[u][i]Kylie “Grease” Evans[/i][/u]

The night had barely even started and Grease already had a drink in her hand. Everyone knows that there are several different types of drunks. And anyone who knows Grease is that once she gets past a point the world is suddenly sunshine and rainbows. And she liked it that way. In the rare moments when she is completely sober she might not give an underling the time of day, always wearing a disconcerting frown on her face. But once she has downed a few drinks her entire composure changes and suddenly she is giving even the entry level, pawn Skulls, pats on the back and kisses on the cheeks.

Grease was currently sprawled out on a dusty old sofa, a light trail of smoke drifting up from the lit end of a cigarette perched at the end of her lips. She rummaged through the pockets on her jacket, fiddling with the laces on her shoes with her free hand, until she pulled out the objects of her desire. It was some of the things she found herself always carrying. A small, pocket sized, mirror, a metallic comb and a tin of some of the nicest hair grease the town had for her to steal. She literally stockpiled the stuff, it was a signature part of her look. It was also obviously how she got her nickname, Grease.

She took the spent cigarette that was still hanging from the corner of her lips and snuffed it out on the wooden card table that was next to her. That was one of the great things about being one of the head honchos of the Skulls. She got respect, and she could smoke indoors. That was really all the girl wanted.

Leaning the mirror up against her foot, Grease got back to the more important matters at hand. Her hair was getting flat. She flicked open the tin with a satisfying clink, globing a generous amount of gel onto the teeth of her comb and brushing it through her unnaturally colored hair, being mindful of her earrings. After a couple passes through, her hair was back into it's bumped up pompadour, and damn did it look good. With a content grin, Grease scraped the remaining grease off of the teeth of the comb and back into the tin, not wanting to waste, and then returned the three objects back into her pockets. Now that her hair emergency was fixed, she took out a fresh cigarette and lit it.

Grease then heard Skeleton clear his throat and lazily sat up. She normally didn't pay much attention to his announcements. They were often awkward and lacked any sort of personality or MLA citation. But today she would listen, because she knew exactly what was happening. Her little brother was being promoted to a Big. Grease would admit that a lot of it was her influence, she did happen to be one of the founders of the gang, but Matt was also crazy strong. Grease began to hoot and holler for him, along side many of the other members cheering for him. 

She also happened to be the last members of the gang, drunkenly cheering, when Skeleton again called for silence. She launched herself out of her seat, her cigarette falling to the filthy wooden floor. She reminded herself to pick it up later as she grabbed her glass of colorful alcohol. She moved to the other side of Matt. She patted her little brother on the back, mimicking what Damian had done. 

“Ya do your sister proud Matty! But I say no dating 'till you're married!”

Grease spoke with a huge grin on her face, her breath smelling heavily of smoke and alcohol. Life was good.