On Sundays in this particular bar Cindy knew of (and frequented), it was Happy Hour all day. Yes, all twenty-four hours, and what better way to celebrate the Day the Lord Hath Made then to get blitzed? Or to explain - she’d give it her best effort anyway, but after a couple years here she did know her stuff - the wonders of the OC? That was what she was going to attempt to do, on an evening where she didn’t have much else going on and the latest alien invasion debacle had become gossip murmurings, but nothing really proved. Sure, people noticed, but not everyone did - and who was going to believe that Joe down the street encountered scaly creatures from another planet?

Reapers. She really fucking hated them, and was glad they were gone. Victory goes to the Earthlings, huzzah.

Scrawled on the blackboard nearby were the specials, the floor was scattered with peanut shells, behind the bar were dozens of bottles of whiskey available and beers both watery and fancy. Rock on the jukebox, usually only turned down if there was a game on (in that case, turn up the music and prepare to die) - Cindy stuck with a delicious w00tstout before it was tapped out, and that was honestly the dorkiest name for a beer but it was good. Inky black with flavor ‘splosions of caramel and pecans, a little, and she just couldn’t resist. It honestly tasted like the contents of a candy store had been entirely soaked in bourbon.

“Alright,” she broke another peanut in half, to consume the innards. “Where should I start?” Likely Michonne had questions. Many of them.

Considering she’d moved and started to unpack just before an apparent invasion began, Michonne was already questioning the six month lease, she wouldn’t lie. Weighing up the pros and cons of breaking the lease had her in too much debt to properly start somewhere else, so she just needed to suck it up and accept that this was where she lived now.

She counted it in the pro column that there were at least people she knew who had the lay of the land, like Cindy, and knowing where some very nice bars were with all day Happy Hours. “You know, I know I should be asking about this invasion shit, and the dreams people are talking about, and how much everyone smokes in this area.” Because yes, she knew that it wasn’t in the water, that was just ridiculous. There wouldn’t just be a county affected by that, and either way, that would take a lot of LSD.

“But I’m honestly more curious about this marriage I hear you have, which really speaks to my priorities.” Michonne would roll with the weird. She’d get more in the way of hoarding weapons, and she’d roll with the weird. Weddings were something to be curious about.

Of all things, the wedding was what drew the most interest? Well, alright, Cindy had to hand it to Michonne. She was good at surprises, in her own low-key way. “The invasion shit was technically tied to the dreams, which aren’t even explainable - I mean, the mechanics of them aren’t. I guess if you wanted to get really in-depth about alternate universes, maybe the answers lie there, but...” Cindy shrugged. “It’s not my wheelhouse.”

So she could, at best, offer up her best guess based on experience and information other people compiled - working at the Agency helped too, but granted, it wasn’t their job to look for answers. Just contain the weird shit when it did happen.

“But as for the wedding? Garrus and I met through the network, we both began to dream, he dreamed of being an alien - a whole other species. He’s now full out turian, and it was a gradual change. Before that though, we got married - in space. He and his friend have a ship meant for travelling amongst the stars.”

See, she knew that’d be more interesting. Michonne had to take a sip from her own beer, eyebrow raised because Cindy really had to hear herself when she mentioned aliens and spaceships, really. “Really trying to not think about the dream and reality nonsense,” if Michonne could stay out of it, she would. For the most part she was hoping it was just the heat driving everyone a little mad, on the other she was oddly curious. “If it happens, it happens.”

Michonne had rolled with a lot of stuff, in her own way of dealing with it, it meant not dealing with it. She was getting good at that.

“So, the aliens that just invaded? Not the same as your husband?” The topic naturally called for another drink, just so that Michonne could process it all. “Do people regularly dream of being aliens and then turn into them?” Because if that was the case, she was breaking her lease and moving, she’d live in hostels if she had to.

“Not regularly. But I think no matter what a person happens to dream of, what version of themselves they see, they begin to become that person in time whether it’s in terms of personality or physical traits,” Cindy replied - oh yes, more drinks were warranted. She would take the hour up on its ‘happy’ portion right now, sticking with the same choice in beer - usually, this one ran out quickly so she was going to do her part to help drink it all. Maybe she’d switch to something less decadent in a minute, but it was the pecans that brought her back to her southern heritage.

Another peanut was cracked open, and she popped the nuts into her mouth before dusting off her hands. Didn’t want to leave residue on the slightly chilled mug - she had a preference about frosted mugs, meaning, none of that. It kind of killed the flavor a little for her. “The aliens that invaded were definitely not my husband’s kind - these were the kind he fought in his dreams, I guess he’s kind of like intergalactic Batman, and they ended up saving the day. But they’re nasty shit, as you saw. Not quite human, not quite robotic either - kind of a combination of both. Humans experimented on.”

It wasn’t pretty, either way. Those were the Reapers for you, and she was glad they were gone - one invasion in her lifetime was more than enough.

Honestly, Michonne was seconds away from just draining her bottle and demanding that they keep coming. She indulged here and there, bars were a commodity for her most of the time, because she tended to use them for her work, but this was no such thing.

“Okay so what, people come here, dream of some alternate life they led, that could involve aliens or space or whatever else, and then they just become that?” It really was something to get her head around, and Michonne wasn’t entirely sure how to slot that into her usually very well organised mindset.

She wasn’t one for fanciful ideas, she didn’t really see the point in those anymore. She was to the point, she was direct, it was basic. The concept of an alternate reality wasn’t out of the question, sure, but Michonne left those things to other people, because she didn’t have time for them. “And everyone is just okay with this? With occasional invasions or whatever else might come spewing out of someone’s dreams?”

Okay was something of a relative term - Cindy didn’t want to give off the impression they were all flippant about this sort of thing because, oh hey, she remembered waking up bruised, bloody, beaten, the life draining out of her. These dreams could be shitty, and maybe they brought good things sometimes - but in other occasions? Not so much. It cut both ways.

“People do tend to become what they dream of - it’s like a natural transition,” she explained (or tried to). “Like sort of coming into your own, slipping into a new skin? Sometimes literally. The more you see this other you, the more you realize - well, it is you.”

It was honestly difficult to put into words just out of the blue. Someone had to experience it for themselves before they’d really understand, she got that. “We also tend to get used to the situations where we have to kind of band together and fight for where we’ve weirdly chosen to build a life, but there are some things that - no, honestly, I personally am not ever okay with,” she admitted. “I died once. I mean that literally.”

Transitioning into someone else, regardless of how natural it felt gave Michonne pause. She wasn’t entirely convinced about all this stuff, but it was either the most elaborate prank, or true. Because from what Michonne remembered, Cindy wasn’t the ‘make shit up as you go along’ type; at least not this stuff.

Banding together wasn’t too surprising, if all this weird shit happened to everyone (literally) then it would make sense that they’d all form some kind of close community, even over a large area, and face things together. Probably helped them all feel like they were at least doing something she assumed. She had to turn to stare at Cindy when she admitted to dying.

“You died?” And yet… “You died because of this shit and you’re still here?” Okay, that she could not put together. But Michonne had sort of gotten good at avoiding things that hurt, at least in less physical ways. “Jesus, this is insane, you realise that? People staying here through all this?” Because Michonne didn’t quite understand the concept of staying for the people so much anymore.

“I dreamed of dying and it transferred over,” she said, finishing off her beer and offering up the glass to the bartender for a refill. He also brought by a fresh basket of peanuts too, since the unorthodox fairytale princess was really plowing through them. “I’m dead there but not here - the thing about this place is we always find a way to carry on. It may be crazy, but...”

Cindy shrugged, scooting the refilled glass toward her for a sip - a long pull, actually, cold and refreshing and just what she needed to be able to talk about that trauma. Seeing Garrus fall apart in those last final moments had been a twist to the heart as well. “Anything could happen, at any time, no matter where you are. At least here, I know we’ve got the backup in case anything does happen - I mean, a resurrection spell saved my life. It’s a life I built here and want to keep living even if I could probably be dubbed insane for staying.”

Maybe it didn’t make sense. But she wouldn’t run away from here, even if it was sometimes tempting - this was home, in a way she didn’t feel with anywhere else.

It gave Michonne yet more pause. She figured people could probably get used to things like the feelings and personalities of a dream version bleeding over. People becoming some other version of themselves that felt real, she could align that okay in her head, even if it seemed very out there. But instances passing over, injuries, consequences of those dreams having an affect on life, and potentially death in this world?

And she was already considering it two worlds, not just dreams and reality.

Magic and aliens, resurrections and dreaming. It was all so weird, but they all seemed so comfortable and fine with it all. Like this was their new normal. “Well, at least there’s such a thing as resurrection.” Her mind automatically went to what if, but Michonne really needed to not go there. Things were tense enough with Cindy reliving a death and Michonne shut down her thoughts before they could ever go there.

“So… Since you’ve made this place your home, and you’re fighting for it, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve fought?” It felt like a change in direction was needed, for both of them, before they ended up sad drunks at the bar.

There were people who could help, was the thing - and Cindy was glad for that. They really did kind of band together in times of crisis, because hell, what a bunch of stubborn fucks they all were. No one wanted their lives to be ruined, not when they worked so hard to overcome personal demons and literal demons.

She hoped that Michonne found her place here. Even amongst all the absolute crazy. Cindy would be on her side too - no one ever dreamed of actual pleasant things.

“The weirdest thing I’ve fought,” she hummed, tracing the rim of her beer glass. “Gremlins, I think. You know...from that 80s movie? They showed up around Christmas one year and me and this other guy basically went on a little extermination operation in a movie theater. They were everywhere.”

It made her chuckle to remember - no, they hadn’t been particularly difficult to kill. But they multiplied easily and so the infestation had spread. Luckily it didn’t last too long.

“Gremlins?” Okay, that got a smile, because yeah, Michonne remembered that movie, and as much as it was in the sort of ‘horror’ vein it was definitely a degree of comedy in there too. “I’m just picturing you with a machine gun or flamethrower, just going to town on furbies.” It was a fun image at least.

And maybe…. Maybe that helped, some light-hearted strangeness among the difficult stuff. Maybe that was why so many people stayed. Between weddings and children and dying and invasions, there had to be something that didn’t make this place a total wasteland. “It’s good, to know that you’re happy, that even here, it’s possible.” Maybe Michonne could find something like that. Something that made her stop running.

“It’s definitely possible,” Cindy grinned. “I met the love of my life, some really great friends, and I mean - what other place literally looks like a beautiful winter wonderland every year even when it shouldn’t? Here on the beach?” It was that magic of Orange County - both good and bad, just like in everything else in life.

No, she wouldn’t have traded it for anything, and she wouldn’t run away either. Whatever spell this place weaved, it became a part of you - wired into your framework, down to your bones and your very being. Michonne would see that soon enough.

“Plus, I know the best places to drink,” she winked, swiveling on her stool a little, folding her arms on the bar. “So you’ve gotta keep me around. How about another one? We can always Uber back if need be.”

Love of my life, God, that was just sick inducing sweetness right there and Michonne couldn’t do anything but smile dopily at Cindy, if that’s what was going to happen she’d need to learn how to school her features even against that nauseating cuteness right there. “You’re ridiculous.” It was said fondly though, even if Michonne would be hoping for no snow ever. She’d seen enough snow thanks.

“Well, if that’s what you bring to the table, I guess you’ll just need to be speed dial one.” Especially if this shit started for her, she’d probably prepare to punch things but depending on the bullshit that she was forced to deal with. “If I dream about aliens, you are picking up the bar tab.” And that would be a hefty sum. “Sure, since we’re past the nonsense Debbie downer talk, I’m far more inclined to get happy drunk.” And it was Happy Hour after all, that was the point.

“Well, hell. I’m flattered to be on your speed dial,” Cindy drawled, just a smidge of that peaches-and-cream accent making an appearance. Most of the time it was buried, something she’d trained herself to phase out of her speech patterns because she’d wanted to denounce her ties to the south completely - but in times of great leisure, when she was particularly relaxed, sometimes it slipped through.

Besides, she wasn’t as determined to put distance between herself and her family now. Atlanta was a place she could visit without feeling dread. “Good, then let’s have another and I’ll tell you aaaall the funny weird stories you can handle.”

Gremlins? That wasn’t even the half of it. Just wait ‘til she got to the part about her husband turning into a woman. It’d be awhile, but that’s okay. They had all the time in the world.