Gregory's death hit her harder than she had anticipated.

The spider mutant found herself hopping from one bar to another, filling the emptiness inside her with food and booze, and maybe the occasional bed partner. It wasn't working, really. The fact that alcohol didn't seem to affect her at all anymore didn't help. Half the time bartenders cut her off just to be cautious, while others marveled over how much money she was willing to spend on something that had no use to her. 

She'd hopped all over the city by this point. Started a fight at the last bar she'd been in and lost due to carelessness. She nursed a scabby, busted lip as she headed for the next place with an aura of aggression following her like a cloud. There was a place up the street she hadn't been to in a while. It was a hip, popular place with good drinks and a dance floor. Maybe she would find someone to entertain herself with there, one way or another.

The line of people waiting to get in the door was long. Stretching down the sidewalk and nearly around a corner as she approached. Aside from the cut on her lip, she was dressed decently. All black in jeans and leather, hair slicked back in a lazy combover with her shaves sides displayed. She'd actually bothered with makeup for the first time in ages since quite a few bars were more than a little persnickety about how you looked.

She headed past the long line of people waiting toward a much shorter line that had formed of people who felt they were more deserving of going inside. Megan definitely felt that she fit into that category at the moment. She was hot and had a lot money to toss around at the moment. 

She stopped behind a few people, waiting as a short blonde argued with the doorman about being let in.

"REALLY? Really. You're checking it AGAIN. It's not a @#$^ing fake!" Three people. Three people were required to look at her ID at this moment in time. He crossed her long-gloved arms, tapping her elbow with her fingers in time with her foot on the pavement. EllaLouise was in a bad mood as the three big men in tight black shirts oogled her ID and tried to figure it out. 

Did she tape her photo over another person's? Nope, no cuts or peels. Was it a typo? Nope, she had two forms. But how? How could little ol L be 36 years old?

Clearly that was f#$%ing impossible. She was out of patience. "Look, I don't even wanna #$%#ing drink, okay? I just want to sit in my RESERVED BOOTH and eat my PREPARED ORDER of ultimate nachos, which I already paid 30 DOLLARS for!" This place was a dance club, yes, but in the foody realms it was also known for one thing in particular. The most unhealthy, over the top nacho plate in  New York, and L, bearing a power with many drawbacks, had opted long ago to take advantage of one of the few perks of being stuck in a very specific state: She could not gain weight, she could not have a heart attack, as far as she knew, and she sure as @#$^ didn't get food poisoning.

This potential feast sounded terribly amazing. Starting with a bed of house made tortilla chips, they laid down a thick later of refried beans and a soft white cheese, from there, they coated the first layer in a house-made chili, another layer of nacho cheese, house made french fries, curly, none of that straight @#$^, seasoned, another layer of zesty con carne, chips, cheese, and peppers, oh, the peppers. 

She wanted it bad, and these sons of $$%#^es wouldn't stop her from getting it. She jumped up once, waving a hand and missing, then jumped again and got ahold of the collar of the one that seemed to be in charge. His surprise was the only thing that allowed her to drag him down to her level. "Now you listen to me, unless you can find something wrong with my ID, or my face, I suggest you let me in before my @#$^ing Nachos get cold or there will be HELL TO PAY!" Her little voice roared out the last part, and she let go, fixing her fancy bonnet. Slowly they parted, and she grabbed the sides of her frilly little dress daintily, curtsied a bit, and hurried past to claim her seat.

Well... @#$%, that was something she could add onto her list of 'aint' never seen that before'.

The little blonde hollering and screaming up a storm, threatening men twice her size over her ID. What was she, 10 years old? Jesus, they started clubbing younger and younger these days.

To her growing surprise, the three men eventually let the little past. The spider woman blinked as the line started moving, giving one of the men a questioning raised an eyebrow as she passed. They let her in with no problems. Hardly even a glance.

She scouted the area inside for a little blond head with a frilly red bonnet. Maybe she had found that fun something she had been looking for.

Megan followed along behind casually, watching as the young lady found her booth and sat. A server appeared a second later wth a large platter of nachos in hand, set them down quickly and vanished again as soon as he was done. Megan waited for a split second before inviting herself on over.

Before dainty gloved hands could even get ahold of a single nacho Megan had slid herself onto the cushioned bench seat and plucked a chip from the top of the pile. She made sure to make and maintain eye contact while popping it into her mouth.

"I wasn't aware they let seven-year-olds in here." She commented, chewing idly.

The oafs let her pass. Nose-up she ignored the looks of the floozies, Chads and Ashleys in the club, bouncing and shuffling around like fools as they watched her, likely wondering what a child was doing in the club. Morons. Not worth a look back.

The slight din of anxiety over eyes settled when she was seated in her nice, out of the way corner booth. The sweet smell of meaty, cheesy victory soon met her nose. Her Nachos arrived, a choral cheer and bright white light following it as the giant plate was placed gently before her. He sniffled a bit; her nose got runny when she was excited sometimes, it would die down.

It was time. With a content sigh, a deep sniff of the near toxic levels of cheese and meat, and a content smile, she reached out  a gloved hand to grab her first bite... And someone else claimed it first.

She was frozen in place, just as her body was frozen in time. Her eye twitched. Her finger twitched, her eye twitched again, and she let her her sight shoot to the one who had stolen her  precious food. There, before her, sat an absolute train wreck of a woman. Beat to hell, wearing shoddily applied make-up, and a stupid smug smile. F@#$ this girl.
 
"I didn't know they let drunken trailer trash this deeply into the city, but here we are..." She stated dryly. "Who the @#$^ are you and why are you bothering me? Also, stop eating my #@$^ing Nachos, @#$re Face."

 

"I didn't know they let drunken trailer trash this deeply into the city, but here we are..."

Her eyes closed slightly with laughter as she reached for a second chip, slowly... meticulously. The girl certainly had a mouth her. Must be a New York Native. "You'd be surprised." She interrupted, talking over the girl as she continued on. She chewed the second chip slowly while staring at the blond unblinkingly.

"Who the @#$^ are you and why are you bothering me? Also, stop eating my #@$^ing Nachos, @#$re Face."

"Just drunken trailer trash." She replied back, stealing the third nacho. This one had a hunk of delicious looking meat and cheese on it.

"Nah... I rather like this particular plate of nachos. It's calling to me. Besides, I'm sure you wouldn't want to ruin that pretty dress for yours. Or those gloves." She reached for a fourth but didn't intend on eating that one. She wasn't able to ingest much junk food without getting sick, so she'd limit herself to what she'd already stolen.

"Unless you wanna try and make me stop, pipsqueak."

EllaLouise was not a very strong individual. She had the constitution of a limp noodle, and similar muscle structure. This made open confrontation with others a daunting task. It also forced her to think about how to approach scratching someone you instantly hated's eyes out without being tossed about like a ragdoll.

Therein lied the rub. L wanted to smack this ruddy b#$%face, but she did not want to be batted around like a cat toy. Slowly, she climbed to her feet on the cushion of the booth to bring her closer to matching in height with the trashy bimbo.

"Alright, then. I can see you are a strong woman. I think you and I got off on the wrong foot. I can see that given the right circumstances we would be fast friends. Before that can happen, though, we must wipe the slate clean. I propose this; We both punch each other. Right in the face. I will inform the bouncers that I am okay, and that I consented. And then I get to take my turn... But... Since I am clearly smaller, and weaker, I get three punches. If you knock me out with your punch, though, I don't get mine." She held up three fingers to accentuate her point. 

"And then I will buy you a drink, share my food, and we will look back on this fondly as one day we embrace in our old age." The fancily dressed girl then held her chin out, and waited patiently.

Megan watched the small blond as a disinterested look slipped onto her face, while fiddling with the chip she had stolen but didn't intend to eat. "So, let me get this straight... You want to let bygones be bygones, but first I have to punch you in the face. I also have to take your word that you wont just let the security in this place assume I started a fight, and get me kicked out. Then you get to punch me, three times, and after that we suddenly become buddy buddy, share food and drink, and everything is grand. I get that right?"

It was funny, really... but also quickly growing boring. The chick was a bit more interesting when she was yelling at the top of her lungs versus trying to logic her way around everything.

"Hate to burst your bubble, pipsqueak. But I don't really do friends. Why would I have sat myself down at your table and dug into your disgusting chips if I wanted that?" The spider mutant dropped the nacho between her fingers straight onto the table and sat back, icy stare pinned on the blond Lolita.

After a moment she lifted one hand and started to peel one of her tactical gloves off. "I suppose I could humor you though. I haven't got anything better to do tonight." Off came the slim, shiny knuckles she'd had tucked away under the glove. She tucked both the glove and the weapon into her coat and interlocked her fingers to stretch them.

"Don't blame me when you get blood on your frock, though." She shifted in her seat, adjusting so that she had more room for her arms and so she was closer to the blonde. Then, after a shot pause for dramatics, she reached out and flicked the girl on the tip of her nose with her pointer finger.

"Alright, your turn."

L Shrugged, feeling as if she'd gained a bit of momentum in the conversation as the ratty @#$^& replied. She placed her hands on her hips and stood all instead of leaning forward. "I was being totally honest. It's your fault if the proposition is too intimidating for you." 

She gritted her teeth again as the older woman grabbed another freaking chip, and DROPPED IT ON THE TABLE LIKE SOME KIND OF ANIMAL.

L blinked a few times as  she peeled off her glove, revealing honest to goodness brass knuckles, which she hid on her person again. Okay then. Wow. This @#$^& was crazy. Great. What had she just gotten herself into? The 36 year old 12 year old braced for impact as the woman prepared to attack. "I wouldn't count no it."

"Don't blame me when you get blood on your frock, though."

"I wouldn't count no it." she replied quickly as she clenched her teeth. It wasn't like she actually needed to brace herself... No hit could possibly hurt her, as far as she was aware. This lady wasn't about to change that... Still, getting punched was scary on an instinctual level. She waited, maybe even closed her eyes a little... and then the woman flicked her nose, and told her it was her turn... She sniffled. What an ass.

All of that douchie talk and she wasn't even going to follow through?! That made the small girl even more infuriated, so she stepped closer, slowly removed her own glove, and wound up for a punch to the chest. Now, She was aware that she wasn't exactly a brawler... That punch was going to be pathetic... So she made it doubly so by not even giving it part of her all... The objective was to make the woman think that this was going to be even sillier than it sounded. Once she felt safe the next step would be an uppercut to only her nose, being sure to put her leverage from the legs into it, and then a punch toward  the throat, counting on her head to rock back a bit.

If all went well, the little 12 year old would be stepping back to appreciate her handi-work, a devilish smile on her face. Otherwise, she was probably about to be in for a very rough time.

She punched her in the boob.

The boob.

That was a move even Megan used only once in a blue moon. The Spider mutant glanced down, but saw how the Blond tensed the rest of her body. She tucked her chin slightly and relaxed the muscles in her neck. The second punch hit, while it wasn't the hardest hit she had ever felt, she still felt it. Her nose popped painfully as cartilage ground against bone, and her head did indeed bob back a little. But, she recovered quickly turned so that the third punch hit the meaty side of her neck.

"Would you look at that. Little Miss Muffet packs a bit of a punch."

Megan slid in a little closer to the woman and threw an arm around her small shoulders. "Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and whey." Her nose was bleeding a bit. Dribbling down her lip and onto her teeth as she recited the poem. Her eyes seemed to glow eerily in the dim lighting.

"Along came a spider, who sat down beside her..." A handful of silver dollar sized, fuzzy black spiders crept out slowly from around the edges of the table and bench seat. "... and frightened Miss Muffet away."

"So what was that last part about becoming fast friends?"

Oh.... Oh that was satisfying. You know those thoughts you had, like, if you ever got into a fight with someone, and you played it over and over in your head, like, this is what I would do, full of sound effects and everything? This was that, but actually happening, as far as her inexperienced perception was concerned.

She hit her in the nose. Hard. With a closed fist and everything! It was breath taking! And then she punched her right in the neck! Hah! She totally just beat someone up. Her smile turned almost manic when she saw the trickle of blood start to flow. It quickly turned into an expression of shock when the louse of a lady shrugged it off, and started reciting children's rhymes... Really?

Reall-ohgod she was putting an arm around her. She kinda retracted a little, gulping a bit. 

With too good to be coincidental timing a few rather large spiders surfaced, and her eyes darted between them and the woman's sort of haunting eyes. She stared quietly for a moment before sitting slowly, and then turning toward one of the spiders to poke at it.

"Woah, so you, like, control them? Are they real? I mean, obviously they're real, but are they constructs, or flesh and blood? Illusions?" She poked a spider quickly. "Nope, they are very certainly real. What a interesting mutation! You know, I really wouldn't have guessed, but I suppose it's obvious. You'd have to have a death wish to walk into random bars and pick fights with strangers without something to back it up..." She reached past the spider, and grabbed a nacho, biting into the first satisfying morsel. 

"How's your nose feel?"

Was she kicking her feet? Hell yes she was kicking her feet.

Megan watched, waited... she still loved seeing people's first reactions to her babies. it varied greatly what she would get.

This time around it appeared that the blond was interested in the arachnids, instead of terrified of them. The spider mutant remained quiet while one spider was poked at. The little creature skittered back, front legs flying in the air threateningly as it tried to make itself look bigger.

A lazy smile curled her lips at the questions. "Constructs. They are made from my flesh and blood. I control them."

"Nope, they are very certainly real. What a interesting mutation! You know, I really wouldn't have guessed, but I suppose it's obvious. You'd have to have a death wish to walk into random bars and pick fights with strangers without something to back it up..."

Her eyes shifted away slightly, before returning. Funny choice of words, that. "They're mostly useless in a fight. I use other means when out hunting for trouble."

The woman questioned her about her nose. Megan hadn't bothered to wipe the blood away, which was still dribbling from her nose. A few drops had reached her shirt. "Your form off." She curled her bare, tattooed fist and brought it up toward the girls face. "You popped a few blood vessels, but you didn't bust it. If you had hit it correctly, you could have broken my nose. That would have left me distracted enough for your throat punch to work."

She threw a slow punch out at the air in front of her. "Next time don't aim from below. Aim straight on if you go for the nose. You're more likely to do damage and less likely to hurt yourself."

She pointed out a few other spots too. The Vagus Nerve, and the sensitive spot behind the ear that made for easy punches. The good old fashion chin.

Once she started, she could really put food away. She started chomping through her pile of greasy death as Megan explained her power. "That's pretty neat. How do you make them? Do you cut a piece off, and it just turns into a spider, or something else?" She looked up absently, and then down to her dress, with had a little blood on it. She smoosh faced a little bit, and opted to ignore it. She'd assumed Nachos would be messy, so she'd chosen an older dress that was more worn out than what she usually liked to wear out in public.

She paused mid bite as the ratty goth made a fist and brought it up to her face, showing her form. She wasn't sure it would help a whole lot, honestly. She was always going to be too weak to really do too much damage in a brawl. Still, it was an interesting concept. In her book-enriched mind the image of punching someone from the bottom just seemed so harsh, but this girl's face was beat up enough over time to tell her she probably had an idea of how to at least survive a few fights.

"Good to know Mrs. Spider." She went back to her plate, having carved a good hole in the nachos, down into the soaked fries. Yum. 

"Aren't you going to ask about me? Why a 'little girl' would be so willing to take a crack in the noggin for a chance at revenge?" She looked up from her chip, reaching out with a free hand to poke another spider that strayed closer. She wasn't afraid of the things. Spiders couldn't bite her, and thus weren't the least bit intimidating. Being as she was had done a lot to affect her sense of danger. She didn't really feel a traditional fear... It was all more toward social situations, actually. Anxiety. Here, though, was fine. Clearly, this woman was a train wreck; there wasn't a soul here she needed to impress. 

It was kind of relieving, honestly.

"Incubate them in my skin, and they pop out of festering wounds when they are ready." People tended to give her the yuck face when she explained how her power worked, so she tended to stop explaining after a while. It didn't help that she was generally always willing to explain the grosser bits of her power in exciting detail.

When the blond, who she was going to permanently dub 'Miss Muffet' if 'Miss spider' was to be her name, asked her about her lack of asking about her, she chuckled and finally wiped her nose with the back of her gloved hand. The spiders on the table had gathered together and after a short powwow, they headed in a group toward the edge of the table in front of Muffet. Together, side by side, the clambered on top of each other and splayed arms out in all directions. A fuzzy black, slowly wobbling triangle of limbs and little blue eyes.

"I was curious when I heard you ripping into that bouncer at the door... but I've met weirder things in my life, so it's not like a short blonde with a thirst for violence is something to shake a stick at. How old are you anyway? My spiders couldn't make out the date on your card very well."

Ellalouise definitely gave her a bit of a yuck face. "You're gonna have to talk to your PR department about how you present that one. Festering, while a wonderful word, doesn't exactly provoke romantic imagery. That said, it may be a good fit for your personality, so take what I say in stride." She suddenly lost interest in the food, and sat up straight, looking at her spiders as they approached.

She gave an appropriately amused smile at the reverse pyramid act. She really did control them. She wondered what level of intelligence they possessed, or how she controlled them... Pheromones? Telepathy? Luck?

She looked to Megan as she spoke again, staring blankly for a moment, and then replying casually to her question. "36." He poked one of the spiders on the second row, trying to get the pyramid to fall over. 

"They speak to you?" She waved at the waiter as she passed, and ordered a drink. The woman stared at him for a long moment, checking her ID three times, and finally giving in. "Can you make them maim stupid people?"

Megan grinned lazily. "Me and 'romantic' never really got along."

36 huh? A few years older than Megan. Would she even make it to 36? @$%&, she didn't know. Th spider mutant neglected to share her own age, instead focusing on the spiders as they fought a valiant battle with L's finger.

Her attention shifted to the waiter who came but, expression morphing into a sneer as the man's eyes slid past her. Could they main stupid people? Without a word, the pile of spiders on the table turned to her in the same movement. She stared them down for a moment before nodding her chin in the direction of the waiter. They then promptly scrambled under the table and out of sight.

Megan leaned back in her seat with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on L as her drink was set down. When the man turned to leave, the horde of spiders were fixed securely to the back of his clothes, blue eyes twinkling in the dim light as he hurried away.

"Attack." She didn't need to utter the word out loud but did it for Miss Muffet's sake. No more than a few seconds later there was a shriek, the sounds of glass shattering, and wild cursing. "-IN MY PANTS! AIIEE! GET THEM OUT GT THM OU-" Teh screaming faded, presumably as the waiter fled the restaurant.

Megan, who was all smiles, chuckled. "They follow commands well enough."