When Wynonna had first met Jessica Jones, she wasn't sure what to make of her.

Storming into the bar and nearly breaking the tinted glass door was a better entrance than any. Wynonna had taken a lightheaded glance at the angered woman, before turning back to the barista, ordering another shot, and downing the drink she had in hand.

Because, if anything, Wynonna was gonna have to be a lot drunker than this if she wanted to deal with some pissed-off woman ripping up her second-favourite bar.

Not that she was the only one. Everyone here was either drowning their sorrows, so happy about some mundane success in life that they needed to celebrate in some way, or looking for a quick fuck. All of them's messed up in some way.

Wynonna's all three.

Because if she doesn't count leaving Purgatory as a victory, she wouldn't know where to put that one in.

''Fuck,'' the woman groans, and slides into the barstool beside Wynonna, and orders two shots of whiskey when the barista approaches. Wynonna adds an order for one more shot, because if she's gonna engage in some drunken ramblings with this woman beside her, she's gonna have to be drunk enough so she doesn't remember it in the morning.

When she orders eight (nope, nine) shots of whiskey at once, Wynonna gets curious and curiouser. She beckons to the woman with a tilted nod. ''Hey. Up for some shots?''

Dark-haired woman grunts, but pushes about half of the shots on the table towards her. And Wynonna looks from the cups to the woman's sunken eyelids and gaunt jaw, because this woman intrigues her, and the words inevitably slip from her mouth: ''Loser tells her trauma.''

Wynonna's lagging thirty seconds behind when the dark-haired woman finishes all her shots.

She grunts, mostly in irritation. ''I was here first,'' because it was the only excuse she could find in her drunken-addled brain. What was this woman, and did she have some super-metabolism or some shit, and if so, where could Wynonna learn it?

Dark-haired woman scoffs, and calls the barista for another six shots, much to Wynonna's awe. And then she turns to her expectantly, and shit if Wynonna's drunken-addled brain conveniently added a loser tells her trauma to the contest without really thinking she'd lose, and two shits if she didn't drink enough to pass out yet.

She's drunk enough to tell her shit though.

''Gang burst into m' home,'' she mumbles, decidedly not looking at that woman 'cause shit doesn't need to be harder with someone else's disbelief. ''Shot m-my father tryna' kill one of them. Kidnapped my elder sis.''

Dark-haired woman's quiet, but doesn't run away screamin' for the cops, which Wynonna takes as a good sign. She doesn't say her sorries in a condensing, overly-patronising tone either, but calls for the barista to double the shots, which Wynonna appreciates.

''Well?'' Wynonna asks, as she watches the woman take what was probably the seventh shot. ''What brings you here?''

''I'm a regular.'' Dark-haired woman mutters as she fiddles a cup In her hand. ''You aren't.''

Wynonna scoffs. ''Points for guessing why?''

Dark-haired woman grunts. ''Go ahead. You wouldn't be able to guess it.''

Wynonna grins, mainly because the whiskey's affecting her and also because, if she didn't run away screamin' at Wynonna's shit, this woman might have enough shit to compare. Ah, damn, competitiveness.

''Lemme run down the classic list. Let's see. Boss fired you. Ex-boyfriend. Murdered someone.''

Woman stiffens at ex-boyfriend, and Wynonna lets a disbelieving chuckle. ''Whoa. Do not tell me I just guessed that right.''

''Nope,'' Dark-haired woman mumbles, and downs the two shots she had in hand. ''Ex-rapist. And that last thing on your list.''

Wynonna's eyes widen, and then she chuckles, somewhat in disbelief and in a well shit manner. ''Well shit,'' she says, and calls the barista for some more shots down the lane, cause she can't think of anything else to say.

They don't talk, but get drunk, mostly. Since, after all, they did call most of the shots and had to down em, one way or another.

And after it was over, the woman scrawls a number on a piece of paper, and swivels over to face Wynonna. Slams the paper on the counter as she slides off the stool. There's a number and an address to some Alias Investigations Office. Wynonna's sort of surprised, because people in bars who share their shit with others usually don't want a name or a number placin' their faces. But then, Wynonna realises, people in bars usually don't share stories about their individual murders and crap.

Dark-haired woman grunts at her, snapping Wynonna out of her reverie. Nods towards the note. ''Name's Jessica. My place's cheaper.''

Wynonna takes the number. ''Wynonna. Wouldn't mind doing this shit sometime again.''

For anyone who hasn't seen it yet, Wynonna and Jessica have actually talked. On Twitter, that is. /WynonnaEarp/status/741359318465843201

This is a standalone for now, but that can definitely change. I'm thinking of a 5 times Wynonna/Jessica meet kind of thing, sprinkled throughout canon. Let me know if you want future chapters!