Drinking!

[motherfucked]

Who: Jessica Jones and whoever shows!
Where: An only semi-sketchy bar.
When: Evening! Whenever it's convenient in continuity for your character.
Warnings: Drinking?
Summary: An open bar log with Jessica Jones.
Format: I start with paragraphs, but quicklog responses are more than welcome.

Jessica didn't like to repeat herself. Not when she was telling people to hold the mayo, not when she was telling Carol Danvers to shut up, not when someone asked her why she'd quit being a superhero for like the billionth time. And not with bars. The thing is, if you show up at a bar, people will talk to you. If it's not creepy men or drunk bachelorettes, it's the person behind the counter. They're paid to be friendly, because maybe no one wants to drink alone, these days. And if you keep going to the same bar, they start to recognize you. And they might notice that hey, you come here a lot, and hey, this is the second time you've had that much vodka before seven o' clock this week and hey maybe it would be best if you just slowed down and Jessica hated having to repeat herself.

So, new show. It's not like even in crazy alternate realities New York was short on bars. This one was kind of nice. Dark, but the bathroom was clean and didn't smell like anything besides air freshener. Jessica sat at one of the stools and put her head down.

Comments

[viced]

So after being thwapped in the head by a very old woman's very large purse for inquiring into her political situation, Mitch wasn't exactly in the best of moods. No, fuck that, he was in a very shitty mood. He'd decided to try a bar, and poked his head into this one, before shrugging at the lack of a reeking scent, and shuffled his way to the bar.

About halfway into his glass of beer did he notice that on the other side of the bar was a familiar face.

Well, at least he hopefully wouldn't have to look like an Alcoholic by drinking alone.

He made his way over, plopping the glass down and taking the seat next to her.

[motherfucked]

"Shit, you go here?"

That was maybe not what she should have said, but it was what Jessica did say. It was too early in the night for her to have called Mitch without remembering, right?

[viced]

He shrugged in response. "Not really, just got nicked in the head by some old lady with a brick in her purse, and drinking sounded like a really good fucking idea."

Hey, it beat him being called creepy.

[motherfucked]

"Wait, you got beat up by an old lady?" She desperately wanted to hear this story.

[viced]

"I wasn't going to hit her back!" He drank down the last of his alcohol, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's like committing Political Suicide."

[motherfucked]

"No. But you thought it hurt." She pointed a finger at him and picked up her glass with her free hand. "It's driven you into a life of drink."

[viced]

"So now a beer is a life of drink?" he asked, even as he tipped a finger in the direction of the bartender, his other hand moving up to pull his tie lose. He hated the damn things.

"I'm pretty sure losing half of my face did that part."

[motherfucked]

"No. Totally the old lady. I'm an expert."

Jessica didn't like to think of what drove her to a life of drink. Fuck, that was why she was drinking.

[viced]

"Did you cut one off in traffic one day or something? Maybe flew in front of her car?"

Mitch's coping mechanism for what happened to him wasn't booze, it was the better drug, but he was pretty sure Jessica had figured that one out already.

[motherfucked]

"No, I've never been beat up by an old lady. I am not a fucking wimp. But you kinda are." She smiled to show she was joking. But also seriously, and old lady? Least macho bar story ever.

"And your face doesn't look like half of it got lost."

[viced]

"Plastic surgery. Surprisingly, it's not just tummy tucks and botox." It also wasn't something he often went into. "Trust me, this is a fucking huge improvement," he tapped the side of his face.

[motherfucked]

"Oh wow," she said, jaw dropping down. "Did it hurt?" Of course it fucking hurt, Jessica, but stupid questions had a way of leaving her mouth without permission.

[viced]

"After the accident," or as Kremlin would call it, his 'rebirth' or whatever, "that was nothing. I was out for most of it, and my face was already hurting," he explained.

Okay, so he didn't call her out on the stupid question. He could be nice. Sometimes.

[motherfucked]

She knew it was a stupid question, she was just— worried, you know? Which is dumb because the whole thing was over and done with. But concern. It'll make you look like an ass, sometimes.

"I guess they had to do some on me, too. But I was in a coma so I don't remember anything."

[viced]

"Horrific accidents," he muttered, and his drink came just in time. He took a long drag of it. "Don't you love them?" Always potentially traumatizing, and more often than not the origin story.

Not that he did that anymore. Ever. But he couldn't deny his powers any more than he could deny that he was human, or that he didn't want to make the world a better place.

[motherfucked]

"No. No, I really fucking don't." Jessica didn't like being in a coma, even though that was what her body seemed to want, a distressing amount of the time. And waking up? Waking up sucks. Everyone who'd heard an alarm clock go off on Monday morning knew that. And the longer you were asleep, the harder it was to do.

[viced]

"Yeah, you wake up and the world changed, and your heart monitor is excitedly talking to you about how you're finally awake and maybe it can go off and be hooked up to someone who needs help now," he muttered.