A Bottle - Sue is Sloshed

One drink led to three or four. It wasn't heady or harsh, not in the way of whiskey or tequila, and it ran down Sue Storm's throat easier than a glass of chardonnay. Porkum stood there in his custom-tailored suit, smiling, gracious, the bulk of him and even the pig-like head less disconcerting now that the Invisible Woman was used to it.

They chatted. He asked her about her life, complimented her outfit, her hair, the trimness of her figure, asked how often she worked out. Sue leaned against the desk and answered, occasionally throwing questions back at him: where he was from, how he got started in this business. At first he was self-conscious, the answers vague, but as they neared the end of the bottle he grew friendlier, took her into his confidence a little.

Porkum spoke of how he was born a mutant. The difficulties he'd had growing up. A mother who couldn't stand the sight of him; how girls had made fun of him when he was younger, and how even today he had difficulty forming emotional relationships with women. He let slip implications of a troublesome youth—which led to some altercations with the police. Sue nodded, remembering Johnny when he had been younger, hot-headed, acting out.

"It's my appearance, you see," Porkum said, those small dark eyes fixed on her flushed face, the erect nipples that tented the fabric of her shirt—Sue had gone bra-less for a reason that escaped her at the moment. "Everyone sees me as a monster."

Sue Storm's vision swam a little as she drained the final glass. The room spun gently. She thought of Ben Grimm, who had spent years agonizing over his appearance.

"I don't *hic* think you're a monshter," she said, slurring the last word.

Porkum's smile grew wider.

"Ah, but you haven't seen all of me," he said.

Which is when a very drunk Sue Storm did something very stupid.