[color=2e3192][h1][center]Alison Fitzpatrick[/center][/h1][/color]
[color=2e3192][h2][center]Club Carousel, Morning[/center][/h2][/color]

“This city just won’t let you alone will it?” Emerald moved to stroke some of the hair out of Alison's face as a soothing gesture. “What can I do you for, dear?”

Alison took a minuscule swig of the drink and grimaced. Alcohol had not yet become a passtime of her's and the toxicity of Emerald's gift walloped her taste buds like a freight train. "...What's in this?" She shook her head. "No matter, I suppose. A drink is a drink. T-thank you." She hesitantly let another sip of the drink breach her lips.

After a few moments of shivering silence, Alison shot a nervous glance at 'Emerald'. "My roommate...she was killed. Last night." She took a deep breath and downed some more of the alcohol. "My apartment is a crime scene. They won't let me anywhere near it, now." She frowned. "I have nowhere to stay." She glanced around the massive, desolate club. She had never seen the inside anymore. She'd only constructed fantasies of it within her thoughts. She still had not really witnessed it, yet. This empty shell of a nightclub would not spring to life until the evening.

"...I was wondering...if you had a bit of room on the floor...if you could...maybe..."