Isa wasn't drunk, she had an insanely high tolerance for alcohol, she drank premium whisky for the burn it gave her stomach before a fight, her dad used to say you need fire in your belly before you throw down, she took a small swig and let the bottle swing back and forth in her hand. She patted herself down for a ciggarette but cursed and spat when all she found was a damp empty box crushed in her pocket. 

[i]Fuck, wrong jeans, I don't know why I do this shit to myself.[/i]

Isa then started to stomp a little faster in her headed direction she took a left at the street she memorised and wound up in the alley where her opponent was supposed to be.
She spotted him slouched in the distance, he was a big guy, probably could handle himself quite well too. Her dark eyes locked onto his hand which was holding some sort of drink, everyone that Isa knew that driank also smoked so she called out to him with a raspy snarl.

[i]Got any smokes? I'm fresh out, and the assholes on this street wont serve me any more. I've been killing for one since I left the underground man.[/i]

She then took a slightly more relaxed and slower pace as she trotted over to him, very relaxed but definitely jonesing for nicotine.