[center][h1]Wildfire[/h1][/center]
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"Here’s to not getting shot," Wildfire said, downing one of the glasses Frost had filled, with a gulp, and heavy exhale. 

"By Frost or anyone else," she teased.

"Don’t worry adept," She added, "We’re just here for a payday, no need to concern yourself with the past. What’s done is done and always was."

Leaning against the drink cart, Wildfire twirled her empty glass, spinning it around as if it was some old Western revolver, rather than a fragile glass that would break if she dropped. Beaming with a smile that she felt thanks to the heat of the whiskey, she winked at the Technomancer, grateful for the show and distraction to keep Frost busy and off her back, "Rowdy sounds good, dirty sounds better, and you had me at cracks big enough for us to slip through."

Waving at the laconic Johnson, her voice was laced with sweetness, "Johnson-sama, what’s the budget for a ride? And somewhere to stay? As my sister so kindly pointed out, it would [b]such[/b] a bother for her if she had to share a small bed with little ol’ me."