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Welcome back, Verdy. <3 She seems delightful.

Even the drastically-mutated needed to go shopping, every once in a while. Even if the sight of an enormous shrimp-lady hunched over a tiny, plastic red shopping cart was garrish and laughable, it wasn't entirely unheard of. Even Jack had to get such fixings of life, like toilet paper and body soap.

She was in her usual garb-- cargo shorts, tank top, hoodie. The decorative chains on her pants clanged as she walked. Having nowhere to be, and no urge to rush home, she was making liesurely loops down various aisles, looking for items that she absolutely needed. Jack rounded the corner onto the liquor aisle, continuing forward without giving the blue-eyed young man more than a cursory glance. More attention was given to his cart. That was a f--kton of beer. He must have been in a rough spot in his life.

Jack didn't give "the drink" much thought, outside of Looking Glass or Chrysalis. She'd seen too many drunks, and even dealt with a fair number of alcohol poisonings. Plus, at her size, it took too goddamn much alcohol to get her drunk enough to be worth her while, and booze was expensive. She didn't make enough for that kind of lifestyle.

The young woman was so distracted by her own inner musings about drunkards, she neglected to keep a firm grasp on her shopping cart, which careened straight into the display of plastic sample-sized bottles. The collision was enough to dislodge one of the shelves and sent most of the bottles clattering to the tiled floor.

Jack swore and maneuvered her cart out of the way. She couldn't just leave the bottles there. Not with that alcoholic watching her. The prawn sank on her hanches and began to clean-up the bottles, the enormity of her primary hands making it a very slow process.

>> "Sure."

A look of relief flitted through her expression. Tension that Jack hadn't known was there released from her jaw, and the corner of her eyes pinched in a faint smile. Concern still lingered in her brow. The prawn withdrew her phone This woman was handling the inconvenience of a spilled drink more casually than most. Thank God for small favors.

>> "My name is Maya, by the way. Uh... nice bumping into you? I've never been to this place before, I thought I'd check it out."

Jack bobbed her head, almost like a bow, when the woman introduced herself. Maya. Pretty name. And a someone new to the club. Jack exhaled. Spilling on a new visitor. Nice. Ten points for fantastic first
impressions.

"Sssorry," Jack chittered, shaking her head as she typed hurriedly. She finished her message, and extended the phone out again, inclining her head. Hopefully the young woman's next visit, if she returned, was less... eventful than this one.

<<Jack,>> the prawn wrote, <<Short for Jacquelyn. Some people here call me Chief, too.>> Well, everyone called her Chief, but Maya would come to realize that, if she stuck around long enough. <<Welcome to Chrysalis.>>

The sound of approaching footsteps snagged her attention, and the young woman opened her eyes. Her head was rested on the palm of her hand, supported by a single elbow on the countertop. The individual that approached seemed quite draconic. A few more limbs than most, all clawed. Horns. Orange. It took her a moment to find his eyes... er, eye... which rested at the end of what Jack had expected to be his snout.

Jack politely looked away as the enormous mutant sat beside her, shifting her her weight slightly. This guy was huge-- which said something, given Jack's seven-and-a-half foot stature.

>> "Uh, hi...Sorry if I'm bothering you, it's been a while since I've been out and well...I'm Victor, nice to meet you."

Jack arched her brow, causing the scales above both eyes to raise. How unexpected. This guy-- despite his impressive stature and extensive mutation-- spoke like a timid teenager. Or, perhaps it was because of his stature and appearance. Jack hummed, her maxillae twitching. Even if she was off-put by his shyness, she wasn't going to be a jerk to him. Freaks had to stick together. The prawn dislodged her three-fingered hand from its place beneath her chin, clasping Victor's hand in a firm handshake.

"Jacquelyn," the prawn replied. She breathed in frustration, and quickly fished for the phone in her pocket. She could already feel the clumsiness of speech in her mouth, the joint powers of physiology and alcohol pushing her pronunciation into incomprehensible territories. She drew the phone out which, although massive, was dwarfed by her hands. With well-practiced accuracy, she typed a message, then held it up for Victor to survey.

<< It's a pleasure, Victor. I'm Jacquelyn, but I prefer Jack. Is it your first time here? >>

Accompanying the text was the robotic lilt of a female, faintly British voice wafting from the speakers. It was barely audible over the music, however, hence why Jack showed him the screen. The corner of her lavender eyes pinched. Perhaps it was the whiskey that ran through her system, or perhaps it was the ambiance. Perhaps it was the company of another freak-- but Jack was feeling slightly more sociable than usual.

>> “Hey.”

Jack chittered nervously, sinking on her haunches so that her eyes were level with the young woman’s. Spilling a drink onto a patron, real friggin’ smooth. Anxious hands adjusted a tie that was already tight enough.

>> "Uh... sorry. I mean, 'tis okay. I was not looking where I was going. Um... you work here?"

The chittering quieted and Jack gave two, quick nods of acknowledgement.

“Yeah,” she acknowledged, “I- uh-“

She could feel the mandibles shifting awkwardly, turning over words that were too difficult for her mouth to articulate. “Work” and “bouncer” and “buy another drink”.

“Uuuhhh-“ The bouncer glanced to a nearby table, fully processing that she’d caused this woman to spill her drink, and wrapped her hand around a napkin dispenser. The prawn pulled-out a half-dozen napkins, offering the mound of paper to the young woman. The dispenser was set aside, but close enough to reach.

With her other hand, the prawn pulled-out her oversized smartphone, which was dwarfed by her massive hands, and started tapping away furiously, jotting a message to the young woman.

She presented the message much in the same way that she presented the napkins, flashing the screen awkwardly towards the young woman.

<< I am a bouncer here,>> the message read, <<No need to apologize. I wasn’t watching my feet. Very sorry about the mess. Please allow me to buy you another drink?>>

And, for the love of god, Jack prayed, don’t tell my boss. She swallowed hard, lavender eyes pointedly looking everywhere but at the young woman in front of her. Perhaps her expression could be interpreted as begrudging or sulking, but in all honesty, Jack was trying to swallow the mounting embarrassment that roiled up in her throat.

Jack caught her eyes un-focusing and shook her head, snapping her attention back to the dance floor. It wouldn't be good if she fell asleep during the shift. The prawn shook her head and dislodged her massive shoulders from their resting spot upon the wall. Even if it was a slow night, it wouldn't reflect well on her if she spontaneously dozed-off. Jack crossed in front of the DJ'ing booth, which stood on its own raised platform. She nodded to the DJ as she passed, and he nodded back. The bouncer continued her round.

One would think that, as a rather tall individual who was frequently supervising large crowds of individuals that were shorter than her, Jack would be more diligent about watching where she was going. This was decidedly not the case. Had she been more vigilant, she would not have bumped into the young woman who was hastily removing herself into the bar. Jack fumbled past, doing a few wobbly steps to recover, as she looked back at the woman she had tripped over.

"S-sorry," the apology hissed through the surgical mask, barely loud enough to hear. Despite the outward composure she maintained, she could feel the heat creeping into the flesh beneath her carapace. Real f---ing smooth, twinkle toes, she chided herself. Concerned lavender eyes swept over the young woman, assessing any potential damage that the prawn's careless feet might have caused.

The neon-lit sign was a beacon to those looking for a night of debauchery. “Chrysalis” hung over the glass front doors, in a cursive font and back-lit in in an ever-changing spectrum of rainbows. Despite the fact that it was a weeknight, the low untz, untz, untz of the bass wafted through the walls and onto the streets, down a short line of a motley collection of patrons. Monday nights were always slow. Rather than a shoulder-to-shoulder see of undulating bodies, groups stood in loose circles, some shouting over the pulsating rhythm in conversations over drinks, others entirely lost in dancing. Jack sat to the side, lavender eyes skimming the page in spite of the low-light filtering down onto the bar. One of the perks of night vision—reading in the dark.

Jack checked her watch and hummed. Fifteen minutes. She made note of the page number and snapped the book shut. On busy nights, there was no reading-time—Jack was stationed at one fringe of the main dance floor, orbiting out of necessity. On slow nights, she merely circled the room to keep her legs from going numb. She hoisted herself out of the chair and strode from the bar, starting on her loop.

As soon as she was on to the dance floor, a young woman leaned against the wall, smirking devilishly, “’ey, Chief, buy me a drink?!”

Jack raised a hand to her chin, curling one finger beneath the surgical mask as if seriously contemplating the inquiry. The bottoms of her eyes pinched in mild humor. The woman was one of the regulars, a petite thing who was always accompanied by what appeared to be shadow-sprites. Once one got past the creepiness of her mutation, she was actually quite the charmer. To say the least, this woman had no shortness of people to buy her drinks. Chief flapped her hand dismissively, a rumbling laugh rolling from her as she stepped around the young woman.

“Aw, jefe, come on!” the woman pouted playfully, tossing a lock of ebony hair over her shoulder.

“Later, later,” Chief said, only half-serious as she continued onward. Too many female patrons, assuming the suit and tie to be an indication her gender, tried to sucker Jack into buying them drinks. On rare occasions, she yielded, but only when spontaneous benevolent spells struck her. Jack found her favorite spot on the wall and leaned her shoulder against it, gaze trailing over the dance floor, watching the dancers move.