The city was a mess, but obviously nothing would stop Trish from getting at what she wanted. And it had tried, oh had it tried. The universe, the Hulk, the weather - could all kiss her ass, because in the end she had managed to get to that little girl's birthday party and perform as Patsy not for her but for her nostalgic idiot dads. At least she'd gotten Jessica's records out of it. And as soon as possible, Trish had been on her way to Jessica's apartment with the folder in her bag along with the wig and the dress, which she had really wanted to set fire to in a barrel somewhere but had held onto because you never knew when she might need this accursed and only superpower again.
The huge, stupid white boots were hidden under baggier pants than Trish was used to wearing and she had passed about ten makeup removal towelettes over her eyes on the drive over (on stop signs and red lights, obviously) despite it not removing a third of the glitter on her face, but she was looking more or less like herself when the elevator stopped at Jessica's floor and she knocked on her door.
The usual response did not phase her; Trish continued knocking, and knocking, until she turned the knob and opened the door.
"It's like, why have locks at all?" She said as way of greeting, staring at Jessia on her desk with a bottle of whiskey off to the side - because of course it was. Trish dropped her bag on the couch, and removed her coat. "Hi Jess."