Sitting here until life stopped sucking - or at least until closing time and being pried off the stool and pitched out into the street, but that was hours and hours away - sounded pretty damn good to her. She was slightly more concerned that the bartender would eventually cut her off, leaving her brooding down into an empty glass, but now that Queen was here, she was drinking with someone, and that meant more drinks. More drinks meant the world was wobbling because of alcohol, not a sense of balance that had been disturbed by the removal of one eye.
Damnit. He was refusing to fight with her, mellowly turning aside her anger in a way that reminded her more of his son Conner, when he'd still been with SHIELD on a regular basis. She didn't want to be placated. She wanted to butt her head against something, feel something that reminded her what it was like to live. But even that had been denied to her. Wasn't that just her fuckin' life. "Because you know so very much about being 'fine'," she snapped. "I'm never going to be fine again. So just go away and leave me alone, like everyone else," she muttered, the temper fizzling out with the truth of the matter.