<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/D6uzCbh.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Cloud 0/ Abigail Boylen<br/><strong>Time/Date:</strong>Late Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Luke's Bar, Clinton/Hells Kitchen<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Patsy Walker et al<strong>Mentioned:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Warning:</strong>N/A<br/><hr/><br/>Abigail turned her head to the redhead. She smelled nice. And dressed nice. And considering this was a bar in Harlem that meant she was very classy and confident as opposed to just rich. The fact she invited her to their little party was rather nice as well. Abigail certainly didn't have any plans besides getting drunk on her 21st and she wasn't getting any particular rape vibes from anyone here, so that was a definite plus as she canvassed her mind for any excuses of why not to join their little party, beyond general social awkardness and whatnot. "Sure I can hang," she then said, sipping her Rum Punch. "Just let me finish my drink. It's too expensive to spill," she then said, only partially true of course. Truth was she just needed to will herself up to actually investing into being with a group of people in a social setting without letting off where and what she had been doing for the past couple years. The old man behind the bar seemed to be smiling, or happily grimacing and Abigail tried to play it off. "Think she'll cover my tab?" Abigail then asked, nodding to the redhead as she made her way to the bathroom.<br/><br/>"Patsy ehhhh." He shrugged. "Might pay for a glass from the wines we have in stock," he replied as Abigail shrugged again, contemplating the bars wine stock when, in the streets just beyond the bar she could hear the shrieking and howling of something clearly unnatural cutting through the air followed by the loud, heavy clanging of metal on asphalt. That seemed unusual, even for New York City and needless to say, she quickly slid off of the stool and twirled around to look outside. Of course, showing terrible things happened in groups of threes, along with the howls and clanging of manhole covers flying through the air, the lights suddenly went out in the bar.<br/><br/>Her mind went to her gun, but she kept that stashed in her shoulder holster. Private gun ownership was hard to come by in the limits of New York City and she sure as hell didn't have the relevant permits. Thankfully the proprietor of the bar, as soon as he saw the shit hitting the fan outside, went behind the bar as the old man, Roy, opened what looked like a safe room located behind the bar. At first she thought it a bit odd... but then again, there was the incident with the aliens invading a few years back. Oh and the Battle in Harlem before that. Oh and the Stark Expo thing that occurred before that. Then there was the HYDRA attack on the United Nations building... that terrorist bombing in Hells Kitchen.<br/><br/>Yeah plenty of shit went done in new York to the point that when Luke Cage started to produce weapons from under the bar like it was a Dean Koontz novel, she actually took it in stride. Why<em>wouldn't</em>you be crazy prepared for anything if you lived in New York City? All of a sudden she wished she had brought more then a pistol to the bar. But dragging a large sporting rifle out to her 21st birthday seemed like a poor idea at the time. She was busy standing there, more getting in the way of the other patrons as they hurried into the safe room, then anything else but that was because her eyes were transfixed on the street outside. The fact that the interior of the bar was only illuminated by some cell phone lights meant that her eyes, and everyones eyes, were rapidly adjusting to the darkness and soon they could see more outside then just the night.<br/><br/>"Birthday girl. Party is over! Come on!" Roy then called out to her as Abigail saw what was coming, and the fear started to shoot up her spine as she saw the pale shapes darting down the darkened streets. She turned to Luke Cage. "Give me a gun. I was in a cadet program for the police. I can handle one," Abigail then said as nearby Ron shook his head.<br/><br/>"I thought you were too smart to be a cop!" Roy shot back to her, smirking a bit.<br/><br/>"I'm not a cop," Abigail replied before turning to Luke. "It didn't take..." she said, extending her hand to Luke. Sure she already had a gun... but... she didn't want to pull out an illegal firearm if she didn't have to. Plus... this seemed like a situation where two guns would be better then one. If those... things... broke in... reloading might be a bit of a hassle. Of course, it hadn't quite dawned on her alcohol buzzed mind that a strange inebriated 21 year old asking for a gun and swearing she had law enforcement training wouldn't be the most trust inducing statement to make. But if those things broke in well, Abigail was glad she did bring her own pistol. Gun laws be damned, better judged by twelve then carried by six.