A sketchy bar, Baltimore, Friday Afternoon

[soniaroadsqueen]

Dante had found them a great bar. Dingy, grimy, and cheap. In what Ringo was pretty sure was one of the worse parts of town. Despite the time of day, they weren't the only one's there. There were also the sorts of people you might expect to be in a sketchy bar on a Friday afternoon

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[rebelseekspizza]

"Whiskey, tequila, whatever," Dante said, shrugging. "Sometimes I just get something with a shit ton of sugar and booze." He eyed Ringo up. "Shots?"

Oh god.

[soniaroadsqueen]

"Sounds good to me." Ringo didn't have a ton of experience getting totally smashed, but she figured Dante could make up for that.

As tiny as she was, it wouldn't take many for her to really start feeling the effects.

It probably would have been better if she'd gone to someone who didn't solve their emotional problems with alcohol, but she'd gone to Dante. And she was starting to feel like he might be onto something.

[rebelseekspizza]

Dante was what you got when you took a seven-year-old with memory loss, hit him with constant trauma on every level, and then didn't give him an outlet besides violence and excess. His coping mechanisms were deeply entrenched and very, very unhealthy.

But they tended to work if you just kept doing them for long enough, so that worked, right?

He walked up to the bar and ordered two of the most sugary-sweet and strong shots he knew about. He wordlessly shoved one at Ringo.

... Also, had the narrative mentioned he had a healing factor? Because in a couple of shots, that was gonna make kind of a difference here.

[soniaroadsqueen]

Ringo glanced over at Dante. "Supposed to do it all at once, right?"

Her own lack of a healing factor was probably going to come into play pretty quickly, yeah. Especially combined with her lack of practice.

But that was okay. As she understood things, that was the point.