#yeeeeets

She’s still in the midst of fighting through intoxication when Regina’s words finally cause her to stir and glance up at the woman, only just realizing she’d arrived and had been talking to her since. There’s a red imprint on her cheek from the couch arm, visible for a moment before Drizella rests her head back down on it and stares ahead once more. Jaw clenches and she holds her coat up to hide her face, pressing the leather firmly against flushed skin and a shaky exhale of breath can be heard. 

“I don’t belong here,” Drizella’s grunts after a long moment and it’s the same words she spoke since she first arrived in Storybrooke. She sniffles before finally sitting up, knocking an empty glass onto the floor and holding her jacket to her chest like a safety blanket. “People hate me, and they should,” She goes on to mewl, whether it’s the alcohol or not that brought her voice into a whine an argument in itself but the point is clear.