"Mawwage is what bwings us together, today" Wanda quoted to herself, a little slurred, an imitation of the clergyman from The Princess Bride, when she heard Wicked's shout to Rogue. She tapped the bar top and the bartender poured her another shot of tequila. She poured poured salt on the spot between her thumb and forefinger, licked it off, then downed her drink. Marriage was what brought them together tonight, or rather, Wicked's impending one. Wicked was also what brought Wanda here, actually here, with an argument that seemed convincing at the time but, once Wanda was out in the world, didn't quite stand up to the danger she felt. It was true, the media frenzy was long over; a former terrorist turned hero killing pedestrians and evading the law was quickly old news. There was always something else to cover, especially in New York.
If she were still a media focus, a show of force from S.H.I.E.L.D. might be necessary but not now, and not all the way down here. There weren't active patrols scouring the country, ready to swoop in on helicopters with guns drawn. Wanda wasn't naive enough to think she completely safe, someone could easily report her, but Wicked even had an answer for that. A disguise, which actually amounted to bottle blonde dye and big sunglasses outdoors. It seemed to be working in the bars of New Orleans- any strangers paying attention to her were too drunk to identify her. The danger was mostly in her head, Wicked's plan was apparently flawless.
Persuasive as her future sister-in-law was, no amount of flawless plans or arguments would convince Wanda to be physically present for the actual wedding. Wanda was a damned fool if she showed to a semi-public function in New York City, attended by the people closest to her, and didn't expect to get caught. That she would have to attend her brother's wedding in spirit form made her bitter. That she was here celebrating those nuptials in the flesh made her paranoid. The tequila helped with both.
One more shot down and then she stood (oh, the room was spinning just a little), and went to put her arms around Wicked from behind and rest her head on her shoulder. That was nice, she was very soft and more solid than the floor. Wanda anchored herself against Wicked and then asked the bartender for water. The night was young.