Ro was going to be angry with her. Or even more likely, disappointed. But she was back living much closer to her hometown than she'd ever really wanted to again, and she felt like she had a right to feel properly ambivalent about it—and to get a little liquored over it in the sort of place a straight-laced literature nerd normally didn't skulk around.

Maybe she hadn't thought this through properly after all. The music was deafening, and the constant frenzy on the dance floor kept distracting her from the corner of her eye. But she was just settling deep enough into her whiskey now that the sensory overload was starting to soften into a pleasantly mindless drone.

The reverie of her staring competition with her drink was broken without warning, as an elbow flew from somewhere out of left field and knocked her glass sideways. Mara scowled, though more in confusion than anger. It was only after a long, dismayed second of watching the dregs of her drink seep across the bar that she finally looked up at the lady who was offering to buy a replacement.

"Uh...sure! I'd like that. I wasn't quite done with that whiskey," she said with a short laugh. Then she gave the lady a second look. "I think I saw you dancing earlier. No clue how you're getting by in heels. My feet would be killing me." She said this in a tone of due appreciative awe.

Just because this stranger had knocked a perfectly good drink out of her hand didn't mean she wasn't going to be friendly.

giada morgan

Mara didn't need to catch the bartender's look to tell that the lady next to her had already made much better use of the bar than she had that night. The whole stumbling-into-strangers-and-knocking-over-their-drinks thing was a bit of a giveaway, even with heels.

Mara didn't have plans to have quite as good of a night. But she certainly wasn't going to say no to a refill.

"Don't worry about it!" she said when the woman apologized again. She was so giggly and clearly in a good mood that Mara couldn't fault her for not looking where she was going. When she held up a foot to show off her heels, Mara put on an amazed expression. "Wow! Fancy! Are they really not giving you blisters...?"

At the question about whether she was in a dancing mood, Mara laughed. "Never in my life!" She was just here for the alcohol. Drinking at home wasn't really an option--Ro would find her stash long before she could enjoy any of it.

Speaking of drinks! The bartender returned with theirs, and Mara took a grateful sip. And then her eyebrows almost vanished under her bangs as the stranger knocked back half of hers almost immediately. She hoped she wouldn't have to save this lady from an unexpected date with the floor if she lost track of her legs. Mara continued to nurse her own drink, and even though she was a tiny bit worried for the stranger, she smiled back with sincere warmth when she asked for a name.

"My name's Mara," she said. "What's yours?" Then she made a vague gesture to their surroundings. "I'm kinda new to the city--just moved here last week. Is all of Slateport this...much?" She didn't quite mean to, but her sheepish smile broadcasted a fish-out-of-water vibe.

giada morgan

Darling? Something about being called that, and the implication that she was hiding serious dance talent, made Mara blush bright red. She took a gulp of whiskey to cover her embarrassment. And the tone the wobbly lady used to repeat her name (so much enthusiasm!) didn't help either.

She cursed her heart for being so invested in a stranger's less-than-sober opinion of her.

"Gia it is!" said Mara. "Great name. I don't think I've ever heard it before."

She was feeling warm, and her prickly sense of personal space was reacting more slowly than normal, but she was still very aware of the fact that Gia was leaning in towards her while Mara talked about being new in town. This probably wasn't the best place for someone with a voice as quiet as hers, huh...?

Anyway, her instinct for conversation starters was spot on this time; as soon as the question was out of her mouth, Gia was grinning and chatting—and still lingering very much within Mara's personal space, thank you very much—but her enthusiasm was infectious, and Mara smiled back at her as she listened.

And then Gia put out her ultimatum, and Mara had to freeze her smile in place to cover her reflexive squirm of dismay.

Maybe her first drink was hitting her harder than expected, or maybe it was the reckless abandon of being a completely unknown person in a new town—but whatever it was, something made Mara glance at the dance floor, give a comedically exaggerated sigh, down the rest of her still-mostly-full drink, look Gia square in her puppy-dog face with a conspiratorial smile, and say, "Let's do it, then!"

Under different circumstances, a conscientious voice in her brain would have been saying what on earth Mara, you've never done club dancing in your life, what are you even doing. But the whiskey had neatly put that voice to bed for the evening.

giada morgan