90s queen.

That was certainly an impressionable introduction. Marguerite merely raised an eyebrow and eyed the other suspiciously. “Bourbon.” She answered and emptied her glass quickly before ordering another from the bartender. “I am sure you can buy one yourself, if that’s what you’re after, darling.” Today was not the day to ask Marguerite Durand to spent money on someone other than herself. On any other day, yeah, sure, why not, but today? Today she was planning on drinking most of her money away. 

Hm. Bourbon. This woman had top of the line taste. But, of course, Morgan noticed the eyebrow raise. It was one she was used to getting from people who weren’t “like her.” Although she was 23, she felt that most people still looked at her as though she were a teenager. Maybe in a lot of ways she was, but who gave a shit? She was 23 fucking years old. She could drink and didn’t deserve an eyebrow raise. Morgan could feel herself getting defensive.

“Darling? That’s something I haven’t been called before.” she said feeling as though the word was quite patronizing. She didn’t know where all of this anger was coming from but Marguerite wasn’t making a very good first impression. Morgan pushed her hair from her face, cleared her throat and called for the bartender: “Cheapest thing you have on tap,” as she tapped the counter herself, looking at Marguerite with a slow smile on her face. 

“It’s not bourbon but maybe someone would like to introduce me eventually.”

Alec shrugs, blowing smoke towards the sky. There’s a fine line between not wanting to get too deep with someone he’s only just met and wanting to say it to someone. “Pretty sure I was, actually. I died.. in combat, they wouldn’t have wanted to report it.” His tone’s quite even though, he’d long since come to terms that his job was likely to be the death of him and that it wasn’t gonna be in the newspapers. “That’s what they did for other people, anyways.”

Because, yeah, he’d been determined to serve his country, or his ideology, or– whatever. The difference between Czechoslovakia and the other Socialist Republics and communism in general blurred a lot. Especially when one was half Russian. Waking up somewhere so foreign had shook him, but he’s reminded of a quote from the current Russian president (although, he wasn’t sure he liked the guy): those who don’t miss the Soviet Union have no heart, but those who want it back have no brain. But he’s getting trapped in his own thoughts again and that’s really not productive as far as blending in in the United States goes.

So he leans back against the wall and flashes a grin, settling into a routine that hasn’t changed since he was perfecting it in nightclubs in Prague. “Is that so?” Lame, but isn’t he always? “I’m Aleksandr– just so you don’t forget who you owe a favor.”

The girl flashed an award-winning smile, “Morgan. Morgan Garcia, at your service.” She did her best impression of a curtsey as she could, considering her foot attire.

She had listened to what Aleksandr had said about dying in combat. She wanted to probe but didn't know how to. This whole dying and coming back thing? More complicated than one might think. When was this dude from anyway? He wasn’t sporting flannel or boots like hers, ripped jeans -- nothing. Then she flicked his lighter. It looked way too old-school to just be vintage -- 

“Say, what’s the deal with this lighter?” she asked in her coy tone as she lit her cigarette.

grey showed his hands , shrugging casually as he puffed on the cigarette , “ i’d LIVE for you to join me , miss. take a few shots , tell me about yourself. “ he wasn’t an idiot , he could tell when someone was interested. he didn’t exactly want to take ADVANTAGE of the girl , but what harm would it do to lead her on a little bit in hopes of a bigger tip – right ? he flashed her a grin as he flicked ash from his cigarette , “ PERFECT , i’ll lead the way then. “ he began walking again , gesturing ahead of them as he came to her side, “ this way. “ he took another drag off his cigarette , raising his eyebrows at her as he FRENCH inhaled , “ you smoke ? “ 

Morgan settled herself into her coat as she watched and listened to him talk. He was sly. He was a weasel. She could see that but, in pure Morgan fashion, she didn’t care. This guy was hot and who was she to pretend otherwise? I mean, Jesus Christ, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his mouth as smoke billowed out of his mouth and nose at the same time. She closed her eyes slowly and nodded as though it should be obvious. “Yes. I smoke,” she reached her hand toward the park of smokes, “Do you mind if I--” she glanced up at him, only half waiting a response.

“By the way, do you think you can go head to head with me on those shots? A girl might surprise you.”

nari was walking home from the part time job she had managed to SWING. the wind was blowing and it made it twice as cold , so she sported a white fur coat. her thoughts often drifted to the people from her PAST – her mother and father , her step-family , friends. what she hadn’t expected to see on her way home ( and she had gotten used to seeing some strange things in this new era ) was her step-sister crouched against a wall SCREAMING. 

the pink haired girl was quick to swoop over to the girl , wrapping her arms around her , “ morgan ! “ there were actual TEARS in her eyes , “ hi ! hi , oh my god , are you okay ? “ she sniffled as she fought the urge to cry , leaning back to look at the girl hard in the face , “ h-how are you ? uh , how old are you now ? god , how LONG has it been ? “ she didn’t know how to begin or explain , how could she ? everyone thought she was dead , right ? surely she’d been FOUND in her bed eventually when she stopped attending class and didn’t show up for sorority events. 

Morgan continued to shake her head and repeat “no,” over and over and over again, even as Nari held her. She couldn’t possibly believe that her stepsister who had also died would be here. -- how could any of them be here?

As Nari began to ask what seemed like a million questions, Morgan pushed her away and stood up with her head in her hands. “This can’t be happening. I’m having an acid flashback or something. Something is fucked. I can’t handle this right now.” She knelt on the ground and said to herself, What if this isn’t a flashback? What if this is the real deal? Shit, I shouldn’t be here either.

Morgan stood up and turned around seeing Nari in, of course, a fur coat. Morgan instantly started laughing. Only Nari would be wearing a fur coat after dying and coming back. She pointed and laughed, about the coat, yes, but also out of sheer disbelief. 

“Answers. I think the drugs have gone to my head and I’m talking to air right now so I don’t know how I am. I’m 23 -- but should be older, I think? It’s 2018. And this decade blows.”

She looked down at her boots compared to Nari’s shoes. The two were so different, but when that girl went missing, Morgan practically lost her mind. That’s something Nari probably wouldn’t believe in a million years considering how Morgan treated her when they were both alive. After they found her stepsister’s body, life changed. Morgan had already lost her father. Her mother was two-faced and her surrogate daddy figure -- Kurt Cobain -- had killed himself. On top of it, let’s see all the torture your sister endured!

With all these thoughts running through her head, Morgan stopped and looked at Nari, knowing she was real. She basically dug her claws into the girl’s back as she held so tight. “I can’t believe I’m not alone anymore,” she sniffed, trying not to reveal tears.

“Want to hear something funny? -- I died too.” Her dark sense of humor reared its ugly head as defense mechanisms often do.

Simi raised her brows, sandwich midway stuffed in her mouth.  The thought of causing trouble and getting a drink sounded like some mess she wasn’t into, but it is 2018, and apparently it mean’t she wasn’t gonna get back those red shoes to go back home; sadly. “ Mm~ Okay, I’d love a drink. But as far as getting into trouble…today is my lame day. I’d rather get drunk and eat away my feelings while watching this funny show called The Office…” She shrugged. “ If I’m being a square now, you haven’t seen me after 5 shots”

This brown-haired girl seemed to talk through a mouth full of sandwich. Morgan didn’t know what to think or if this girl would be able to hang but she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity. ...yet.

There was mention of her wanting to eat her feelings. That must mean some serious shit was going on in that girl’s head because who wants to eat their feelings when you’ve got drugs, alcohol and a million ways to get in trouble and not get caught? That’s the path Morgan thought was more sensible. Fuck The Office -- whatever that was.

Morgan could tell the girl in front of her wanted something, otherwise she wouldn’t have said anything. If anything, Morgan told herself that this could be her chance to deflower a delicate being.

“So, about those five shots. Let’s see ‘em.”

georgie seemed to be in the right place and the right time. sure, she was still trying to get used to everything. she had years that she had to catch up on, but partying was timeless. or at least she had hoped that nothing had changed. if anything, the drugs should get better as time goes on, and there was only one way to find out.

hearing the girl crying out, she had a smirk on her face as the other turned to face her. “i’m afraid that won’t be possible though, babe, since it’s my job to be the center of attention wherever i go,” she teased… kind of. “but sure. i hope your idea of trouble isn’t going to disappoint me though. what did you have in mind?” she asked with a subtle raise to her brow, smirk still lingering on pouty lips.

Morgan’s mouth was still partially open from yelling out into the nothingness. It immediately turned into a pleased smile. Another girl seeking the center of attention? Morgan couldn’t help but love it. They could make such a team of hellions. 

She put her hands on the curve of her hips and looked the girl up and down before saying anything. Finally, out came a, “So, it would seem I have a fellow partying soul sister, huh?” She laughed at herself and then thought of Nari, her actual stepsister, how she’d gone missing and found dead. Morgan was sure her smile had faded for a moment, but she snapped back quickly wanting nothing more than to get fucked up so she could forget the memories she did have.

“You want some trouble? Let’s get that drink first and then, just maybe, I’ll be able to score us something a little better.” Not bothering to see if she was being followed, she walked toward the local pub. 

It was a day to get shitfaced and forget anything ever existed.

Aleč raises an eyebrow, amused by the girl’s attitude. “Ya sure we can even die again?” He wasn’t really, but he also wasn’t about to get shot again to figure it out. “I dunno, though, it seems pretty damn lucky to me. I’ve got shit to do, better here than in some damn casket.” Aleč wasn’t quite sure of that either, but he figured a bit of confidence couldn’t hurt for now. 

He rolls his eyes at her request, but pulls out his pack and lighter and hands them over. The lighter was something that had shown up in this decade with him, made of metal and bearing the logo of the Czechoslovak Ministry of Defence, but it works and so he’s not about to get rid of it. “Don’t say I never did nothing for ya.”

Morgan looks down at the cigarette then at person giving it to her. She gave a coy smile as she took his gift. “If we’d been cremated we wouldn’t be here, now would we? Let’s be thankful for that casket before shitting all over it.” The words flowed from her mouth as easily as the smoke exiting her lungs. 

She hadn’t really thought of where she was before this. Had she been in a casket? All she could remember were those boots being laced together and she wasn’t about to take off of the few reminders she had of her decade. They meant too much. Morgan realized she was lost in thought as she heard him giving back the same attitude she had given him. She smiled and bit her lip.

She turned and looked directly at him and leaned in. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t be forgetting any time soon.”

kenny had been awakened in this NEW decade several weeks ago and by now had begrudgingly found work at a bar. tonight was his night to work , so he lit a cigarette as he braved the CHILL in the evening air to walk to the nearby bar , hands shoved into his coat pockets as he walked down the sidewalk. what he hadn’t been expecting was to come across a chick YELLING at nothing in the middle of it , but he played it off as she whirled around. his eyebrows rose as he took the cigarette from his mouth , “ hm , as tempting as that sounds i’m actually on the way to work. as it would be though , it’s a GREAT place to grab a drink and i could maybe take a secret shot with you. “ 

All of a sudden, Morgan heard a male voice saying things she wanted to hear. Not only did he say things she wanted to hear, but the timbre of his voice was fucking amazing. She turned to look at him. She was taken aback by his face and entranced by the cigarette entering and exiting his mouth.

Morgan couldn’t help herself. Whenever someone attractive came along, she immediately felt attraction. She didn’t even know this guy but just the sound of his voice made her wonder if her dizziness had anything to do with him and less to do with her twirls.

“I could join you at work,” she said, again impressed that he had a job. Something she’d yet to accomplish for herself. “I’d love to take some secret shots,” she grinned and bit her lip, “With you.”

“are you talkin’ to me?” Leia had yet to meet the woman who was now standing too close for comfort, but it wasn’t like she knew anything about personal space, either. “well, I dunno. I’ve got to go grocery shopping at two, then do laundry at four. i also have- of course! I’d love to, stranger. I, I don’t have an ID with me, though.” a sudden drop in spirit overcame her body language, shoulders slumped. “got a fuckin’ ticket stub and forty bucks on me when I got here, but no ID. don’t think I ever got one, to be honest.”

First and foremost. Morgan was caught off guard by this new person’s appearance. She was stunning, if she said so herself. She stepped a little closer to her, wanting to make the girl (she desperately that she knew the girl’s name) slightly uncomfortable. Or, perhaps, make her feel a little more comfortable. That thought sent Morgan into a glorified frenzy. “Yes. I was talking to you. Who else would I be talking to, gorgeous?”

Then the girl listed errands and the boring parts of life. Maybe Morgan was wrong? She took a small step back with her hands in her pockets. Then she heard the girl cut herself off. She wanted the drink. 

A sly smile crossed Morgan’s face as she grabbed the others’ hand. “Don’t worry. I never had a real ID either,” then whispered in the girl’s ear, “You’ll have to tell me about that ticket stub.”

            the modern world ( that’s what she’d heard someone call it ) was strange, but what kind of strange was it? she hadn’t exactly decided yet. so she was doing what she did best, listening and observing because that was the way to learn — and her only alternative until she found something she could actually use. 

not that she was having much luck, being far too proud to actually admit her struggle. she was very much the ‘ suffer in silence ‘ type, eyes flickered down to the engagement ring she was still wearing unsure of the reason as to why it was there but completely aware of the fact that she couldn’t take it off. something inside of her just told her that it was meant to be there, so there it stayed. “ what? “ the blonde had been pulled out her thoughts, by a completely unfamiliar voice, quirking her brown in slight confusion as she realized the woman was speaking to herself, rory heavily sighed. 

“ keep talking to yourself in public and i’m sure that you’ll be getting attention in no time. “ had that been snappy? absolutely, but the comment just seemed a bit out of place didn’t it? shaking her head as the girl continued to speak. 

“ no, to the trouble and maybe to the drink. “

Morgan focused on the girl in front of her. Some may have been offended by her attitude. Not Morgan. “Hey, I like your ...spunk,” she grinned as she walked over. It wasn’t everyday -- not anymore anyway -- that people would speak that way to her. And she loved it. It showed some sort of camaraderie between bitches. 

“But! Why no trouble? Sometimes that can be the best part.” This girl had been interested in a drink so maybe they could find some tiny, accidental trouble. Fun trouble, of course. Morgan smiled to herself as she wiped her hands on her corduroy pants, extended her hand and said, in her boisterous voice, “The name is Morgan. Drinking buddy extraordinaire. Now where do you suppose we could get this drink? And maybe some quality music?”