charlie west, also known as 'cactus the angry elf' (littledeadly) wrote in immune_ic,
Charlie / Rodeo / Open
Charlie's scowl-- set permanently in place by the time she reached the bar-- only deepened when she caught sight of Rodeo. Being nowhere near drunk enough to be in a dress and heels (tiny heels, but they were still heels to her) meant she was nowhere near drunk enough to be cheerful for any reason. Besides, the perma-glare had kept people from bothering her so far, so it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. She'd hate to ruin the precious brat's opening by having to break someone's nose. (Okay, no she wouldn't, but she would hate to hear about it from Dani if she got blood on the dress.)
Men had it far too fucking easy, she decided. While women like Charlie had to squeeze herself a scrap of fabric that called itself a dress, men got to wear just as many layers as they normally did. So what if a suit had a few more buttons and a tie? She'd take a suit any day over this crap. Not to mention Rodeo looked entirely dashing without trying at all, and she'd had to spend at least fifteen minutes drumming up the courage to even leave the restroom without changing back into her cargo pants. Maybe it was a little petty and resentful, but whatever. She felt awkward, overexposed, and cold; she was entitled to a little grumpiness. Besides, he was the one that was always insisting she was hot when she was grouchy or something.
Her foul mood showed as she snatched the bottle of Stoli off the counter without waiting for a glass, taking a long swig. This was her bottle now. Actually, it might have been hers to begin with-- Charlie had graciously donated at least half of her stash to the damn bar, and odds were this bottle was among the donated vodka. "Are you kidding? Fuck no," she replied finally, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, "I normally wouldn't be caught dead at a pretentious gathering like this, especially not in this thing--" the way she said the word 'thing', it sounded more like she was referencing a piece of roadkill than a dress-- "But a certain pain-in-the-ass man of mine twisted my arm into coming. Kicking his ass is currently on my to-do list, right under 'getting so drunk I forget how fucking mortified I am to be seen in public like this'."