⚘ ㅤbar。

@❀ akay x。 She's straight gone, by then, having something akin to the time of her life. The irritation staining the features of those around her loses itself in the kaleidoscopic bliss fogging her vision, and for a moment Andy is all but certain she'll meet her blackout here. But then a firm grip sustains itself on her shoulder and she freezes taut--- her body going ramrod straight as she all but tilts her head to spare the newcomer a suddenly seething glare.

"You wanna try that again, ?"

Her accent slips her at this rate, but she pays no mind to anything beyond the clammy palm settled upon her bare shoulder. Carefully, she places down her drink (the bartender took his damn time finally scoring her a refill) and lifts her hand to ensnare his wrist in her nimble digits. In the low lighting, she can't quite make out his face, but she finds she doesn't need to as she yanks away his hold and twists his wrist back against the fold of its joint.

@❀ akay x。 [ i hope this pov/style is okay with you ]

She's five drinks in--- the room is tilting on the axis in her barstool, the bartender's speaking in pitches she can't understand anymore, and she's certain she's hearing colors in her head... But she wouldn't trade the feeling for anything in the world. Not when she's dazzling with that loopy sort of grin, not when she's swaying to the beat of music that isn't even playing. She adores the feeling of stepping out of control, the haze of a drunken stupor she can't get with anything lightweight or fruity.

" 'Nother round over here, big boy! I'm callin' the shots tonight!"

And that she did... Body shot after body shot just an hour ago, all on women whose faces she'd forgotten two minutes later. Some would call it a coping mechanism on her end. She calls it freedom. And it's like that that she doesn't overhear the footsteps gaining in behind her as familiarity in the form of mile-long legs and tatted flesh approaches.

b o o m