a child weaned  on poison  considers harm  a  comfort  ââ  isnât  that  what  stella  had read  ?  the  phrase  struck  a  bit too  close  to  home,  mentally  referring back  to  it  every  time  her  instinct  to run  started  to  rear  its  ugly  head.  chicago is  starting  to  feel  dangerously  small,  and  if she  doesnât  do  SOMETHING,  the  songstress  is  liable to  self  destruct  at  momentâs  notice.  skyfall  felt  too familiar,  too  suffocating, enclosed  quarters  where  the  usuals would  hound  her  for  a  private  show  ⊠ no,  she  needed  to dissolve  into  oblivion,  and  what  better  place  than  a  club  where nobody  knows  you  ?
 stellaâs already  indulged in  some  pretty  white powder  in  the  bathroom, dabbing  at  her  nose  as  she traipses  into  the  revelry  ââ  she  can  feel  the  burn  in  her  lungs, a  signal  that  her  mischief  is  only  just beginning.  two  shots  down  at  the  bar,  and sheâs  not  looking  to  slow  down  anytime  soon. chicago  knows  the  cool,  collected  songbird  that speaks  in  riddles  and  leaves  lipstick  kisses  on  the collar  of  their  button  downs.  tonight  ?  that  image  ceases to  exist.  she  wants  to  erupt,  dynamite  jolting  through  her  veins. and  it  seems  a  familiar  blonde  with  a  wickedly  delicious  smirk  harbors similar  prospects.Â
 â ââ so  long as  you  donât go  soft  on  me, sugar,  â  comes  her purring  response,  accentuated by  another  round  of  shots  lofted towards  them  ââ  one  of  the  drinks proffered  towards  the  svelte  blonde.  â  iâve heard  some  tricky  rumors  about  you.  word  on  the street  is  that  youâre  quite  a  bit  of  trouble.  â  with that,  stella  knocks  her  glass  against  monikaâs  and  offers a  coy  wink,  â  letâs  hope  every  word  of  it  is  true.  â
These days it required copious amounts of alcohol to get Monika anywhere close to inebriated. Though presently, she was rather buzzed; feeding off of the electric energy pulsating around her, vibrating within her body and pumping adrenaline through her bloodstream. There has always been an element of the blonde that yearned for an escape. As far as she can recall, she'd always longed to crawl out of her skin and into anybody else's; the desire to exist outside the realm of her own reality almost overwhelming. A few shots of the strongest liquor or a snort of snowy white powder usually did the trick, allowing the female to slink out of her inhibitions and lose herself for the night. Monika had never been one to see the sense behind holding back in life. What was the point in being alive if you only ever played it safe? Sure, the blonde had her regrets, likewise, she had her vices but nobody could say Monika Adler played life safe. The female would sooner die than have people say she shied away from any of the dangers life held.
The brunette's words had the smirk broadening across Monika's lips. âI wouldn't dream of it, doll,â she responded, cherry lips splitting into a grin. Stella had always been one of the rare souls that managed to capture Monika's interest. The blonde respected the songstress, admired her in the way that only another woman could. The brunette's lack of consideration for the opinions of others, most especially men, was a characteristic Monika appreciated. In some ways, she could see herself in the other female and although she'd never spent too much time in Stella's company, Monika had the slightest of inklings the pair would get on like a house on fire. Extending a willowy appendage, blood-red tipped fingers slid around the shot glass the other offered. âOh, you have, have you?â The blonde gazed at the woman perched next to her, azure eyes narrowing with a hum of reflection echoing inside her throat. âI hope they've painted the most wicked pictures of me,â she remarked, a devilish smirk curling at the edge of her mouth.
With a soft laugh tumbling from her lips, Monika reciprocated the action; clinking her glass against Stella's. âWell, you only have the entire night to decide if you concur with these rumours or not.â Her sapphires shone with the glimmering promise that she intended to meet the expectations that had been placed upon her. Though, already, Monika had the sneaking suspicion that her current company might just be a little bit of hurricane herself. Her head was falling back then, downing the contents of her glass before discarding it. Swallowing against the burn that slid the length of her throat, Monika's attention was back to Stella. âCan you believe we've yet to wreak any havoc together? What a crime that is.â
