One night was all Lydia had asked for. All she wanted was one peaceful night where she could wallow in teenaged self-pity and hard liquor, and then go back to the Sanctuary and sleep the next day away. Was that so hard to ask for? Apparently it is, the skin-shifter thought as a total sleazeball approached her at the bar table. “Hey baby, this seat taken?” He asked in a husky voice, motioning towards the empty chair next to Dia. She made no motion to acknowledge him, she didn’t even blink. When the man received no response, he took the seat anyway and called out to the bartender, “Hey! How about a beer for me and this lovely lady?”

She continued to ignore the creep and the chest hair poking out from his tacky-looking button-up (that obviously wasn’t buttoned up high enough), and quickly downed the rest of her drink. It wasn’t doing fast enough of a job, she was still coherent. “Actually, I’ll have another one of these thingies, a Jack and a Coke, but not with this skeeve,” Lyd said, holding up her glass and edging away from the man she didn’t feel like dealing with.

As she inched away, the man annoyingly moved closer and closer, his beady eyes continuing to stare at her. “Skeeve? I’m sure you don’t mean that, cutie,” he crooned, baring his teeth in what seemed to be a grin, “And that's an awfully hard drink for such a little thing. So, you come here often?” This guy better get a hint before he gets a stiletto in his face, she thought as she turned her body away from him, towards the empty seat on her other side. She tugged the hem of her dress down for good measure. This is why you don’t come into seedy bars, Lydia. Random old guys hit on you and don’t leave you alone until you throw a drink in their faces. “Oh come on, I just wanna get to know ya.” Where’s that drink?

“It’s all right, I like women who’re more of a challenge.” Ew, ew, ew, ew—oh thank God, the drink. The eighteen-year-old grabbed the glass from the bartender and started taking a sip from it, a long sip. A sip that drained about two-thirds of the cup. “Listen you creep, go away. And stop trying to look up my skirt, yeah?”

>>“Listen you creep, go away. And stop trying to look up my skirt, yeah?”

Muse turned to look. Oh please God don't let it mean trouble. It was trouble enough, sneaking out again for a drink in peace and quiet and hoping to not run into mutants for a change.
Sveta wanted to just sit, drink, and not deal with the whole 'I'm the girl who killed a few hundred people and kinda made a tornado in the middle of NYC' image.

That girl was obviously having trouble getting rid of some jerk. Sveta considered the situation. It would be easy to just not get involved. Walk away. Pretend she didn't hear. Then again, it was hard not to hear them...

“I’m just trying to get to know ya, no need to be snarky.” Seriously? Seriously this guy needs to learn how to quit. A song briefly flashed through Lydia’s mind, one that summed up her situation pretty well.

Old man, why are you staring at me?
Mac on me and my friends, it's kind creepy,
You should be prowling around the old folks home,
Come on dude, leave us alone.

“Come on dude, leave me alone.” Her words were a little slurred. And she had said “dude.” Great. Now was not a good time for the alcohol to start kicking in, as much as she had wanted it to before. She couldn’t properly ward off creepy old guys if her brain stopped working. The rest of Lyd’s body didn’t seem to care, however, as she polished off the rest of her drink and promptly asked for another one. Maybe if I pretend this skeeve doesn’t exist, he’ll disappear. She tried it, squeezing her eyes shut. It didn’t work.

>>“Come on dude, leave me alone.”

All right, the situation was not getting better. Sveta looked around; was she really the only one interested in how that guy was not leaving that girl alone? Why don't people care?... Why did she?...
With a sigh, Sveta picked up her drink, and walked over to the pair of them.

"Julie!" she smiled a bright smile at the girl "I have been waiting for you forever! Did you not see me?" she chattered, grabbing the girl by the arm and all but pulling her off the chair "Come on, we have so much to talk about!"

The guy stared; he did not look happy that Sveta was interfering with his hunt. Sveta smiled at him too.

"Get lost, you stupid, ugly son of a ***" she said in elegant Russian, and waved at him before she walked away with the girl. So far, so good.

>> "Julie! I have been waiting for you forever! Did you not see me?"

An unfamiliar, accented voice rang out from a seat further along the bar table just as Lydia was tightening her grip on her glass. She had actually been considering chucking the contents of it at the man. For real, that was how annoying he was getting. The woman with the accent approached her and grabber her, hauling her off her seat. Lyd nearly spilled her drink as she was forced to follow this woman.

>> "Come on, we have so much to talk about!"

“We do? I—I mean, oh yeah! Uh, um, Saaa--Sasha! Hah, uh, how nice to see you again!” What, she never said she was a good actor. She stuck her tongue out at the creep, who was aiming a dirty look at the skin-shifter’s savior. She would’ve shot him something else, but both of her hands were unfortunately occupied. The woman said something to the man in a foreign language and led Dia away.

Somehow, the skin-shifter doubted that what she had said was nice.

When the pair got further away from the bar table, Lydia couldn’t help but blurt out, “Holy crap, you’re gorgeous!” Smooth. That’s the first thing you say to the lady who rescued you from certain skeevy doom? “Ah, I mean, thanks for the save. I owe you one.”

>>“We do? I—I mean, oh yeah! Uh, um, Saaa--Sasha! Hah, uh, how nice to see you again!.. Holy crap, you’re gorgeous!.. Ah, I mean, thanks for the save. I owe you one.”

Sveta smirked as she dragged her newfound friend 'Julie' away from the bar and into the back room where she managed to find a free booth, away from the eyes of the creeper.

"Sasha is a boy's name" she grinned as she sat down "But you are welcome. My name is Svetlana" she added "You can call me Sveta."

The girl did not stand so steady on her feet; one reason more why she should not be hanging around creeps. She looked like a smart girl, but alcohol made anyone vulnerable. Even Sveta, when she drank.

"Guys like dat one always find me" she pouted "It is good to have someone to the rescue. Cheers."

>> "Sasha is a boy's name. But you are welcome. My name is Svetlana. You can call me Sveta.”

“Ah, a boy’s name…? Sorry I just thought of the first name that came to my head. Obviously you’re not a boy… Err, anyhow, it’s nice to meet you Sveta! My name’s Lydia,” The skin-shifter replied as she sat down at the booth the blonde woman—well actually, she didn’t look that much older than the eighteen-year-old herself—found. She stuck her hand out for a handshake before internally recoiling. A handshake? How lame are you But it was too late for her to put her hand down, that would be even weirder. Obviously Lyd wasn’t wholly commonsensical at the moment.

>> "Guys like dat one always find me. It is good to have someone to the rescue. Cheers.”

She nodded, understanding what Sveta meant. “Cheers,” Dia said, raising her glass and taking a sip from it, “Yeah, that’s not the first time a guy like that’s approached me. Ugh, so rude right?” God, this girl really is so pretty! She looks like a model, she thought, careful not to stare.

“Anyways, where’re you from? I take it from your accent that you’re not a native New Yorker.”

>>“Ah, a boy’s name…? Sorry I just thought of the first name that came to my head. Obviously you’re not a boy… Err, anyhow, it’s nice to meet you Sveta! My name’s Lydia,”

"Nice to meet you Lydia" Sveta smiled, shaking the hand thas offered, even though the girl did not seem sure about that. Sveta was wearing stain gloves, as always.

>>“Yeah, that’s not the first time a guy like that’s approached me. Ugh, so rude right? Anyways, where’re you from? I take it from your accent that you’re not a native New Yorker.”

"No I am not" Sveta chuckled "I am from Russia. I come here about... a year ago."

Had it really been so long? It seemed like only a few days. A few days filled with adventures...

"... guys are de same dere too. Maybe a little bit worse." she added with a grin.

Thankfully, Sveta received the handshake well and didn’t seem to think Lydia was a complete dork. “I like your gloves,” the skin-shifter complimented after they let go. She felt like she owed the blonde woman something for saving her, and normally she would repay with a round of drinks on her, but the skeeve was still sitting at the bar table, and the waiter was nowhere to be found.

>> “No I am not. I am from Russia. I come here about... a year ago... guys are de same dere too. Maybe a little bit worse.”

She chuckled, “Hah, I dunno. American guys can be pretty bad too...Maybe it’s just some weird genetic thing males have. Being jerks are in their genes,” Speaking of genes, this woman probably didn’t know that Lyd was a mutant. What if she has a problem with people like me…? She would hate to have to lose a potential friend because of genetic prejudices. It would be a waste of good looks and an otherwise kind personality.

“Erm, anyways, wow, your English is really good for only being here that long. Did you learn some in Russia?”

>>“I like your gloves,”

"Thanks" Sveta said very politely. She liked the gloves too. They were comfortable and pretty, which rarely ever went together in the case of female clothing items. But she needed them to be, because she only took them off when she went to sleep.

>>“Hah, I dunno. American guys can be pretty bad too...Maybe it’s just some weird genetic thing males have. Being jerks are in their genes,”

"You are probably right." Sveta agreed, sipping her drink. All right, so she knew a few guys who were all right - those were the ones who did not try to hit on her. Maybe it wasn't the genes. Maybe it was the situation.

>>“Erm, anyways, wow, your English is really good for only being here that long. Did you learn some in Russia?”

"Yes, I did" she smiled a bit "In school, and den I had a private teacher. It is not that hard to learn. Just the pronounciation." she added with a smirk "But people understand me, that's good enough. And they even seem to like de accent."

>> “Yes, I did. In school, and den I had a private teacher. It is not that hard to learn. Just the pronunciation. But people understand me, that's good enough. And they even seem to like de accent."

“I bet they do. Your accent is really interesting,” Lydia said, “I bet that’s why you get all those guys hitting on you too. They think it’s exotic.” She added the last part in with a cheeky grin (like she hadn’t been smiling like a fool already). “I wish I spoke more than one language. I mean, I know a little French but that’s it.” She supposed she would know more French if she went to school regularly, but academics was such a waste of time. Dia would rather be out having fun than stuck in some boring classroom with an obnoxious teacher squawking at you about verb conjugations.

“So why’d you move here?” The skin-shifter asked, taking another sip from her drink. Now that she’d said it, however, she realized she probably shouldn’t have. When one asks for information, one usually has to give back some as well.

Lyd did not want to share why she was still in New York, why she was alone sulking in a bar on a Friday night. Sob stories were not fun. “Ah, I mean, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t feel comfortable.” Because I sure don’t.

>>“I bet they do. Your accent is really interesting. I bet that’s why you get all those guys hitting on you too. They think it’s exotic. I wish I spoke more than one language. I mean, I know a little French but that’s it.”

"For Americans, everything foreign is exotic" Sveta chuckled at her "No offense."
It probably did explain the guys. The ones who were not drawn to single blonde women with nice faces and boobs, anyway.

>>“So why’d you move here? Ah, I mean, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Sveta chuckled, and sipped her drink. "I came here to get married to a filthy rich guy, become an American citizen, and live happy ever after." she summarized with a wicked grin.
Really, it was the truth. But when one said it like that, it did not sound pathetic at all.It sounded like some of the movies the Americans liked so much. About independent women, and whatnot.

Lydia gave a small chuckle when Sveta mentioned Americans finding everything foreign exotic. “Hey I won’t argue with you there. Accents can do wonders.” And she’d fallen for her fair share of foreign guys. There was one time when a flock of cute, male French exchange students came to her school to visit. The skin-shifter had never wanted to go to school so badly in her life, and learning French became so much more appealing. Her teachers had actually started to remember her name by the time the adorable French kissers boys went back home.

>> "I came here to get married to a filthy rich guy, become an American citizen, and live happy ever after.”

“For real?” She almost spit her drink out. “That’s…that’s kind of cool,” Lyd said meekly, unsure of how to respond to Sveta’s grin. It sort of betrayed the seriousness or validity of her words. The story seemed pretty far-fetched, and the other girl didn't look that much older than Lydia at all. “Wait…are you being serious?”

>>“For real? That’s…that’s kind of cool. Wait…are you being serious?”

Sveta smirked. She couldn't really blame the girl for doubting her words. Not many mail order brides were so open about their origins...

"Yes" she nodded "I am being serious. I did not marry him dough." she added with another smirk, sipping her drink "I come here, and it turns out he is not rich at all, plus, he was sixteen years old. So. here I am." she looked around. Sitting in a bar chatting, drinking - good times. It was not all that tragic.

"He was sweet, but, not my type." she smiled "So I stay around."

It was probably enough to say for now.

"Your turn." she smiled at Lydia.

>> “Yes. I am being serious. I did not marry him dough. I come here, and it turns out he is not rich at all, plus, he was sixteen years old. So. Here I am. He was sweet, but, not my type. So I stay around.”

Holy crap. This is a true story? Lydia almost said her thoughts out loud, but decided it would be impolite to word them like that. “That’s…wow. That’s definitely not something you hear every day,” she finally replied, hoping that she didn’t sound rude or offensive to the blonde, “So basically you got tricked—er, I guess that’s not a good word to use.” Not if Sveta didn’t seem to have any hard feelings toward the sixteen-year-old.

“Uh, I mean if this all happened a year ago, I guess I can see why you’re okay with everything now. That’s good,” she continued, mirroring the other girl’s smile. It didn’t sound like the Russian had quite the “happily ever after” like she had mentioned before, but it did sound like she was happy, or at least content, with her situation.

>> "Your turn.”

“M—my turn?” Lydia answered shakily. She paused for a moment, downing the remains of her glass. “Er, how about another round? My treat.” She didn’t even wait for Sveta’s reply as she got up and walked over to the bar table. The man who had been harassing her earlier was already stalking new prey, some red-head who looked like she was getting ready to punch something. Hopefully if she did, her target would be the sleazeball’s face.

As she neared the bartender she realized she had no idea what the blonde was drinking. The skin-shifter spun around and walked dejectedly back to their table, unsure of how to escape her current predicament. She knew that if she started talking about recent events, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She knew that all of the pent up sorrow, frustration, and fear would completely claw their way out of her if she gave them even the slightest opening. She didn’t want to think about all of the crap going on in her life, she didn’t want to share. Lydia had come to the bar with the intention of drowning out all of her emotions.

“Uh so…what’re you drinking, by the way?” She asked, feeling extremely foolish, but with a silly tone. She wanted to keep things light-hearted. “I guess next time I should ask before rushing off.”