Characters: Tabitha Smith; OTA Setting: New York Club Content: Nothing too horrible Summary: Tabitha drinks and mourns her pathetic, friendless existence. Sounds like fun, right?
Contrary to popular belief, the blond had yet to destroy anything Wicked had left behind on Genosha. She refused to step foot in the other woman's apartment, allowing what was left of the Brotherhood to accomplish the ransacking or whatever was set to occur. Instead, the mutant found herself in one of her favorite night clubs, lounging on a bar stool, and sipping the heaviest drink her stomach would allow without much protest. It was bitter, vodka filled, and burned going down, but right now, Tabitha needed something to keep her grounded and stable. Magnus wouldn't keep her on the team if her head was not on semi-straight when he called upon her again.
Tipping back the glass, she slid it toward the bartender again, waving her hand, and watching with bleary eyes as he reluctantly refilled it once more. Because she was on her third, she could understand the hesitation, but young woman didn't care. For the moment, she needed to forget she had lost her family, that she had been stabbed in the back, and that everything she believed was being questioned. The Brotherhood was her family, Magnus was the father she never had, but Wicked had taken that all away. Boom Boom was angry for failing the mission, angry at the dark haired woman for her betrayal, and the role she no doubt played in Pietro's capture. She downed her fresh glass and pushed it toward the man behind the counter again, waving him to refill it once more. Her head was spinning, but at least, her heart and feelings were numb.