Tall White Russian [Open]

Cécile wandered into the bar. It was a good day, at least for her. She only came here on good days. She was scared stiff of what would happen if she came on bad days. Alcohol was meant for a good time, not for drowning one's troubles away.

She walked boldly over to the woman who ordered White Russian. "I like your taste," she said agreeably, sitting down next to her. "Another White Russian," she called out to the bar tender.

Cécile boldly took a swig of her drink as soon as it was placed in front of her. "Mmm...Good drink," she said appreciatively. She grinned wryly and raised her glass to the woman. "May both of us die good deaths."

Cécile simply smiled at the girl's confusion. Yeah, she tended to have that effect on people when she was honest which was most of the time. She took another swig of her drink. "We're all going to die at some point. Might as well die well." And quickly. She really hoped for the quickly part.

Cécile preferred to die at the moment. Really, dying right not would be great. Even on her good days she still eagerly awaited to death, an end to the misery, suffering, and guilt, an end to a world without her brother. But even she couldn't be that honest. No, she didn't much care for therapy or pity.

"The point is to live with as little regret as possible. If you can wake up and say 'Today is a good day to die' you're set." Of course you needed to mean it too. Well, she always meant it when she said it before loading her Beast Battery into the muzzle and transforming. But she couldn't say she had little regret. No, that was the problem. Far too much guilt.

Cécile laughed as the woman was clearly still uncomfortable. "Drink up! Perhaps the alcohol will loosen your tongue! There's no need to be so guarded in a bar. And I know you find me strange. You can say so. No need to bottle up your feelings in a bar! Drink and be merry! Drink and speak freely for once!"

Cécile didn't need the alcohol for help in that department. She almost always said exactly what was on her mind. She only censored herself when it was absolutely necessary. She didn't want to be thrown back into therapy or removed from some classes. Still, she was really liberal with her words in class. Some teachers loved her for that and others hated her. But it was who she was. Why should she change for anyone else?

"Cécile Simard," she responded jovially, downing her glass. "Another one here!" she called out excitedly. "What about you? What's your name?"

"You don't know your name, Zero?" Cécile asked surprised. "Sucks!" she said loudly. "Do you have amnesia or something?"