#marisol003

Rowan has no idea how she feels about any of this. As far as she’s concerned, it’s a necessary evil -- they needed the numbers and the resources that came with merging with the Bastards and while she may not be all of their biggest fans, she has hope that this can work in the end. What throws her is the fact that Otto fucking Steel gets to sit at the head of the table and call the shots. She understands it had been an ultimatum, leaving them desperate with no where else to turn but that doesn’t make it any easier of a pill to swallow. She doesn’t trust him, and in her eyes he has no place at the head of the table. She can’t help but wonder what Marisol thinks of all of this and as much as she hates to admit it, Marisol’s opinion on the matter will most definitely affect Rowan’s opinion on her. They’d been sitting at the bar together, chit chatting away while Ro tried to find the best way to bring it all up without seeming like she was interrogating her when all thoughts of that are suddenly gone. Instead, her attention has been stolen by the way Reina parades around the club house with her latest golden goose -- Otto Steel and a large diamond on her finger. “Did you know that was going on?” 

Izzy liked the idea of ignoring the bullshit that was happening around town, immersing herself in the idea that everything would be fine— or else she might look to numbing that panicked feeling. She knew that it was something particularly bad, considering the way that that everyone in the Club seemed on edge. On the other hand, she wasn’t sure how the Bastards were doing, considering this shit had been pinned on them for months, especially Kali. Ultimately, she wonders if they’re half as pissed as the Primordials for being framed. Either way, when she sees Marisol, she jumps at the chance to invite her to her table to sip on their beverages from the barista, happy to find someone to sit with. It hadn’t been busy enough quite yet, she guessed. “Alright so, I have an important question and you’re like the only one that I think will answer me with complete honesty—” Izzy says, dramatically. “Should I just like bleach my whole head?” she asks, her natural color of hair clearly a long ways away from bleach blonde. “Maybe then no one will even recognize me. Like undercover boss sort of thing.”