god i wish he didn't come in here every damn night--
--to do this, it's the same goddamn menu--
--who she's running from, bruises like that.
the last thought is aimed at her. molly keeps her eyes on the beer in front of her, well aware of what she looks like even without telepathy or any of the other powers she has now. her skin is too pale to not let the bruises look so dark on her skin, so prominent. putting make up on had been too annoying to deal with after awhile, and then she ached too bad to do so. even telekinetically--she just didn't want to shift around so much at all.
she traces a finger over the rim of her glass, not even half way to buzzed. her hair hangs long and messy in her face, the rest pulled back in a half ponytail. her shirt is a size too big on her; madelyne had left so many notes for her when molly had arrived back in her body, and molly wasn't surprised that she had dropped weight after an extreme ordeal like that. her stomach still felt too delicate most days for the greasy food she kept stubbornly eating to try to gain the weight back, to say nothing of the shitty beer along this impromptu roadtrip.
maybe impromptu was the wrong word. necessary felt better. necessary to leave boston for a bit, to try and go to see someone familiar. to go recharge with someone who cared about her, and maybe just--
well. she wasn't sure what she wanted past getting to london. she just had to get to him.
for now though, she glanced over to the rest of the bar from her spot. the thought that had come through, about her bruises made her curious. she hadn't exactly picked the friendliest looking place; half the people here were clearly locals who looked rougher than expected, a fourth looked like your usual truckers looking for a brief respite, and the rest ranged from bikers to wayward tourists.
she took a sip from her beer, letting her powers stretch out over the bar. filtering through the usual local chatter, trying to find the owner of the thought, to not get dragged down into their minds entirely. it seemed more and more natural to be able to do this now, to push her powers in the direction she wanted, needed them to.
--probably should say something, the thought comes and molly glances to her left.
to her surprise, it's a guy wearing a tattered shirt, a red leather jacket slung over his shoulder as he eats what looks like to be a messy arrangement of eggs over easy and toast. he's got tattoos on his neck, both arms, even on his face, hair a peroxide, spike blonde. she looks away before he can catch her in the act; but as she slides into his thoughts, letting them roll over her, she finds he's been glancing at her since she walked in.
and from his perspective, she winces, almost choking on her beer when she swallows. the bruises on her neck are even worse from his perspective--or maybe she'd been under-reacting to how deep they were. she'd healed a bit of it with magic--maybe she hadn't gone far enough. and certainly, from his perspective she looked much thinner than she felt.
she sets her beer down, puts down a hundred bill--and almost bolts out of the bar, into the cold.