"Penny for your thoughts?"
The woman at the bar looked up and considered her from the corner of her eye. "Try a beer."
Sara considered the woman in turn. She'd seen her across the bar. Pretty underneath all that eyeshadow. Haunted by the look of it. She was running from something, trying to get drunk cheap and fast to escape. Just like her. She signaled the bartender.
Mumbling a thanks when a pint appeared in front of her, the woman took a long drink. "Daisy."
"Sara." She clicked her shot glass against the rim of the pint. Tilting her head, she shot it back with a wink. "What's a pretty face like yours doing in a shithole like this?"
Daisy blinked, looking around, her eyes catching on the ripped booth cushions, rickety, sticky tables, and beaten-down pool tables with peeling green felt. There was surprise there, but not when she noted the exits. "Wanted a drink," she said finally, "same as you, I guess."
"Hiding?"
She smirked at the way Daisy's head lolled around until it came in line with her. The annoyed stare and lack of denial told her all she needed to know.
Sara called for another shot. "I'm on a journey of *self-discovery* myself."
Daisy snorted into her glass. "Anyone buy it?"
"Absolutely not." Her shot appeared on the counter. She took it, tilting the rim of the glass in Daisy's direction with loose fingers. "You still owe me a thought."
She took a heavy swig of beer. Sara followed with her shot, for once ignoring the pleasant burn working her way down her throat as she felt, more than saw, Daisy's mood shift.
"I think… they were right when they said 'wherever she goes, death follows.' No matter how hard I try to keep everyone safe, it's never enough. Someone near me always has to die.
Sara blew out a long breath and reached out slender fingers to squeeze the woman's shoulder. A disguised wince had her quickly pulling away again.
"Told you it wasn't a penny kind of thought." Daisy laughed. There was no humor in it. She curled farther in on herself, shoulders hunching, arms tucked away, as though the very space she occupied might be enough to summon the death that followed her.
Sara placed her empty shot glass down on the counter with more force than necessary, a thick thump more than enough to catch Daisy's attention. "I have the opposite problem."
"What?" Daisy snorted. "People living too long?" She pushed her lower lip out into a mocking pout.
Sara shook her head, not rising to the obvious bait, forcing the madness, threatening to lash out as such insult, down with the power of a fuck ton of vodka and sheer will. "Nope. I'm the one who keeps dying on them." She caught Daisy's head tilt. With a sigh, she explained in a… half-true way, "Legally declared dead. Twice." She held up two fingers for emphasis. "Separate incidents."
"Shit," Daisy said. Her gaze snapped back to her almost empty glass.
"Mhm. Talk about traumatizing everyone you care about." A dry laugh. "What a pair we'd make."
Daisy ordered the round this time, but she reached out to snatch Sara's glass, holding it hostage. "Life's pretty fucking miserable right now-"
"You think?" Sara snorted, finally letting her judging gaze visibly roam the girl's outfit.
"Shut up," she groaned. "Just… I could use a friend that comes back to life."
Sara's lips curled into a smirk. "Any chance you could use something more?"
"I-" she cut herself off with a chuckle. The rest of her beer disappeared in one go. She relinquished Sara's hostage as well. Shook her head in disbelief. "I've got a van out back."
Sara downed the shot and stood, offering a hand. "Van it is."