Hotaru
Hotaru is drunk.
She’s in a bar so to anybody in the vicinity this shouldn’t be a surprise. To anyone who knows her? Definitely out of character. Hotaru is a woman who not only greatly prizes her control and autonomy, but guards it almost aggressively. Lowered inhibitions are something she generally avoids at all costs. Now, she’d made her plans known to Deimos in Halo that she wanted to get drunk with him, but if you take a look around where she sits at the bar...it’s clear she’s visiting alone tonight.
Getting drunk isn't the hard part. She’s inarguably tiny, little to no body mass to speak of, but at least it means she’s a cheap date for herself. The sting of sorrow is dulled by the alcohol when that thought crosses her mind at least, which she’s grateful for. But it does make her brow tighten, jaw clenching. Knocking back the rest of her drink, she gives a salute to Raza and stumbles in a display of uncharacteristic gracelessness towards the well-used dart boards. Turning over her shoulder, uncaring of the other patrons, she ties her hair up in a sloppy bun and slams her hand down near the dart cups. “Someone come play with me!” Because fuck it, she’s tired of asking. Tired of being spurned, turned down, abandoned and forgotten. So fuck yeah she’s gonna practically order someone to play a game with her, and if they don’t respond she’s gonna start throwing said darts at the other patrons in the bar.
She’s in a bar so to anybody in the vicinity this shouldn’t be a surprise. To anyone who knows her? Definitely out of character. Hotaru is a woman who not only greatly prizes her control and autonomy, but guards it almost aggressively. Lowered inhibitions are something she generally avoids at all costs. Now, she’d made her plans known to Deimos in Halo that she wanted to get drunk with him, but if you take a look around where she sits at the bar...it’s clear she’s visiting alone tonight.
Getting drunk isn't the hard part. She’s inarguably tiny, little to no body mass to speak of, but at least it means she’s a cheap date for herself. The sting of sorrow is dulled by the alcohol when that thought crosses her mind at least, which she’s grateful for. But it does make her brow tighten, jaw clenching. Knocking back the rest of her drink, she gives a salute to Raza and stumbles in a display of uncharacteristic gracelessness towards the well-used dart boards. Turning over her shoulder, uncaring of the other patrons, she ties her hair up in a sloppy bun and slams her hand down near the dart cups. “Someone come play with me!” Because fuck it, she’s tired of asking. Tired of being spurned, turned down, abandoned and forgotten. So fuck yeah she’s gonna practically order someone to play a game with her, and if they don’t respond she’s gonna start throwing said darts at the other patrons in the bar.
She doesn't care about your words
or how you'll try and save her
or how you'll try and save her
