Lily
She did confirm one thing she had already known, mixing drinks was never and would never be her speciality. Lily spat out the contents of the disgusting lime green mix of pure hell she'd managed to create. The place was a mess already so it didn't really matter if she made it even worse at this point, although she should probably leave before the pesky police showed up. Whatever penguins Sharkboy had failed to grab with him on his cowardly dash were long gone now, scared away with a simple glare.
All Lily needed was one more thing and she'd be set.
The red haired spirit stumbled down the street, drinking whiskey straight from the bottle with every uncertain step she took. People made a wide berth for her, unwilling to associate with the clearly drunk girl despite common sense saying otherwise. For all intent and purposes she looked a bit young to be drinking in the first place. Despite that no one dared to approached her. Because there was an edge to her, a violent edge threatening to cut your life short if you so much as looked at her funny.
That feeling was something they all understood, even if they lacked any supernatural awareness, their primal instincts didn't lie. Instincts ingrained into the genes for millions of years didn't lie, and they all said one thing, no screamed one thing. Danger, this girl was dangerous. It was the instinctual recognition of a predator.