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Nitrous was sitting at the bar, and anyone who knew her would have been able to see that something was wrong. She wasn't laughing, for one thing.
Her anger at Doc still simmered, refusing to go away. It had inspired her costume, at least a little. A black widow (albeit a sexy one), because she wouldn't kill Doc, but oh, she wanted to in some moments.
She had come alone. He was, to her knowledge, still at the house. They hadn't spoken in weeks, her giving him a blistering cold shoulder every time he'd tried.
Nitrous sighed and drained her glass, reaching for another one. Being around her family might cheer her up, at least.