Open Starter She was at the club for one thing, to test her tolerance for alcohol and to forget any and all recent events. The Inhuman metabolism was high, Liss knew that much but she had never really had a need to test the limits to which she could push the balance of tipsy and intoxicated beyond repair, tonight however she was balancing closely on the edge of the very dangerous cliff. As she danced, the redhead found herself losing her inhibitions, not noticing the way her hair fell a foot longer as she let her emotions truly loose for the first time in so long. The curls bounced as she spun, drink in hand, in the middle of the sea of bodies. She had no idea what the song was, nor did she even care at this point, Liss was, for the first time since she had been exposed to the terrigen, free and without a care in the world. If she had been less intoxicated perhaps the young girl wouldn’t have been dancing alone in a club she barely knew, but instead she pressed up against the nearest body, what could only be described as a giggle leaving her lips as she sipped the cocktail through its straw and danced against the warmth of another person.
He’s been there for only fifteen minutes, but it’s still just as exciting as ever. The music is booming, and almost anything in a mile radius is vibrating along with it, as if trying to match the tempo. It’s a bizarre idea, but Shatterstar wonders if maybe he can literally become one with the music by simply standing on the bright, multicolored dancefloor tiles. Why not give it a try?
Okay, so that doesn’t really work. But learning experiences, right?
Other people are doing these weird--movements?--around the floor, hooting and hollering with their friends who came along. And, boy, does that make the poor kid wish he wasn’t all alone in a strange building with strange people. But socializing is a good thing to do, apparently, and in the unlikely event that everyone he formerly knew dropped dead, at least he’d have another human being to trust.
It’s not until someone hits into him that Shatterstar cares to look over, completely forgetting that he was, infact, still on the floor, not really doing much but thinking over some unnecessary stuff. The first thing he notices about her is the hair. So long and exuberantly beautiful, it’s like he can’t look away. The color is basically an improved version of his, and completely well-kept. Did she mean to touch him? Normally, the answer was no.
“Sorry,” it’s a half-hearted apology, but mainly because she had hit into him, not the other way around. “I’d offer you a drink, but that has probably already happened considering the circumstances.”
