The Phoenix

Was she really - oh, for the love of… Will groaned and met her gaze. He really didn’t want to start a fight, and not when his status was not exactly legal or however the hell Wonderland considered Wanderers, but she was starting to annoy him. A lot.

“Clearly about as much as you do,” he ground out under his breath. “I’m not in your space! And I wasn’t before. Really, if it’s bothering you that much, I’ll just leave. No need to make a scene.”

“I’m making a scene now?” she asked, her voice getting higher with her blood pressure. This guy had to be stupid if he was testing a pixie’s temper. She could already feel her palms heating up, and so she balled her hands into fists to try to stifle the flames.

“So leave then,” she said, stepping right up to him and giving him a solid shove with her arm.

Oh. Well, that answered his question: probably drunk and rude. Willem wasn’t in the mood to deal with something like this, especially not when he’d rather be on his way to tipsy right now - a bad decision, sure, but maybe he needed a bad decision every now and then since he had no way of getting home, no way of helping him and his sister, and no good way of staying out of peoples’ way apparently.

He turned as well, giving her his best bored expression, though he was really trying not to snap back at this stranger. “A threat? If I wanted to threaten you, I’d at least do a better job than saying ‘oh, I’m not in your way’.” He sighed. “Look, I’m just saying, there’s more than enough room here.”

Fiona purposely ignored the little bit of reason in his statement before the end. All she heard was Look, there’s more than enough room here. And to her, those sounded like fighting words. 

“I just fucking said there wasn’t,” she said as she stood up beside him, sure to get well into his own space now. “What do you not understand about a personal fucking bubble?”

Willem blinked in surprise, realizing he was the one being spoken to, and resisted the childish urge to glance behind him just in case he was wrong. He hadn’t really intended to come out to the bar anyway, just wanted some fresh air from the mess going on, but he knew when he needed a drink and right now… Well, he needed something.

He wasn’t sure if this stranger was drunk or just rude, though. “Oh. Um, well, I’m not exactly in your way, am I?” Will gestured to the space between them. “I’m not on top of you or anything. No offense.”

Wow, Fiona thought. This kid was trying to get on her nerves, wasn’t he?

Tipsy Fiona was probably the worst stage to come across, because she was just relaxed enough that she didn’t feel the need to control herself and she was still sober enough that she was still very on edge. She was so used to people talking down to her from when she was just an orphaned pixie, that in these moments he often assumed it was still the case. Thus, she was probably going to take it out on this kid regardless.

“Is that a fucking threat or something?” she asked as she turned completely to face him.

     tamar had to giggle— or maybe it came out more of      a snicker. she gave fiona’s arm a slight squeeze,      letting her know that she knew exactly what she meant.       “well, if it’s my short legs slowing you down, you don’t      have to worry about it tonight— see?” tamar kicked up      a foot, showing off her fancy, blocky heels. “not-so-short      legs anymore.”

     a passing tray of hors d’oeuvres passed by, and tamar      snagged two little…somethings off the tray. “open up,      tipsy-toes,” she commanded, waving the tidbit in front      of fiona’s face. “let’s not waste free food.”

“Oof.” As Tamar kicked up her leg, Fiona reached down and gave it a little squeeze, for no other reason than it was there and she was looking at it. “I would die for those shoes. Great choice.”

Fiona practically jumped out of her own shoes when food was held in front of her. She went right for the bite, giving no concern for Tamar’s fingers in the process. 

“Tipsy-toes,” she mumbled as she chewed. “That’s fucking brilliant.”

     this time, tamar stifled her cackle, sucking on a tooth but      smirking all the same. tucking her own hand around fiona’s      elbow  ( like a gentleman and his lady might )  tamar graciously      let the moments past slide. no harm done— yet, anyways.       “mind having me along for a few minutes, or am i only going to      slow you down?” she cooed, batting her lashes up at fiona playfully.

Sober Fiona might have played into Tamar’s little sweet act, but drunk Fiona was in a mood and looked right past it. She patted the girl’s hand and spoke as if being the utmost sincere.

“Bitch, you always slow me down... But fine. I’ll tol-erate it.”

Her statement ended like a question, but was clearly more of a demand. She was not known for being the personable type exactly. At least, not when she was still on her first drink. And this chick had a long way to go before she was intoxicated enough to be friendly.

Musetta took a sip of some specially made drink she stole from someone else, and her face contorted in surprise and disgust. “Well, I just found out what alcohol tastes like,” Musetta said to the stranger that had suddenly approached her. “And I’m finding out how much everyone pays for their outfits, so that’s two things.”

“That sounds like some reaaaal interesting shit,” she said, already reaching for the girl’s drink and taking a huge sip herself since clearly the other girl wasn’t into it. 

“Not bad... I’m definitely going to need to get drunker if I’m going to enjoy this bullshit show, though.”

          tamar snorted, hardly believing her good luck.           she was stone-cold sober, and this was going           to be, altogether, far too much fun. not to mention           the blackmail material she could tease fiona with           for at least a month. she patted the hand clamped           at her bicep, her tone nearly condescending. “you’re           only holding one arm, love, not three.”

Fiona looked between Tamar’s arm and then back to her face a good few times before she straightened up, pretended to dust herself off, and shrugged.

“Nobody said I was going to have to do fucking math here, alright? I’m good... I’m good. You’re good. We’re all good. Just... Shh....”

          “you need your eyes checked, babe—           there’s only one of me.” a brow arched over           tamar’s near-impossibly green eyes. “unless           you’ve had more than enough to drink?”

A cackle left her lips as she held up her cocktail, tapping the glass to her temple in a knowing gesture and possibly a toast? She grabbed the girl’s arm with her other hand to keep herself upright as challenged the girl’s words.

 “Bitch, please. Are you trying to tell me you’re not triplets?”