<span style="color: blue">“Hmmm no pictures on the poster??” </span>Emma never could hold her liquor..even when properly fed.  This lack of all things-food related for ..well over a week, was making the liquor hit her rather hard, and rather quick. Its hard to tell how much is an act, how much is genuine, and how much is the blue mohawked girls general giddyness.<span style="color: blue">“Did they at least describe me as ‘Ridiculously good-looking mo-hawked female, with charmingly tasteful tattoos and a slight  facial deformity?’”  <br/>
</span><br/>Emma laughs,<span style="color: blue">“Thoes ganger boys, they can‘t get enough of me.” </span>She laughs sardonically, making light of the horrible torture she endured.<span style="color: blue"> “ Well. Before this whole business..”</span>she taps the side of her face that’s heavily scarred.  She’ll joke about the disfigurement endlessly, the reality of the situation is vastly different then her casual disdain for the intense scaring. She loathes and is secretly very self conscious about the scars along her throat, wrists and entire right side of her body.... in fact shes' not been voluntarily naked with someone since...well. Thats another story.<span style="color: blue">“What can I say. Some fellas’ like a girl with a little bit o’ fight..but not a lot of scarring.” </span><br/><br/>She shrugs<span style="color: blue">, “S’why I never liked their lot in the first place…fuckin men. Waste of fuckin’ oxygen. All the evils of this world…their fuckin’ fault. They have the power. They abuse it. ”</span>She swallows and looks at the bartender<span style="color: blue">. “Present company excluded. Of course.”</span><br/><br/>Its about that time the second statement  Loretta makes dawns on her.  She..’likes’ her? O god! What did that mean? For a seemingly confident , self reliant woman, Emma was a tad skittish around affection of any sort. In her experience it either ended poorly-forcefully, and unwanted,ar was taken away the moment she became comfortable with it.<span style="color: blue"> “Whaddaya-mean -‘like’- I- didn’t -say -‘like’- who -likes -you ? I don’t like you. Jynx likes you tho,I think yes. I …” </span>She rambles quickly, slurring a bit more as she speaks. She realizes her rambling and clears her throat, trying to regain her composure.<span style="color: blue">  “Yes well..Who doesn’t like me?”</span>She teases, playing off the momentary moment of neurotic crazy, to a joke.<span style="color: blue">“Don’t answer that.”</span>she insist as she realizes ‘Most everyone here’ would be an applicable answer.<br/><br/>She runs her fingertips over the rim of her glass.<span style="color: blue">“So…when did you become all..ghoul-ie?”</span>She asks with zero tact, the same seriousness as one would ask “What would you like to drink?”<br/><br/>Emma slides her kneecap against Lorettas again, this time far more slyly then  before.  She blushes a little deeper as she makes eye contact with the Bartender.<span style="color: blue"> “YES! “</span>she nods.<span style="color: blue"> “Food ..um..A Menu..is fine. And another round of Rat -Piss.” </span><br/><br/>She’d better be drunk if this night was headed in the direction of ‘teehee feelings’ she  feared it was. She downs the second drink, starting to feel verrrry tipsy.<br/>She liked the ghoul. Sure. She wasn’t sure how either. But …the fact remained. Emma didn't ‘like’. Anyone.<br/><br/>Emma eyes the stranger addressing him.<span style="color: blue"> "Hows who treating me? This vile concoction you've stumbled upon - Or the Ghoul? Frankly yr' drink could use a few lessons on how to treat a girl." </span>Emma was drunk enough that she didn't jump down the mans throat for a friendly question. The night was just getting stranger..<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>