Asking the Worm for Answers Characters: Storm, OTA, especially Jack Russell Setting: One of those Bars that only checks your ID once in bad light, NYC. Content: Some Swearing possibly Summary: Frustrated with a lack of answers, Storm opts for a bottle today. She's not expecting new help, but it at least shuts up the thoughts for the night.
This was not exactly how things were supposed to have gone. 'Ro hadn't managed to learn enough about 'herself' to suit her tastes, and still there was that burning, nagging sensation that there was something deeply wrong with her. She couldn't stand that feeling, that sensation that maybe she was something that wasn't even human. The lack of answers could be truly maddening at points.
And so, one fake idea, two slipped fives and a good, dirty jacket to cover up her physique later, and she was sitting on the far side of a bar, trying not to glare too hard at everyone. There was a glass and a bottle in front of her, paid for and done, and she could sit and brood in peace in one of those dark, forgotten holes people preferred not to bother disturb. Well, at least most people.