location: quasar nightclub
date: 19 june 2060
time: 1:06 AM
@deimosnox
tw; for swears and slurs (although it is not really a slur per say it is being used as one in context so...)
She’d been dancing for hours already, and she’d been drinking there for longer, having blown off her waitressing gig at the cocktail bar at about 8:30 in favor of getting drunk herself. She could only serve so many sneering high-class types their alien-themed martinis and rum punches before she wanted to do some punching herself. And all of the incessant gossip about the new inter-species council coming to Roswell was enough to nauseate her. She’d spent enough time with the elite of this planet during her childhood to know there was no cooperating. With the exception of the small group her parents interacted with, no one wanted to integrate. And listening to them placate her parents with reassurances that peace could be achieved put more than just a bitter taste in her mouth these days, it stoked the fire in her heart. She wanted to laugh in their faces, and break all their fancy champagne flutes and then ask them how cooperative they were feeling.
In any case, she was not in the mood to deal with any more discussion tonight. So when she pulled herself off the dance floor, drenched in sweat and made her way to the bar to get a drink, she wasn’t prepared to deal with some drunk asshole swaggering towards her, sloshing his pink drink everywhere with an almost predatory smile on his too-thin lips. “Hey sweetheart,” he slurred, and eyed her up and down. She didn’t like this guy already, and she wore her disdain openly on her face as she ignored him in favor of ordering another gin and nectar for herself. Unfortunately, this did nothing to discourage him. “So uh... what are you?”
Turning on her heel, she tried to level him with the force of her glare. “Excuse me?”
“You’re an alien,” he laughed, and then stepped in too close and reached for her hair. “I can smell it on you, baby. So where you from? Tau E? Proxima?” His finger stroked down her cheek, and he was so close she could smell the six other drinks he’d had on his breath already. She cringed away from him and put her hand over his face to forcefully push him away. He spilled his stupid drink on his clothes, and she felt a little satisfaction at that.
“Get off, fuck you’re disgusting! Leave me alone, douchelord!” she spit. He didn’t take kindly to that and stepped closer again, sloshing even more of his drink on her clumsily as he yelled in her face.
“You fucking Martian bitch! You’re gonna fucking pay for that!” Quorra just smirked in return and butted forehead against his solidly.
“Yeah, you gonna back that up, alien fucker?”
...She probably shouldn’t have called him that, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, even as she saw his fist pulling backward...
