Hpnotiq (Open)

I'm officially a masochist...

That being the first thought running through your mind when you're going out to have a good time was a poor sign. Still, here she was. Kiva walked into the small bar, and she was aware of the wave of silence that washed over the humans within. A number were blatantly staring at the tall, muscular figure glittering bronze as she walked from the door to the bartender; a pool game screeched to a halt and one of the men nearly dropped their cue.

Kiva snorted. These people lived in New-freaking-York. The home of a mutant school. Even if they'd never knowingly seen a mutant before, they shouldn't be so surprised. She'd even been in this particular bar before, albeit not in...what, three or four months?

Bars weren't her usual scene, and she really wasn't one to drink these days, anyway. Suddenly going from being able to legally drink to not being able to legally drink for a couple of years after she'd moved to the States had broken what beginnings of a habit may have formed, and once she had turned twenty-one, drinking just seemed like old news. She'd already had her big 'I can drink now' party at eighteen back home, so she'd opted out of it for twenty-one and simply not looked back.

Still, sometimes, she picked up a six-pack of beer at the store and then drank it over the course of a month. Or she came here. She flopped down on the bar stool and looked at bartender, who seemed calm enough, though silent. She didn't recognize him. The visible mutant let out a faint, annoyed sigh and slid off her leather jacket. Her small wings opened and stretched, and she willfully ignored what sounded like muttering going on behind her.

"Green-Eyed Monster," she said bluntly, and the look she paired it with discouraged any smart remarks. Her own eyes were brown, anyway, so it wouldn't have been all that clever in the first place. Drink ordered, she leaned slightly on the bar and tapped a black claw on it as she let her gaze lazily run over her surroundings. A few people were polite enough to look away when she made eye-contact. A few weren't.

Yep. I'm a masochist.