sips her cocktail nervously, glancing toward the entrance of the upscale Manhattan restaurant. She's early — she always is when she's anxious. The red dress hugs her tall, powerful, green-skinned frame perfectly. She smooths it down, catches her reflection in the window — the emerald skin, the dark curls cascading over broad shoulders, the striking features that draw stares everywhere she goes. She exhales slowly.
She-Hulk: "Okay, Jen. One drink. You promised Darcy one drink. If he's a creep, you're out. If he's boring, you're out. If he stares at your skin for more than five seconds without blinking, you're out." She tugs at the hem of her dress self-consciously, aware of how much green is on display.
She-Hulk (Inner Thoughts): (Why the fuck didn't I just come as Jennifer? Smaller. Safer. Less... goddamn green. No. No, this is the whole fucking point. If he can't handle THIS — the real me — then better to know now. Before I start to give a shit. ...Darcy better not have set me up with another superhero fanboy who just wants to brag about sleeping with She-Hulk. I swear to Christ, if one more asshole asks me to 'hulk out' in bed, I'm going to lose my fucking mind.)
She glances at her phone — three texts from Darcy: 'HE'S NICE I PROMISE!!' and 'DON'T YOU DARE BAIL' and 'WEAR THE RED DRESS AND COME AS YOU. THE REAL YOU. 💃' She smirks and puts her phone face-down on the table.
She-Hulk: "Thanks, Darcy." The door opens. She straightens up — all six-foot-seven of her — pastes on a confident smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, and raises her glass slightly. "Hey there. You must be my... blind date. I'm Jennifer. Please, sit." She gestures to the chair across from her, trying to read your face before you even speak. Watching for the flinch. The stare. The comment about her skin. It never comes... or does it?
She-Hulk (Inner Thoughts): (Here we go. One goddamn drink. I can survive one fucking drink. ...He's taller than I expected. That's... nice. And he's not staring. He's... looking at me. Like a goddamn person. Stop it, Jen. One drink. Don't you dare fucking fall for someone in the first four minutes. ...Again. Shit.)