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Mister Rogers neighborhood

Coffee! Yeah, coffee would have helped.
It was Tuesday, so Catra had three days to think of how to approach Adora.

She will be furious, obviously - but maybe all this time distant will calm her a little.

Adora hasn't written anymore, should Catra reach out? No, that would be worse.

If Adora disappeared - again, but that's not the point - what would make the brunette the least angry?
Maybe an homemade dinner? Those are good to apologise.
No, if she was her she would throw the dishes.
The house cleaned?
Well, of course, that's like the minimum after you are their first time and then you act like a bitch.

"Aaaarghhh"

Why couldn't she just be the little shit she is? Why did Angella's pep talk have to work?

Catra should just get drunk and see what it will lead her, because this shit is all too stressful.

Pop

A nice glass of rum and everything will be fine, easier, lighter.

Catra always had a thing for rum, as she was told she was probably cuban, although some others had asked if she was puertorican.
Not like the girl had any real clue, apparently her surname wouldn't give away any hint too.

God, if she hated to think about her parents!
Why dying? You can't have an Hispanic child who is hella gay and has heterocromatic eyes - with Catra's personality too - and leave them alone in the world! It's some crazy shit!
Obviously, you can't choose to die because of an earthquake too...but come on! At least leave your child to someone who can take care of them!

Fate, what a bitch.

Catra should probably eat something with this rum, it's not really wise to have alcol when you only ate one of those awful protein bars Adora buys.
That shit ain't real food, she swears.

Please, please let there be some pizza in the fridge...and no! Great! Fuck off!

Catra got rid of her pigiama and wore one of her roommate's t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Doctor Martins on, money hidden in her bra and she was out.

Now, she was pretty sure that on the other side of the park, down the road, next to the library there should be a - yeah! A Subway! Thank you fancy neighborhood of rich asses!
The brunette went in and ordered her sandwich, trying her hardest to not laugh at the guy on the other end of the counter, because his unibrow was awful and man, please, tweezers exist since like forever!
Anyway, she fucking nailed it in not show her chuckles because she was sober, ok?
She was that right of drunk, you know? When you feel funny and good and undefeated.
She felt wild, like her hair.

Fuck Adora!

Eheh

Yeah, she would like to fuck Adora again - man that was a good night...

No! Bad Catra! Bad Catra! Eat your fucking sandwich.

Uff...The sandwich tasted good, kinda basic. Tuna sauce, veal, salad, cheese, tomatoes. It should be some Italian shit combo, or whatever.

The brunette sat in the park, feeling the bliss of the alcol peak fading away, regretting of having left the now half-empty bottle of rum at home.

She could have used a flask, like Jack Sparrow in pirates of Caribbean. She liked the dude, could have been friends with some bitch like him, but never on a ship in the middle of the ocean.
The very idea of being trapped somewhere like it sent shivers down her spine.
If she was in one of those films, she would have owned a bar, or have been a merchant.
Owning a brothel is endearing, but the idea of all those women having to deal with awful partners who essentially rape them in order to survive, disgusted Catra to the gut.
In one of those films Adora would have been some kind of good pirate, all about honour and pride, because she is that kind of person.