"Do I take one for each time?"

"Only if you want to," Matt replied with a raised eyebrow. He'd caught a glimpse of a teenage rebel in her somewhere, but he really hadn't expected that. There were no details, only the insinuation that she had been arrested more than once. That was ballsy, really. Matt had never found himself in hand cuffs before, and he had rarely met a person who had done it more than once, and was still on the other side of bars to tell the tale. She clearly had a pretty sordid past of her own.

The next question was an easy one for Matt to admit to. He'd been wearing a t-shirt back at his bar, so she might've caught a glimpse of the tattoo on the back of his arm. He was sitting with a jacket on, though, so there was no easy way to make his body art obvious without removing it. He decided to pick up his shot glass and tip it back wordlessly. Unless she asked for more information, the tattoo would be up to her imagination.

Matt set his glass down on the table with a little more force, beginning to feel the buzz from the vodka. The next question he posed simply. "Never have I ever run away from home." If she was as much of a troublemaker as she'd claimed, then that was bound to be a surefire.

>>"Only if you want to,"

Sveta decided to take one shot for all the arrests. She, unlike Matt, was not trying to get blind drunk tonight. And besides, the fact seemed to be enough to surprise him; she did not need to disclose the actual count. Not that she actually remembered.

Tattoos, though. Sveta had piercings, back in the day, but never a tattoo (those were expensive, if she wanted them to look good). But Matt drank, sadly without removing any clothes. Tattoo, yes. Show and tell, no. Sveta didn't ask.

>>"Never have I ever run away from home."

The blonde quirked an eyebrow and drank. He was getting a hang of the game, and putting two and two together. In Sveta's mind, this was a detail that was not worth fussing over. Yeah, she ran away. She had a good reason to.

"Never have I even been in the military." She could ask sure questions, too.

Neither of the two of them were really into talking, it seemed, and neither asked any clarifying questions. Matt had to admit that he was curious about her, and she was doing a good job of distracting him, but if he didn't want her to ask questions, then he had to offer her the same allowance. They would each only share as much as they felt comfortable sharing for the time being. It wasn't really a way to get to know someone, but that wasn't what they were doing, was it? For now, Matt was just trying to get a sense of the woman across from him, all while keeping his mind occupied. It felt better to be thinking of someone else.

She was a runaway, though. That much she did drink to. Matt wondered what might've made her bolt from a home, but, as per the rules, he didn't ask, and she didn't say. He nodded slowly, taking in the woman across from him. She had certainly seen enough of the world, and it was a little funny that it was her that would have broken the news to him. He wasn't likely to fully piece it together on his own, so it had to have been someone, but her? That was just strange.

Following the next question, Matt bobbed his head to either side and picked up his shot glass. It was either a lucky guess or she had seen his dog tags. Either way, she hadn't had enough to not be paying attention. He shot the vodka back, his nerve officially calmed as he set the glass back down and refilled it. "I'm not drinking for each deployment, am I?" he clarified, though he knew the answer was no. They were quickly collecting facts about one another. At this rate, she would know him better than most of his coworkers after just a few more questions.

"Never have I ever dated a mutant," he said. That one was less about her past and more a personal question. He was just curious as to the inner workings of a mutant organization, mostly.

Vodka was doing its job. They were burning through the questions, getting more hits than misses, and Matt was visibly relaxing as he caught up to her in the buzz. He did not look surprised when she drank for his question. Sveta wondered if she just had the runaway vibe, or if he put her other comments together. She shot back with a sure guess of her own, and he admitted to it.

>>"I'm not drinking for each deployment, am I?"

Sveta smirked and watched him drink. He was holding his own, and now that the game was on, maybe he was also at least a little distracted from his freakout.
Military. Figures.

>>"Never have I ever dated a mutant,"

Sveta arched an eyebrow again. "On purpose?" She took the shot, for Jude and for so many others (good thing they had a bulk deal going on, one shot for each answer, instead of a head count). But he brought dating up, and used it for another easy guess, so she was about to do the same.

"Never have I ever been married."

Things were getting easier; he was feeling lighter with each shot that he took. The information that he had just learned was tucked at the back of his mind, and it would stay there if he could keep it that way. It was like it was edging in the back of his mind - only just barely there, accessible if he wanted it, but for now, not at the forefront of every thought. If it would just stay there, then he would be alright. He could hold himself together until he had a moment where it didn't matter, or if he did end up setting that appointment with his therapist. It seemed healthier than losing it in some public place, anyway.

She drank for dating a mutant. That would make sense. She ran in a circle of mutants, and if hormones got involved, then the inevitable would happen. Besides, a pretty foreign girl working for a corporation? He would be more surprised if she hadn't had a drink after that.

"Never have I ever been married."

Cheap shot. He was still wearing his wedding ring. Matt felt his stomach drop a little as he reached for his refilled shot glass and tipped it back, his other hand stuck to the table as if he was using it as a life line. Why'd she have to go and bring that back up? He didn't look at her as he placed his glass back on the table, letting out a calming breath as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was trying hard not to picture her face. Trying hard not to go back to the place he'd almost regressed to. God, he had been doing so well. So well.

Without looking back at her, he refilled his glass and shot it back a second later. Again, he refilled it and tipped it back. "One for each year," he said, though it was really just an excuse to keep the buzz going. The buzz was what was keeping his mind blank. The images in the back started to spin out of focus again, and he could simply post another question.

"Never have I ever said 'I love you' without meaning it."

Okay, so it was a cheap shot (much like the drinks they were having). Dude was wearing a wedding ring (yes, Sveta noticed that), and yet somehow he went to freak out at a bar, rather than going home. Not that any of that was Sveta's business. She was just trying to help him get drunk.

And drink he did. Three times. The bulk deal was apparently not a thing anymore. Sveta tilted her head.

>>"One for each year,"

Three years. And he was visibly rattled again. Getting drunk, yes, but not exactly in a happy way. Did his wife leave him?... Sveta reminded herself that it was none of her damn business. But it was definitely a vulnerable point for him.
For a moment, she thought he would talk. Then, he just went on with the game.

>>"Never have I ever said 'I love you' without meaning it."

Sveta rested her hands on the table, staring Matt down. She was not going to drink for that one. Really, the only person she said those words to had been Jude. And she meant them, every time. She might have been a runaway and a criminal and a masked vigilante, but there were things even she did not do. Or say. So, there were two of them now, sitting on the two sides of the table, not drinking.

"Look at us romantics" Sveta smirked, momentarily suspending the game. There was bitterness in her smirk, but then again, there was bitterness in his everything.

Half of him had expected her to drink after his last statement. She was a runaway, clearly with some sort of past, and she had admitted to several things already. But saying the dreaded 'I love you' without meaning it was apparently not in her past. He nodded slowly, his eyes still slightly unfocused.

Matt couldn't remember the specifics of each 'I love you' he had uttered, but he could remember the important ones. The first time he'd said it to her. His wedding day. The night she died. Hell, even when he'd said it to his previous girlfriends, he'd meant it. There had never been a time when he went as far as to lie about something like that. It was part of why he hadn't said it in years.

"Look at us," he mimicked with a nod. Romantics? Maybe, or maybe they were just people who didn't sell themselves easily. That much was clear from their conversation, anyway. Neither of them had really admitted to much. The game was paused, too, while she stared at him. Neither of them were drinking, and without a return statement, there was no room to start, either. Matt leaned over to the table and refilled his glass while he waited a second, though he didn't drink it. It was simply there for the next question.

He looked back up at her, catching a glimpse of bitterness as his vision crossed her features. She suddenly looked older than she had in his bar. "You gonna keep going, or are you waiting for something else?" he asked, his fingers running up the side of the glass he had just poured. Was she waiting for him to talk, or something? To suddenly start spilling all his secrets? For once, he could say that it didn't sound all that horrible, but it wasn't entirely likely, either. His other elbow rested on the table as he rubbed the back of his neck and ran his hand through his hair.

>>"Look at us,"

They sat across the table from each other, taking a moment. At the rate they had been drinking, it was probably a good thing to breathe for ten seconds. Svetalana was definitely feeling the kick of the vodka by now, and he had to be feeling about the same. The plan had been to get him drunk, and it was working. Sveta wondered exactly how drunk he wanted to be. Sure, he said he needed to forget, but honestly, she did not have the upper body strength to drag him to a taxi.

>>"You gonna keep going, or are you waiting for something else?"

"Waiting for you to keel over." Sveta smirked. They needed a minute to process information, and process the liquor as well. She flagged the waitress down and ordered some fries. Vodka on an empty stomach was a horrible idea. She had eaten a hot dog, but he was just off his work shift.

"Alright" Sveta refilled her own shot glass as well. Matt was not being very talkative, so they might as well just proceed with the game. "Never have I ever shot someone." she announced, before she drank her shot. It was time to find some similarities.

"You first," Matt said, cocking his head slightly as he raised an eyebrow at her. Waiting for him to keel over. Sure, except that he had a history of drinking like that. His body had adjusted in the year after Sophie's death. Sure, he was a little out of practice, but he figured that he would still be able to keep up if he tried. That being said, he was still feeling the kick of the shots he'd just taken, and his head was swimming just a little. Not that he would tell her that.

He hadn't eaten since well before his shift started, and that had been hours before. Drinking vodka on an empty stomach was what usually had him dragging people out of the bar or cutting them off before they got too far, but he didn't think about it. He didn't think about the fact that it would be Svetlana or the bartender there that would have the wonderful task of sending him out on his ass when the inevitable happened and he drank too much. The thoughts didn't reach his mind, and even if they had, it wouldn't have stopped him.

Svetlana was smart enough to order them a plate of fries, though, and Matt added a second plate of sweet potato fries to the order. He was feeling like sweet potato fries. Well, it was a constant state, but that night was particularly bad.

The next question she asked had her drinking too. "Now what's a girl like you doing shooting people?" he asked after taking a shot of his own. His excuse had already been brought to light - the military. Her story was less obvious, and he was feeling more talkative with that many drinks in him. He actually wanted to know what wanted that drink for her. It was against their unspoken rules up until that point, but who knew? Maybe he would answer some of her questions too.

They were going to be finding things that they'd both done, it seemed. That was good; he was actually running out of things that he'd never done. "Never have I ever watched someone die," he said before refilling his glass and tipping it back. He was getting dark; edging along that place. Or maybe he just wanted to see how much she would admit to. Maybe he wanted to make himself feel the guilt of it again.

Neither of them was ready to give up just yet. They did order some food though, settling down for the long haul the two experienced alcoholics. Not that Sveta got drunk that often. In fact, she had not been truly drunk for a long time. But if she was going to do this, at least she wanted to know more about Matt. He was a strange guy. Not in a quirky New York way... Sveta could sense someone who had the same kind of baggage she did. That would have usually sent her running the other way. But not this time. Which was... strange.

>>"Now what's a girl like you doing shooting people?"

"A girl like me?" she quirked an eyebrow. She wondered just what kind of a girl he thought she was. Of course, he drank. He had been in the military, after all. The guy had probably seen some sh*t. "I promise I've never shot someone who didn't deserve it."

It was his turn.

>>"Never have I ever watched someone die,"

Oh, there it was. It wasn't 'killed someone'; it was 'watched someone die.' Sveta paused before she drank. It still counted.

"Is that what happened?" she asked, nodding at his hand that wore the wedding ring. Dead wife was definitely baggage worth drinking for.

This woman was full of secrets, clearly. He'd half expected her to come up with some sort of tale about how she'd been taught how to shoot by her daddy in Russia or something, but he knew he was just being cynical. There was a chance that for once, someone could rival him for having seen sh**. Of course she had her own tales; her own reason as to why she would have shot a gun in her time. And somehow she had ended up simply working for a mutant organization and drinking with some stranger in a bar. He wondered silently - did it disappoint her to find herself there, ever?

Because sometimes it really f***ing disappointed him.

When he posed his next question, he watched her closely as she drank. His mind was already wandering to where he had been trying to keep it from all night, and he was almost hoping that she would say something to stop him. Instead, she asked him about it specifically, pushing him over the edge. Subconsciously, hadn't that been what he'd wanted all along? She was sitting there, giving him someone to tell all about the hardships that he'd experienced. If only he could hear his thoughts out loud - he would have hated them.

Yeah, he was considering telling her. How many shots was he in? Enough to feel a little floaty, so it was a fair number. He was actually starting to feel a little chatty, and if he was going to tell anyone, why not the stranger who had clued him into his condition in the first place? It made sense logically. She should be the one to hear his bull first hand.

Matt took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face, digging his thumbs into the bags under his eyes as he thought about what to say. After a second, he simply nodded, his eyes closed as he put his arms back down on the table. "You got it. You want a sob story? Cause I got plenty of those. God, look, you've turned me into a f***ing sad sack. The gist, anyway, is that I've shut mutant powers off before. I seem to have great timing for everything." Vague, but it was about as much as he could muster. Thankfully, he was too drunk to feel like throwing anything large, so he simply leaned back in his seat and tossed his shot glass back onto the table, hearing the glass bounce on the wood. It didn't crack or chip, but the sound was enough to make a few people in the bar turn their heads.

Matt was definitely getting drunk. And broody. Sveta was not sure if that was because he was a broody drunk in general, or because the whole adapted thing and the drinking game had dragged up some sh*t that made him broody. Honestly, she very rarely had people complain to her while drunk. She was just not the kind of person who usually invited sob stories. And yet, she was seemingly stuck with this one. She hazarded a wild guess as to why.

>>"You got it. You want a sob story? Cause I got plenty of those. God, look, you've turned me into a f***ing sad sack. The gist, anyway, is that I've shut mutant powers off before. I seem to have great timing for everything."

Sveta let out a deep sigh. She was starting to get the picture. Watching wife die. Being upset about shutting off powers. Sounding bitter about himself in general.
Guilt.
Also, irony. She had been where he was now. Except, she did the exact opposite. She booster the wrong power, and people died. The feeling was pretty much the same.

"I'm sorry." she said sincerely, once he had thrown down the glass "I know it sounds like bullsh*t, but I do know the feeling." she paused and shook her head "I wouldn't believe that, coming from someone else, either. Maybe we should start our own support group."

Had he painted the picture clearly enough? It certainly seemed that way as Svetlana let out a deep sigh. Matt fell silent, knowing that he had made enough of an impact already. It was bound come out sooner or later, he realized. It felt good to have said it out loud in front of another living person. It was almost as if he had just let something out that had been spilling over the edge of his subconscious for some time. Surprisingly, as he sat back in his seat, he felt a little more calm than he had before. Not good, but calm.

Could she hear the guilt that seeped into his tone? Likely, but it would have to be obvious by that point. Maybe all of his actions would make sense to her then. He didn’t owe her an explanation, but she had gotten one - that was more than most people could say for their interactions with Matt.

Maybe it was all the vodka that was making the room a little fuzzy, but he actually believed her when she said that she understood. He didn’t bother to wave her off when she offered an apology, which was what he usually did. Instead, he looked her in the eyes from across the table, narrowing his gaze as he took her in. It seemed like he had found another of his kind, for once. He actually didn’t doubt her sincerity, nor the fact that she had seen things in her time.

“For drunk, damaged people,” he added with a hint of a laugh. It really didn’t sound like a great idea to stick a bunch of people like that in a room together, but perhaps he was wrong.

The waitress returned a second later with their orders of fries, and set them down in front of them. Matt reached for a sweet potato fry and took his time eating the end of it, looking almost thoughtful as he stared behind the booth they were sitting at. “So. You got your own sh** that you wanna talk about, then? Since we’re getting real, here, apparently?” It wasn’t common for him to be on the giving end of the stories. It actually wasn’t a bad feeling. “Normally, I’m a great listener. Something about me being off my game, I guess.”

He looked almost... relaxed, once he confirmed what she had been suspecting. Dead wife. Ouch. Sveta doubted he had told that to many people before; if he had a support group to talk to, he would not have been drinking himself blind with a stranger. But now that they found at least part of the problem, she relaxed too. Maybe support group was not a bad idea.

>>“For drunk, damaged people,”

"Speak for yourself, I'm not drunk yet" Sveta grinned, starting on the fries. The damaged part... that one she did not argue with.

>>“So. You got your own sh** that you wanna talk about, then? Since we’re getting real, here, apparently? Normally, I’m a great listener. Something about me being off my game, I guess.”

"That's because you are drunk" Sveta reiterated, refilling her glass with a smirk "But I can tell you a story if you want."

She was comfortably buzzed enough to not care about judgment. Besides, she would not have taken judgment from this Matt dude anyway.

"Never have I ever been a mail order bride." she grinned, before knocking back the shot, clearly proving the claim was not true. "Ran away from a sh*tty home, and had a little sister to support. So, decided to live the American dream." she picked up a sweet potato fry from his plate as she talked "Except, on arrival, I found out that it was a... setup. Get this." she gestured with the fry "The guy's mom was so desperate to get him a date that she ordered me from Russia. Under a false identity and everything." she chuckled. It was a funny story, at a few years' distance. "Bless him, he was a sweet guy. Still in school... oh, and a mutant. Acid saliva. Almost melted my f*** face off. So. Never got around to the marriage part."

Yeah, so he was getting pretty drunk by that point. To be completely fair, he’d had quite a bit to drink, and getting drunk had been his original plan. “Damn, you caught me,” he joked, raising his hands as if to admit to defeat. He really wasn’t looking his best, but it was a good thing that he wasn’t trying to impress her. That ship had long since sailed.

She agreed to tell a story of her own - that was only fair, really. He’d gotten deeper with her than he had with anyone in a long time, and he didn’t know much about her in return. For all he knew, she could have been completely lying about understanding what he was going through.

The words that came from her mouth were not what he had expected, but he had come to be alright with that from her. Everything she said seemed to be from another world, though some could have said the same about him. Mail order bride. That didn’t really explain how she managed to stay there and end up… where they were now, but it explained why she left Russia. Matt nodded from the other side of the table, letting out a low whistle as she told him exactly how it had happened.

“So you’re an unmarried mail order bride, then?” he mused, more to himself than to her. It was an interesting thing to be, for sure. Definitely not what he would have pegged her as when she first walked into the bar, but then again, he had been completely off about her from the very first moment he saw her. “So what happened next? You just stuck around here and taught Russian? Fired guns when you felt like it?”

She was still holding out on him, despite talking more than he had heard her talk to date. It was interesting, though. She had very nearly married a mutant who would melt her face off with just a goodnight kiss. He couldn’t imagine that being an entirely enjoyable marriage.