A weekend in Vegas was hardly Brinn’s idea of a good time, but when friends have birthdays and offer you a paid flight and hotel room just to spend the time with you, saying no would just be hurtful. The empath couldn’t bear the disappointment as much as she couldn’t bear the crowded casino floor or the way her brain was constantly reminding her that, in this dress, the entirety of her legs were bare for the world to see. Call her a recluse, call it cliche, but quietly she yearned for her empty hotel room just upstairs, a mug of tea and that one pair of sweatpants waiting in her suitcase.
It was closing on midnight now and her two friends, including the birthday girl, hovered by the blackjack table, not playing, but having a blast just watching a couple of older, more seasoned gamblers go at it. Brinn clung to their joy and tried to ignore the influx of emotion coming from the other patrons, every once in a while flinching at a sharp stab of utter devastation as someone lost every cent in their pocket. The woman teetered on her aching feet slightly, feeling exhausted, brow damp with sweat despite the air conditioning, but was careful not to let any of her irritation effect the others; they were having such a good time.
“I’m gonna go get a drink.” Brinn mentioned quietly once it was apparent her friends showed no signs of retiring anytime soon. They didn’t seem to notice, but she drifted away anyway, anxiously dodging human bodies on the way to the bar in the back. It was just as crowded as the floor, but there were some seats open and soon she sat, legs neatly crossed, sipping ice water with her face buried in one hand. This was not her scene; this was not her comfort zone. But with just one day left after tonight, she promised herself she would endure.