<div class="floatleft">(http://i57.tinypic.com/2djeb2f.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Abbigail Armstrong<br/><strong>Alias:</strong>Nightbrite, Hero<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Main Floor<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Triplicate<br/><br/>Abby rolled her eyes playfully at Trip, "Pity us who are only one person at a time. It's rough for us plebeians," she quipped teasingly, lips quirking into a small grin. "I just got here, myself," she responded, "I need to unwind after a long night on patrol." It was true enough. While nothing eventful had happened that night (at least to her), it had been a long week of fighting, flying, and leaping from roof to roof. The constant activity could take a toll on even the mightiest of heroes. It was why she was grateful for the club. She was sure most of the others felt the same - even the villains. One of the reasons why nobody ever dug too deeply into this place's ownership, she assumed. Abby had been coming here for a month and had yet to see anything more suspicious than the buffalo wings.<br/><br/>She watched another join them at the bar. Warden, that was his name. Handsome. She smiled at him and nodded, then looked back at Trip to resume their conversation. "So what're your plans for the night? Just a drink or two? Going to get something to eat? A massage, maybe?"