While ordinarily it's something that Lisbeth might have at least noticed, she's got a narrow scope tonight. She waits for the drinks, and downs half of hers to feel the burn. A few years ago, and certainly before she was legal to do so, she did manage to soften the hard edges in her life with substances of all kinds; the fuzziness had led to too many close calls, and now it's just a bit of an adrenaline bump.

"Something you would only be doing here, I think," Lisbeth says, unsure of how to cut her usual way of speaking. In some fucked up way, it helps her to remember Beth is every bit the survivor she herself is. "I've only met a few people here. I don't have friends, really, at home. And I don't have--"

Her skin is pale enough that a flush stains through.

"I met someone. And I like him. Quite a bit."