Maybe we should trust Bob [Saphy]

Alright.. what the serious fuck was going on here?

Not long after all the criminals laid on the ground, presumably dead, or in searing pain from the crotch blow, a few men barged in through the front door, and they pretty much started cleaning the place. Some even started tending to the server's wounds, but they all had one thing in common. They looked like dogs. Dogs following the alpha male in their pack. Unfortunately for them though, their alpha male looked like a total wimp that needed to get his ass on some weight machines. Or a treadmill. Whichever works.

"Oh fuck you and your goons."

Still, when it came to the offer of free drinks, she couldn't really say no. After all, it was the least he could have done after the entire scene that just happened. She didn't seem shaken, but in fact, she seemed a bit restless. When it came right down to the core, this entire thing seemed like something a group of thugs would do. A group of gangsters. Leanna's watched more than her fair share of yakuza-related movies and documentaries to know how they functioned, and leaving witnesses behind didn't really sound like something they'd do.

"You're still a no good bitch if you have to stand behind a wall of burly men." She was still covered in blood, and she definitely needed to clean up before it all started to clot and fuck up her hair for the next few days, but she still sat down on one of the bar stools and immediately downed her drink in a few gulps. "Fuck you if you think I'm scared. I've been through a fucking plane accident and I've seen worse shit happen in riots."

"Give up..?"

Oh now he really hit the spot. Despite what many may have thought, Leanna hadn't exactly given up on life just yet. Okay, well, that might not be entirely true, but she felt that if she were going to go down, she would go down on her terms, not anyone else's. If she were to die from a drug overdose? No problem. She'd accept that outcome in a heartbeat. But when it came to things that she couldn't control, such as the event that happened on this very day? There was no way in hell that she could just give up and do exactly as told.

"I was about to nail those sons of bitches, and I bet I would've fucked them up in a way that your goons suck at doing."

By then, she probably angered several of those people, but its not like she gives much of a damn bout what other people thought. If she did, she would have already been a victim of mass media reporting nonsensical shit about her life. No one knows a damn thing about what she's gone through, and no one was capable of understanding how she truly feels. Music has always been her only companion, but even so, music lead her to success and fame, and that eventually lead her to being stabbed in the back.

"I don't need shit from any of you people. Aside from your booze." As if anyone expected any less of a response from her, who has been surprisingly vocal after all of this. After the bottle slid over, the girl took several big gulps from it, and almost immediately, her cheeks started reddening. She then proceeded to fish out a bag from her pocket, along with a roll of thin paper. Judging from how these people are similar to how a mafia group functions and all, they'd probably recognize weed when they see it. And right now, Leanna definitely needed a good smoke to calm her down. Plus, if she keeps ingesting this much alcohol, she'd probably forget about the entire thing, anyway. 

With a small huff, she slid the bottle back over to the dude who was still getting his shoulder patched up. "One bottle ain't fuckin enough. Open up another."

It would be extremely awkward- and somewhat surprising, for the first thing to have made her wince on this evening to be the sounds of a broken glass. There were certain sounds that just annoyed the living crap out of her, and this certainly qualified as one of them. It didn't take the cake at the top spot though, that belonged to the unmatched nails against chalkboard.

As Leanna wandered back over to her original seat to take her belongings, she lit up her joint with the previously left behind lighter. Of course, her being a hardcore addict to drugs and all, one of these barely does the trick. She'd need several before she actually starts feeling any of the promised effects. She had no idea where her supplier gets all these things from, but she'll bet that she's the guy's number one customer, with all the shit that she uses in a month.

Upon realizing that she's said her fair share of words, to the point where her throat was drying up, she temporarily returned to silence. This was a prime example of why she hated having conversations with people. No one understood, and they all kept jumping to conclusions. One way or another, even if they were fun people to talk to in the beginning, they would eventually piss her off in some fashion.

After a few more heavy puffs- with the smoke being inhaled, instead of exhaled like a normal smoker would for maximum effect, Leanna returned to the counter. Saying no to free booze was a task that's virtually impossible for her, and even though the only means of her getting home was through riding her bike, that hadn't stopped her before from stuffing herself to the brim.

"You don't know me. Don't talk like you fucking do. It pisses me the fuck off."

... Huh

This was actually the first time in history that someone had apologized for what they said to her. Not once has this ever happened, but then again, people tend to believe whatever it is they read, no matter how believable the source was. Humans are just naturally lazy creatures, and they tend to believe the first thing they read in a single article without conducting further research.

"Tch.. don't think I'll start fucking talking just cause of your shitty apology." And that was about as far as anyone would get when it came to Leanna expressing her appreciation for pretty much anything. Still, there was no way in hell that this guy would ever come to understand her, and most of that was due to how he was probably raised. Hiding behind bodyguards all his life, he wouldn't really have anything to worry about if he had that much money to spend.

"Angry, cause what? You got shot in the shoulder instead of your balls? I mean, I could do you a favor and dig my heels into them if you want. That guy looked like he enjoyed it."

It was the least she could do after going through that entire experience. For a normal individual, witnessing that entire scene first hand would have probably traumatized them, but for Leanna, she's watched way too many gory horror slasher films for anything of this caliber to affect her in any way. Hey, long and sleepless nights on the road meant you had free time to do whatever you wanted, and most of her time was either spent writing songs and lyrics, watching movies or playing games. When you're high, everything's entertaining.

Twelve times of being shot? That must have been fun. Hell, Leanna remembered reading an article a long while ago about a rapper who got shot 9 times, simultaneously, and lived. That was pretty much the only thing that rapper was known for, other than putting out horrendously bad music, but it was still pretty impressive how one could survive that many bullets. Maybe they had some sort of natural bullet evasion kung fu jitsu thing, or maybe the people who aimed to shoot them down had as much accuracy as an 80 year old blind man with Alzheimer's.

"Fun."

Something was definitely getting annoying, and that's the stickiness that's started to develop around her hair. Some parts were still dripping wet, but the parts that weren't, started to clump up and solidify, and slowly, her pink started getting stained by a brownish red. They were in an air conditioned room, after all, and that really didn't help her much. "Ugh.. you got a wet towel laying here somewhere? My hair's all.. fucked up and shit."

It would've been way easier had she just gone home and showered, but if given a choice, she'd rather have free booze over a few days of fucked up, metallic scented hair. Even if there was a shower in the bathroom here somewhere, she still couldn't use it without any spare changes of clothes. "I need to get fucking drunk. You got anything stronger? Whiskey ain't doing it for me."

The first thing that anyone should know about Leanna, was how she keeps her life private. When she was still famous, she wouldn't walk around in flashy clothing, flaunting about how rich she was and pose for pictures with the paparazzi. Even though she was younger back then, this force of habit still carried over into adulthood. Not once since she's moved here that she's had any visitors. Hell, not even back in her old apartment, when she still lived in the States. Its not that she disliked people, its more so towards how she hated people interfering in her affairs without knowing much about her in the first place.

"Ain't no way you're coming over to my place, but I ain't a hundred percent sure about going over to yours." Judging from the way she acted earlier on, one would automatically assume that she's had her fair share of boyfriends in the past- and yes, that's true, so even if she agreed to it, it wouldn't be her virgin visit to a dude's crib. "I'll rip your nuts off if you try anything funny."

"But I ain't parking my bike here. Just lead me to your place and I'll follow behind." Once again, she couldn't have resisted the offer of free alcoholic beverages, especially one that almost guaranteed getting her wasted. Plus, she'd get a nice hot shower alongside the copious amounts of booze, so it wasn't exactly the worst thing in the world. "S'not like they can see shit like that at night, anyway. Won't be the first time I'd have to outrun a cop if it happens, anyway."