"GOOTEN TAAAG!", a high pitched bretonian voice echoes as Lizzie steps into the bar, the lady still dressed like a preppy aristocrat as her usual, not really sinking into her new life so well. "Ahah! There it is! A place for intellectual meetings and discussions about the future of the poor people of Rheinland, only for our elite minds, stimulated by the wonderful treasure that is Rheinbeer, jjja?"
Ignoring all of the previous scene, the naive lady vaguely hums what seems to be an approximation of a chant she may have heard at University once during a short lived protest. Really, her presence is nearly insulting so carefree she is, and so terrible her impression of a Rheinlander accent is. It doesn't stop her from ordering a round of drinks on her tab for everyone present, though. Raising her glass, which to her dissapointment is not Oktoberfest-sized, she presents herself to everyone present. "Hallo! I am Lizzie McLowell, another proud member of our movement!"
This has to be a mistake, right? Who in their right mind would've allowed her in?
