Da Girlz In Da House


devi_icon.gif elisabeth2_icon.gif isa_icon.gif

Scene Title Dar Girlz in Da House
Synopsis Alcohol, dancing, and sisterhood.
Date March 22, 2019

Cat's Cradle

Having Isabelle drag her barhopping is not new. Living in a world where there was peace for a time while Izzy went to college and Liz sang in nightclubs meant that the two women occasionally tied one on. It's the first time since she got back, though, that she's felt comfortable enough to actually go out on something that wasn't an errand or with a specific goal — it's the first time she's really let herself be persuaded to have some fun. Harmony practically shoved her out the door to meet Devi in the hallway. Even loaned her a lined leather jacket to go over the jeans and low-heeled boots that Liz is wearing. By the time they meet up with Izzy in the lobby and head out into the evening toward the nearest watering hole, introductions get made and well… three women who look like them who are also looking for fun shouldn't have any trouble, right?

"No… I still think you should go back and have that tat touched up — the lady of smoke could have a really sharp nimbus of red-orange. I mean, it'd be seriously primal." Elisabeth looks at Devi. "This is the Izzy I told you about — She's got this incredible shadow-smoke lady on her ribcage. It was kinda my fault, but she described it and I couldn't let her not get it." It looks a lot like Ling, now that she thinks about that… but not something she mentions.

"Well I haven't had fucking time trying to figure out this corporate life. The fuck is- goddamn it." Isa is currently on pace with the other women but she's fiddling with her phone issued by Yamagato and its currently flashing and giving off an alert of some kind. Brunette hair swept back and thrown over her shoulder, hazel eyes squint in distress at her phone as she clicks on the screen searching for the notification when she finally spots and presses on the screen with a sigh of relief. The clunk of her black boots hits the pavement and her bare shoulders bunch, her gaze widens at the message on her phone the orange glowing scar on her face catching the white light.

»Alarm: Love You…

An emoji with a waffle next to the alarm and Isa grins widely she looks happy. "I have the cutest fucking husband in the world. Unorthodox," as she looks at the message of Shaw's love. "But fucking cute." Sliding her phone into the back pocket of her dark jeans and she stretches her arms out as they walk the dark blue tank top rising up to show a bit of midriff. The air around Isabelle and the ladies is a comfortable warmth, no need for a jacket. Isa almost never has one. Her stride is confident, she's already had a few swigs of her flask which she is now passing over to Devi. "Here, if we're gonna be best bitches you have to drink my moonshine. Ask Liz. It's all I demand."

A pencilled, pronounced brow perks into an attentive arc at the mention of tattoos. Below it, icy blue lips propel a plume of clove-aromatic smoke into playful spirals. Devi's dark eyes flit to Isa, "corporate life" draws up one sharp corner of supple, azure-painted lips. She strolls with the other femme fatales this way for a while - curious and watchful with smoke rolling occasionally from her lips, the waterfall of chains on front of her halter-top tinkling like impish laughter, and her thigh-high boots offering a bass beat for the ladies' night rhythm that carries them onward.

Having quickly acclimated to the warm atmosphere around Isa, Devi's jacket is carried over one shoulder with a hook of her middle finger in its collar. As the flask is extended, the nub of the clove cigarette is launched across the street, landing in the gutter in a tiny fireworks display of crashing embers. Devi holds up the flask and narrows her gaze in a devilish way at Isa. "Oh, you don't have to twist my arm, buuuut… If we can make it the rest of the night without mentions of corporate, work, industry, or the worst fucking term of them all: memo… Your touch up is on me, Sassy Lass." She grins and tips back a hearty sip of the moonshine. "Phew!" The biker’s husky tones are made even more so with the flammable quality the moonshine adds. "Damn! That shit'll put hair on your chest." Grinning, she hands the flask back with a wink of approval.

Elisabeth snickers softly at the alarm and the look on Isabelle's face. Rolling her blue eyes, enhanced with make-up meant for CLUBBING — thanks, Harm — the blonde comments to Devi, "Now you're in the club." She takes the flask before Izzy gets her hands on it and sniffs. Her eyes water. "Ffffffuuuuuck." A healthy swallow later, her eyes are still watering and her insides are as warm as her outsides. "Please don't tell me you made it in the toilet again. I really don't want to know that," she wheezes as she hands it back to the pyrokinetic.

"Okay, bitches, here's the plan. It has literally been years since I got blitzed. Richard has child-detail tonight and I fully intend to show up very mellow at some point — not sloppy drunk, though, cuz I wanna get laid. Izzy can't bitch about my mood any-fucking-more." Liz grins wickedly at the two of them.

"Oh you're fucking on. When I'm not hungover. No work shit.," Isabelle will take that touch up no problem. The pyro winks and claps her hands as both women indulge in her brand of liquid death. "So supportive my friends- Liz that was like three times when I was a young reckless thing." Waving her friend off with a laugh as the plan is laid out. "Yes you need to get laid, someone please please her. Richard, whoever. Do we need to play wingwomen?" Imagining it already Isa tips her head back and drinks more of the flask before stashing it in her back pocket.

The cigarette that's pulled from behind her ear is placed against her lips at the same time that the ends smoke and the smell of her own cigarette mixing with Devi's recently discarded one. "It's been awhile since both of us went out and got absolutely wrecked. Shahid said he would have some waffles ready whenever I stumble in." The amount of trust the two had for each other in the matters of straying was astonishing for the woman who was prone to bouts of jealousy when it came to her partners.

Devi groans like a tall, sexy, biker-style wildebeest - or, some frustrated equivalent of what she thinks a wildebeest sounds like. “You know, all the talk about going for a ride,” Here the raven-haired woman makes a show of holding onto invisible reigns and swatting at her own shapely rear as she skips a step. She shakes her head and turns the reigns into the reving action of one handlebar. “Mm-mm-mm. Nope-nope-nope. This bitch ain’t ever going to rely solely on a man, or woman,” she winks, “to get her rocks off, thank you! Nothing a motorcycle and some other hardwear can’t solve and all without the drama.” She grins, an impish glimmer in her dark-lined eyes. “But making sure we all get toasty and that every available and wandering gaze reminds us just how damn fine we are - that is most certainly on the agenda.” Her husky laugh is sultry and uniquely comforting - this is her element, this is her jungle, this is her life.

"Look, bitch," Elisabeth retorts good-naturedly, which of the other two women she's addressing totally unclear, "I spent seven years not relying on anyone but me for anything up to and including that, thankyouveryfuckingmuch. I'm going to enjoy every single moment of being home and not alone, and I refuse to feel guilty about it." The blonde is in high spirits this evening. "And getting nice and buzzed, dancing with my tribe, and going home to my guy is, right about now, just about as close to heaven as anything I could ask for." She grins at Devi. "You better dance good, cuz me and Izzy, we take our dancing serious. Sometimes on the table, too!"

Although to be fair, the last time she and Isabelle danced on a table or bar was Izzy's graduation from college. Talk about a Coyote Ugly night!

"Old Lucy's and my girls," a faint smile at the thought of what the place use to be like, "If the world was fair that place would still be standing. Fucking war or whatever probably took it off the map. Isa shrugs her shoulders, lost memories. Spirits, bars and rowdy behavior use to be her life what she was the most use to for as long as she could remember.

A roar of laughter at her blonde friend and she slings an arm over Devi's shoulders.

"Let's fucking do it ladies!"

“Dancing?” Devi shakes her hair out over Isa’s draped arm before turning her head to take in the women at her side. “Like riding a ‘bike’, I’m sure…” There’s a bit of hopefulness to the statement. Honestly, her bar endeavors have a history of other purposes - “Usually I get smashed, conduct business, and hussle pool. Usually in that order.” Dancing? Ain’t nobody got time for that - except the people that aren’t running illegal drug and weapons cartels. Her hand in those pots has been lax since she’s been on the payroll at Raytech. With the thought of the old lifestyle at the forefront of her mind, she falls into an easy rhythm with the couple of succubi ladies, occasionally throwing her hip playfully at Isa.

"Oooh! Pool. I haven't played pool in ages," Elisabeth admits. As they approach the door to the bar, though, the blonde eyes it. "Wow. New York has really gone to the dogs since I was here last. But this? This looks like a lotta fun." The Cat's Cradle has a decent reputation at least… especially considering the owner. She hauls the door open and holds it for her companions.

"Devi, we gotta get you out more. You definitely sound like you're stagnating a bit. I still think reopening a bike restoration place or something like that would work great." She purses her lips, thinking about something. "Wonder if K-Mart's gonna look to get back into business…" she's not sure where his plans will take him, aside from searching for Ling. She's not sure the man would much enjoy being entirely legit, but the black market around here would be hella familiar to him.

Music blasts out of the Cradle, and Liz grins. "Awyeah… let's have some fun, ladies."

"What kind of whacko names their bar Cat's Cradle?" Isabelle grumbles as she follows inside to a smoky and wildly lit place. It's disco night apparently and it shows with various men and women squaring off all around the bar to the loud thumping bass. Izzy's eyebrows raise as the bartender waves at them from his perch, "Hellloooooooo hussies!" Clapping his hands he leans in close to study each of them in kind, "Fresh faces I'd say. The Mistress will be-" the bartender erupts into hysterical crying as he thinks about his former boss. "Gillian is a Saint, keeping this place open for all of us mourners." …what?

A couple of college kids smoke weed in the corner the smell of it filling the place mixing with sweat and liquor, fog mixed with smoke of different kinds seems to be the order tonight and with tears streaming down his face the man slams down four glasses on the bar surface and fills them over with whiskey. "To Our Lady!!!" Violent light plays across the whole room.

"To Our Lady!!!!" The bar joins in a chorus of cheers and everyone takes their drink to the neck, it's been like this for a few weeks now at Cat's Cradle.

“Get me out more?” Devi turns so that she can give Elisabeth an incredulous looks even as she’s moving into the establishment through the chivalrously held door. There’s no come back to follow, though. The Biker Bitch is out of sorts to be labelled on the student side of this trouble-stirring evening. Come on, it’s like riding a bike - she remind herself. “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty head about me - I’ve got my thinking cap on ‘bout that shop and… stuff.” She spins back around in time to catch the ‘warm’, and then tear-sodden, greeting from the party behind the bar.

“Did you bring us to a fucking cult bar,” Devi stage whispers to Elisabeth. “I mean, there’s drinks and ganja, so I’m staying anyway, but I’d still like to know if I need to look out for sacrificial daggers…”

A cult bar? "What the fuck even is that?" Elisabeth hisses in return to Devi. She looks a little out of her depth what with a sobbing bartender. And Gillian owns the place??? Uhmm…. She's stepped into the Twilight Zone. Of course…. Her whole life has been an episode of the Twilight Zone for nearly ten years. Fuck it.

"I'm not getting high! Well… maybe contact high. But the only other option is the Red Hook Tavern, and that place apparently shuts down at 8pm along with the rest of the market. Besides, I fucking don't want to sit in my old stomping grounds and drink. So… Cat's Cradle is the choice. Drink, dance, and make sure I get home at least a little sober, if you please."

Rolling her blue eyes, she rolls up to the bar and shouts to the bartender — though is it really shouting when you enhance your voice to carry deliberately to his ears so he can't miss you? "BARTENDER! Bring the bottle and three glasses! That table's ours!" She points and heads for a high-topped table that she proceeds to claim for however long we're here. No subtlety and no lack of confidence in those moves.

Cracking up at cult bar Isabelle nods along with a Liz at the direction to the bartender who grins after his shot and wipes his eyes, "You've got it honey," coming from around the bar to bring the requested bottle and four glasses to the table. Clearly he's not worried about his duties, the owner would be yelling at him probably. Our Lady. "I see some new faces gimme your names and your social security numbers. KIDDING!!" A crack of laughter as Sassy pours those drinks and takes a drink out of his glass, "You can call me—" the man erupts into tears, "Sassy I'm sorry I'm not able to be my party self completely. The former owner gave me that nickname and it's just.. she was precious ya know? Such a spirit of light. Shining so bright like a fucking diamond." Sassy wails into his drink.

Isabelle rears back and drinks her liquor while eyeing the flamboyant man, someone must have died or ran off with a lover is her guess.

The crowd in the place is in various stages of partying and a very inebriated woman climbs to the stage slurring her words as she goes, "She was such a nice lady. She beat my boyfriend up with a rubber chicken when he cheated on me with Sassy over there," pointing at the bartender who raises his glass, "Fuck that motherfucker!!!" But isn't he the— what? "And so!! I'm gonna sing one of her favorite songs ever," the pulsating beat of a bad karaoke track starts blaring over the house speakers and the blonde throws her arms out on either side of herself.

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag

Drifting in the wind, wanting to start again

The crowd erupts into sobs and cheers and the slamming of glasses and smoking of joints reaches a fever pitch and Sassy seems about to join in when Isabelle leans forward with raised eyebrows, "Who was the last owner here? She must have been a wild bat."

Sassy places a hand on his chest as if he's offended, "Where are you from?!? You don't know the Owner of this fine establishment. You don't know EVE MAS?!"

Uh oh.

Devi shrugs at Liz's question regarding 'cult bars'. "They gotta get their koolaid somewhere," she replies cooly. As the blonde moves off to the table, Devi lingers before following - not for lack of confidence, mind you, but her attention has been diverted. Dark eyes linger a little too long on the gossamer lines of smoke, flit quickly from one half-in-the-bag patron to the next. After moment the raven-haired rubs her nose roughly with the back of a tattooed hand and turns off to follow her new drinking buddies to the table.

The shot is half raised to her vibrantly painted lips when the bartender starts blubbering again. The look of confusion on Devi's face transforms into one of mild illness as another intoxicated party starts belting out with the confidence only alcohol can provide. "Fuck me. This place is crawling with the feels…" The sour expression is washed away with a lurching lift of the shot glass. Devi's hand is already reaching before her head and glass are on the descent. She pours another round for the th-… four of them and fixes the group with a quick look. "Who da fuck is Eve-Mass?" One word, like Christmas, but with Eve.

Oh Jesus fucking Christ. Elisabeth suddenly understands. And god, it hurts. For a split second, the image of Eve Mas losing her life in front of Elisabeth's eyes is all she can see. Sassy and his mourning… that makes sense to her now. Because Eve has always garnered a certain frenetic loyalty among those she takes in and makes her own. In every world. No matter that the seer might be batshit crazy, she is still a friend. The losses of the people who came for her and hers… the losses of her own people… they're still fresh and very raw.

Swallowing two shots and slamming the glass to the table, she glances a warning look at Isabelle. It's the only warning her 'sister' will get — she's seen Liz do this shit before, but it's rare. In the world where Elisabeth was a nightclub singer, she had to walk a fine line between making a good living and keeping a low profile. Here? It's not an issue. And to calm the shit in this bar down, with all the weed in the air? That's a no brainer.

One boost onto the counter from an empty barstool and Elisabeth is sitting on the bar, her voice is carrying over the chaos … and Sassy's wailing. "Shut it, fuckers! Because Eve was one of my best friends years ago… and she's one of the only reasons I got home this year." Her voice — and the almost teacher-like scolding (despite calling them all fuckers) — shuts 'em down.

Leaning her hands on the edge of the bar, the audiokinetic starts humming under her breath, the chords of the song that she's looking for coming as easily as breathing and her power building them behind her. The up side to Fleetwood Mac is that they use limited numbers of chords. She can't pull the percussion, but the melody line is recognizable as it swells around her. And her voice twines among the notes, laced with subsonics to encourage the crazies to settle the fuck down.

~Now here you go again… You say you want your freedom.
Well, who am I to keep you down?
It's only right that you should play the way you feel it …
But listen carefully to the sound … of your loneliness…~

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

Isabelle's hairline begins to smoke as flames flick at the woman's temples but breathing and another shot of the whiskey after snatching the bottle from Sassy's fingers calms her and she smiles grimly. "Dead?" Her night might have just been made. Her life even. Swallowing that bit of joy that she never would have to run into the crazy ass seer again, she pats Sassy's back. "That's a shame! I'm sorry for your loss!" It's not that convincing.

Before Sassy can unveil a plethora of creative ways to drag someone to hell verbally, Liz slams her glass on the table and begins her performance, tribute to her fallen friend and the crowd needless to say. Fucking loves it. Hoots and hollers are all over the place. Sassy yells and drinks from the bottle of liquor itself rushing away from Isabelle and Devi to cling onto a young lady nearby dressed in shawls of different vibrate shades and wearing long dangling gold earrings. "Oh look, I cannot." Crying on the woman's shoulder who pats his shoulder with a hand the color of chestnut wood. "She was the best trickster I knew. The silliest kooky bird. The loveliest deadly loud flower." The woman's voice is whispery but strong in pitch.

The crowd joins in, swaying to Liz's voice and the subsonics being manipulated in the room. Isabelle can't help but smile and join in, slinging an arm around Devi's arm. "She's got it!" Grinning from ear to ear.

“She fucking sings, too? Is there anything she can’t do?” Devi looks incredulously towards Isabelle hanging on her arm. No, really, she wants to know. After a moment though, whe rolls her shoulders back, eyes closed and head shaking. The raven-haired woman knows a good thing when she feels it, though - Liz’s voice seeps into her the same way her body takes to drugs and alcohol. Like a fish to fucking water. Devi opens her eyes with a lazy, cheshire grin and give an amicable chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. She got it….”

There’s a side-eyed glance shot Isabelle’s way, dark eyes half lidded and shadowed by thick, even darker lashes. “But, one day you’re going to have to tell me what one Eve did to ruffle your feathers so badly, Firebird.” Her husky chuckle is playful … until she turns her gaze back on the table. She stares at the sticky surface expectantly before her gaze flits up to where Sassy and squad cling around Liz. Devi’s hands come up in the universal symbol for ‘what the fuck’, and elborates loudly. “Bitch ran off with our booze.”

Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
Say women, they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean, you'll know, you'll know…

The subsonics are gentle and what with the weed involved, calm is easily accomplished — they're all inclined toward mellow. She tapers it off and right out of the musical notes as soon as the crowd seems occupied. Elisabeth has a number of them singing now. Fleetwood Mac might be old, but Eve was a hardcore Stevie Nicks fan so it's in her music collection, and Liz has the ability and the voice to pull it off well.

She downs a couple of shots in between stanzas too. Sliding off the bar once things are all about the music, she keeps singing but whips a bottle from behind the bar and brings it back to their table. A wink and a grin at her companions, and the bottle is theirs. They better fucking share with her!

"She was a crazy bitch and she's bothered me everywhere I go. I mean you think there's no way Eve could be here and wham she's right in front of your face waving a joint or a gun around shouting off about tides shifting and the darkness of the moon taking over or some shit. Precogs." its lucky for Isabelle that Sassy isn't near her anymore.

The crowd sways and continue to sing along with Liz. Sassy guzzles the bottle he's holding and the pyro taps her foot along, "But to answer your question. Liz can do a lot." They all had to learn, adapt on their travels. Something Isa finds herself wanting to talk about. It was strange, they had to lie so much over the years to protect themselves but she just wanted to be her. She didn't want to pretend not anymore.

Dark, painted and lined eyes watch Isa as she spills her hatred for the deceased. “Waving joints and guns…” If the biker is trying not to sound impressed, she's failed. “But, then being nosey is a deal breaker - kills the high.” Devi offers Isa a smile that is both sly and supportive in a way that is all her own. What's different this time, is that neither her expression or her gaze and attention wane.

Somewhere near the end of that exchange between Devi and Isa is where the biker bitch normally inserts some naughty turn of phrase or instigates some other shenanigans good for getting right off those heavy hitting topics. As Isa struggles with the need to be free and fully herself, though, Devi simply watches. Smiling. She's smiling still as she tips the returned bottle up and fills all present glasses with a sloppy overflow of booze. She waits in a way that suggests even after they have their drunk fest night and danced in the belated Eve Mas's bar, she'll be there waiting…

Now that the crowd is singing along — and a great many of them seem to know the words — Elisabeth finishes the song with them, holds a glass up in tribute and downs the contents. Then she deliberately turns her back on the crowd and lets them get back to music that comes from whatever is powering the jukebox this evening.

Her blue eyes flicker between Isabelle and Devi as she puts her glass back on the table in silent demand for a refill, and then she shrugs. "Sorry, Iz… I should have mentioned, I guess. She died when the fucking thing came blasting out the fucking portal with us. It obliterated her." It's perhaps a good sign that she's well on her way to that goal of being drunk that she doesn't censor what she says about how she got home. Of course, Devi can't know that an automatic one-way sound bubble is in place around their table either — they can hear everything just fine, but no one can hear them. Liz's grief over what happened to Eve is enough to have the skin-buzzing hum happening… Isabelle's been around the block with that a couple of times, so probably best to just change that subject or the buzzing gets annoying.

And her next words might clue Isabelle in that Liz has had far more alcohol in a very short amount of time than was intended. And she can't hold it so well these days as she used to!

"Did you actually ask what I can't do?" Liz turns her eyes onto Devi for that one, amused as fuck. "I mean…. I'm good," she boasts just a little, "But I'm not all that. Fuck. My mom and my Nana taught me to cook. I sang in nightclubs for five years and trained my power to amplify and enhance that. Made good money. I was NYPD for…. I don't fucking know. 8 or 9 years? I think?" Her brow furrows a moment as she obviously is trying to remember — it's a little hard. "I'd have to look up when I actually graduated college and started NYPD — fucking Danko blew out my brains one time and I lost about 10 years. Uhm… so I remember cop shit from 2001 to …. 2010, I guess. And then I was a terrorist — you should read about it. I hear I'm in a book or some shit. And then I was heading up Frontline, which was basically Evo SWAT here. And then I tanked my life to become a full-on Resistance fighter against the government. Somewhere in there, I helped out a few times saving the world, which sounds totally stupid when you say it out loud. The last time I tried that, I got sucked out of the world for 7 years. And me and Izzy met up, and … well, fucked a few people up in every goddamn fucked up timeline we had to throw down in on the way home."

Disbelieve me. I dare ya.

Blink. Drink. Fill. “Huh.” Devi smiles in her ambiguous, cheshire way, licking a drop of liquor from the corner of her colorful lips. “That’s cool…” And it is, really, though there’s a hanging note that leaves a silent, big ol’‘buuuuut’ dangling out there in Elizabeth's direct. Devi props an elbow on the table and raises her glass towards the blonde. “My point’s been made - I didn’t hear a damn thing ‘bout what you can’t friggin do in there, Super Bitch.” She grins. Blink. Drink. Fill. Repeat.

Isabelle's eyes narrow was Liz's lips get to moving, "What thing," then her eyebrows raise and then grips the edges of the table, "Are you talking about that BS you, Magnes and the Ruizes touched back in my home." The pyrokinetic didn't have many thoughts on beings from other dimensions, that was because she had never met one before. Devi is given a look as she notices the bubble of silence around them and she reaches out and snatches that bottle from Sassy who pouts before nodding her head, his words don't echo through to the trio but they can notice the words: You look like you need it. Coming from the bartender.

Flipping the bird as she knocks back more of the liquor. "Ah the truth rings out." More liquor and Izzy is slamming her hot palms on both women's backs, "Looks like we share a secret now." A glint in her eyes though she doesn't need to tell Devi about not saying anything to anyone, she clearly gets the point.

"Hopping through timelines is a bitch but your world seems alright," a teasing look at Liz. It's a whole lot better than her original timeline that's for sure. Isa looks contemplative as if there's a question or request she wants to make and it's right on the tip of her tongue. "What do you think about that? Time traveling/Dimension hopping? I'm sorry to say I never ran into one of your alters." Leveling Devi with a stare. "Cool is.." a light drum of her fingers on the table, "Not the only word I would use."

"Ffffft. Yeah. The thing between," Elisabeth replies. And then she blanches and looks alarmed — it's just now hit her what she's done as Izzy says that about the secret. "Fuck. I don't want to go to new Gitmo," she tells Devi, in that very serious way that those who are having a serious buzz on are wont to have. "Fuuuuuck."

Pushing the glass away — she's clearly had enough — Liz leans on her elbows on the table. "I am losing my goddamn mind," she says quietly. "This isn't my home. Except it is, and I think I sort of maybe fucking proposed to your brother the other night. And now people are offering me a job. And Felix is seriously fucked up, almost as bad as we are. People I love are dead. This is… not what I thought I would come home to. I mean, it's not perfect and I didn't expect it to be. But maybe it's been too long and it'll never be home again. And I'm just…. Waiting for the other fucking shoe to drop. For fucking Hiro to show up and tell us it's time to go."

Isa chokes and spits out her drink and slams her own hand on the table with eyes wide. "So that's why you wanna go back so bad later to fuck!" Isabelle leans over to hug Liz, she's forgotten everything else. Not Devi though, the biker bitch gets herself a wide grin.

“Cool.” That earns Isabelle a grin and a wink. “Another world, baby,” Devi says, all charm and laughter. The truth of the matter is, Devi’s alters probably never made it past twenty years living. Thankfully, the biker is too deep in the drink to piece this fancy bit of knowledge together. Now the women are talking in secrets and circles. The biker knew sticking with Redbird would get her in deep, but watching these two strong women spin stories deep enough to leave her dizzy is quickly sobering and washes away her smile - at least for a moment. In that long, torturous, lingering time of seriousness, she watches Elisabeth. Her gaze flits to the bottle that has been floating, nearly emptied, around the table, but for once she does reach for it.


Her hand comes down on the table sharply. “Fuck ‘em!” Devi leans back, flexing her fingers to spark fresh little ripples across her stinging, table-laden palm. “Gitmo. Hiro. Boogeyman-o. Whatever. The world is what you make it. Ain’t no one going to make it your home but you. And ain’t no one going to take you from it without going through us.” There’s something fiery in those slurred words - something feral and protective that makes it clear just how the raven haired woman had, once upon a time, amassed a group of misfits under her wing in the guise of a motorcycle family.

She takes a deep, steadying breath to linger in this moment of seriousness for just about as long as her conscious mind can bear, fixing each of the other women with a look and a nod. Only then does she snatch the bottle, pour them all a shot, and hold it up. “To the Best Bitches of any goddamn multiverse-timeline-bullshit there is!” She waits for the others to raise their glasses before imbibing this latest shot, then whoops loudly. “Let’s fucking dance!”

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