No liquor and no cigarettes, stuck in the middle of who-the-****-knew-where with a group of strangers who, along with her, just barely survived getting murdered by a deranged cowboy and his two weirdo friends. Sandra had had quite a few fucked up days, but that one took top marks. What was worse, her bag was still on the bus. She had been fortunate to have slipped her phone in her jacket pocket, but other than that and her knives, she had nothing but the clothes on her back.
The entire ordeal left her feeling weak in the knees. She had guns pointed in her face, among other unsavory acts of villainy, but never anything like that. It was fucking supernatural. Driving up the side of a fucking building wasn't fucking normal! It wasn't possible!
She let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through her hair. When a cigarette stub fell out, she raised an eyebrow but gave it no thought. "I need a drink. A stiff one." The only way off the building was the stairs. That meant having to talk to those fucking cops that were for sure congregating on the ground. ****. The last thing she wanted was to talk to the police. She hated them. Had far too many run-ins with the law to give a **** what some pig had to say.
She lifted her head slightly and noticed that one weird woman trying to... light a cigarette with her finger.
...
Sandra supposed she wasn't the only one taking **** hard.
"Light?" she said, offering her lighter.