Selina stepped out of the bar and onto the street. She had a gin in her hand as she let the fresh air awaken her senses once more. If she was honest, she was ready to call it a night since she had already spent too much of her day surrounded by a lot of people she had no time or tolerance for... and that was just about everyone. A car parked on the sidewalk caught her attention and she brought her drink to her lips before going over to inspect what she realised as a  Dodge Challenger. “Nice movement,” she murmured before adding, “Shame the body design is similar to a cereal box with wheels.” She rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to her drink.

He thought he should show up sober to the bar at first, finding the first member of the Wolves that he could and telling them that he was sober. He had changed! He was embarking on a new journey of his life without alcohol and his second step, after quitting drinking, was that he wanted to leave the Rebels and join the Wolves. He wanted to come back home.

However, he failed on two counts. The first being is he took two shots of tequila as soon as he walked into the Hole in the Wall. The second being that he couldn’t get through ‘I’m sober’ without bursting into laughter. Someday, maybe he’d be a good actor. Or he’d keep being a biker cause he was halfway decent at that.

Nonetheless, he had only appeared to see what was left of the Wolves and really screw with them. Tapping the shoulder of the first person he found, he started to ask, “Isn’t this place the best?” before promptly, accidentally to be sure, spilling his drink on them. Was it petty? Yes. Was it amusing? Also yes.

The party had gone off without a hitch...well as good as it could of gone. But Ophelia still had that pit in the bottom of her stomach as she finished the last parts of cleaning that needed to be done. Finishing up, the girl said goodnight to her coworker and headed to the back to grab her stuff and go. Her apartment wasn’t far, so she was walking, but she still didn’t like being out in an open space for too much longer than she had needed to. The hostility that ran through the town was palpable and the girl knew that it was on the brink of exploding. 

Heading down the sidewalk, she sighed as she stopped and listened to the steps that were behind her stop as well. Turning, Ophelia looked at them with a bored look on her face. 

“You know, following someone could get your ass beat.” 

Isla didn’t want to admit it, but she was tipsy. The new businessman in town, Javier...she couldn’t recall his last name, but she remembered him paying for all the drinks. As many of the reservations she had about showing up, and talking to people in general, she was still human and she wouldn’t turn down a free drink. 

And all the free drinks had gotten into her system, and loosened her inhibitions about being at the Hole In The Wall. She had memories of this place, when she was barely eighteen and sneaking in with her friends for one night. There was a table in the corner, that the lawyer drifted towards, to find the carved letters they had left on the surface of the wood. 

“You know...even though it was a drive away from good ol’ Tempe suburbia, this place was magical. I mean, for a house mouse like me, everything was. But you know...” The woman trailed off, eyes looking off into the distance, bleary with booze and nostalgia. 

The music was already giving him a headache. 

Henry felt old tonight. Defeated, always, but especially old tonight. He had two drinks -- straight whiskey, quick and easy -- and he was finished with that. He wasn’t on duty, but his gun still rested on his hip and he wanted to be prepared in case shit went haywire. Which he knew, eventually, it would. Everyone was playing nice, the air felt light, and it was hell of a homecoming party for the Wolves. The vibe was soon change, he knew, and he wasn’t sure if his old man bones could take it anymore.

Stepping outside the entrance, he scooted off to the side and lit a cigarette. With his sister gone and out of town, there was no one to harp on him anymore for smoking. No public to deem his actions unworthy. Just him and the cold, harsh truth of-- “Shit,” he muttered, searching his pockets for the second time, “do I really not have a lighter? Are you joking?” 

“You know, I feel like i’m going to need something stronger here soon.”