jonimichelle
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Summary
“What’s your name?” she asks.
He opens the door wider in reply.
Wanda doesn’t move.
The man bends to root through a cupboard instead.
“I don’t have anything in,” he reaches into the shelves, half of him disappearing inside, “Not much to offer you in the way of hospitality.”
“Yeah,” she studies him, rubbing her fingers together. “Ghosts don’t drink, do they.”
A bottle of cheap liquor. He tosses it a bit in his hand, turning it, inspecting it, grinning at the label.
“Think I’m a ghost, do you?”
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Following a sudden appearance of a strange red power, Wanda begins killing men to take the edge off. Her first kill in London doesn't go as she'd hoped.