Work Text:
Cassie had agreed to be the designated driver, but it is quickly becoming obvious that she needs to be a wingman, too. She sits at the bar — nursing a sweaty glass of water, cracking ice between her molars — and watches Victoria try to dance with some guy.
Every movement is stiff and awkward. She doesn't even look like she wants to be touched.
It would be endearing, if it weren't so tragic.
"Someone needs to show her how to loosen up," she tells the bartender. A friend from a previous life.
The bartender laughs, "We both know it'll be you."