Summary:Hank wanted some BBQ so he went to Luke's where he met Domino, who hired him for a task, and Thea, who called him to task, and Anya (they already knew each other!) who mostly geeked out with him about tech stuffies Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
    |
Early evening, just before the usual dinner hour, and after another fruitless day of condo shopping, Hank felt he deserved a treat…in this case that means the best damned ribs in the five boroughs! Maybe the state. He parks his beloved Bessy (78 Ford Grenada, heavily modified, blue of course) at a structure a couple blocks away and walks to Luke's with a lively bounce to his step. After all, he's the 'bouncing Beast', not the apathetic foot shuffling Beast.
He's dressed at the moment in an amber knit sweater that's very snug to massive chest and forearms, black khaki's, size /twenty/ gym shoes (probably custom), and both a fedora and a black trench coat, the real deal too - complete with grenade loops at the waist and everything.
Now, Anya knows the man, even knows this version of him, so she won't find his proportions odd, others would. Into the bar and grill he goes, holding the door for another patron as they head out, smiling and tipping his hat genially. He opts not to notice how forced their return smile was, or how they hurry a few steps to get by. Just another day in the life of.
Eyes of blue scan the place, and he moves to the long bar after removing coat and hat, and hanging them up on some hooks for just that purpose.
As the other patron steps out past Hank it's not long before they return to their car and pull out into traffic. They had a really great spot along the curb, too! Just as soon as they've vacated the area another vehicle zips in to claim it like the whole switch had been well rehearsed.
Moments later another figure steps into the bar. Anya would probably recognize the bundled up trouble with the parchment white face and way more layers than necessary for the current weather. She may well be the only person who recognizes the albino. Domino had only been here once before but that's all set to change. Someone happens to have some vices of her own and this place seems to cater to a few of them.
Rather than a big guy in a Santa suit behind the counter there's an even bigger guy sitting on one of the stools which all but guarantees that she'll have to sit two spaces away from him so they aren't brushing elbows. The upshot is that she has somewhere to leave her long coat though she's immediately huddled forward with elbows resting on the bar.
Welcome, my son
Welcome to the machine
The second track from Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here' album is playing over the bar's PA system. The TouchTunes jukebox has been locked out; it's bartender seems to be in control, and is playing the album through top to bottom.
Looking up from the glasses she's restocking behind the bar, Anya's eyes brighten when she spots Hank. "Doctor McCoy!" she calls, and waves to him with a smirk growing on her face. "Welcome back."
The young woman isn't dressed nearly as outlandishly as she was for the Christmas party; black skinny jeans that are ripped in a few places, revealing what appears to be black tights and pink fishnets underneath. Her top is a burgundy bodysuit, a low cut in the back that reveals pieces of what must be a massive, arachnid tattoo running from shoulder to hip, though much of it remains hidden by the bodysuit. A black choker is around her neck, and her bright blue mohawk is styled up and hair sprayed into place. On the shoes? Doc Martens, of course.
When Domino joins, her smirk extends to the albino. "Hey there, dartmaster." She steps up between the two and leans her hands, nails painted a silvery black, upon the bar. "What are you two having?"
Pushing up his sleeves to reveal somewhat hirsute and MASSIVE, very very muscular arms with ridiculously oversized hands, Hank beams to Anya. "Miss Corazon, please, just call me Hank, mm?" Only then does he lean on the bar himself. "Oh my dear friend, I have some fun new tech to show off if you're minded to see." Oh, dear lord, TECH? He offers to show off some new tech to Anya? Could he be more FIENDISH?
He offers the new comer a friendly smile and a nod, bright blue eyes kind and he doesn't even single-take, let aloe double, at the chalky white skil or anything. His reaction is utterly - not, just friendly. "Interesting ink." He comments genially before turning back to Anya.
"For me? The ribs and chicken platter with all the fixins, and a pitcher of a beer, please." What's funny is the scale of his hands is such that he COULD drink from the pitcher and it would be scaled like a more normal person's hand holding a mug. He doesn't, that's uncouth, but he could.
To the greeting from Anya Domino dips her head and gives a two fingered salute, though the gesture is made solely on automation. Even 'dressed down' there's plenty to see where the other lady is concerned, the primary focal point being what looks like part of a tattoo Dom can't get a proper look at.
"How about some more of that stout?" She's not entirely sure what it was beyond 'good' so why not start there again!
Then comes a sidelong glance to the monster of a creature sitting beside her. The 'interesting ink' remark seems to be ignored by her, not quite as gracefully as Hank remains unaffected by her physical peculiarities. Pale blue eyes flicker with a silvery sheen at times but now her expression is more one of curiosity.
Did she hear Anya greet the guy as 'Doctor?' And he has tech to show off? How intriguing! Perhaps she picked the right O-thirty to swing by this place today.
"I've out-drank a lot of people but I know when to fold," she remarks with a smirk. Hank here already looks like a refrigerator full of beer kegs!
"Then how am I gonna make Star Trek references?" Anya argues with Hank, a glimmer in her eye. At the offer of tech, that glimmer brightens. "If it isn't a medical tricorder or a portable Spock Brain, I'm gonna be pissed. Any preference?" she gestures to the taps before jotting down Hank's order on a notepad.
"Good choice," she tells Domino. "Too early for engine degreaser?" she asks, referencing whatever swill it was she and Barton were drinking the other night.
Anya will fill Hank's pitcher, but she'll also leave him a pint glass to drink from. Then she heads over to the back room, nudges the door open, and clips Hank's order to a line. "Make it a big one!" she calls, to whomever is working back there. If Hank's lucky, it's Hod.
"The Stout is excellent." Hank observes, he's turned to lean on the bar so he can converse with both ladies present. He's only five eleven but damned if the bulk of the guy doesn't make him loom taller, even sitting down!
He can't help but laugh at the drinking contest mention. "Ah, well, minor healing factor - it is nearly impossible to get me drunk." A shrug. And the way he says that — Dom would get the distinct impression that he wouldn't even consider such a contest if it wasn't fair.
Big. Brainy (Doctor!). Polite. Boy Scout.
Yeah, totally Dom's type! NOT.
Hank ponders Anya's question. "Dammit, Anya, I'm a Doctor, not a riddlemaster." He quips in a pretty fair Bones impression, Start Trek Bones, not the Forensic Anthropologist! Hank is totally a squint to mix TV series, though. "Sorry, not a tricorder or brain, but it /is/ fun, I think you'll like."
He's not sure he wants anything labeled as 'engine degreaser', he'll accept his beer pitcher and pour himself pint. He also dons a pair of — nerdy looking reading glasses.
When Anya asks if it's too early Domino chuckles. "Ah, the 'pine varnish.'" Tugging several layers of sleeves back lets her check a watch pinned to the bottom of her wrist. "I'm pacing myself. It really cleared out the sinuses, I'll give it that."
It's an interesting parallel. Hank who had managed to make himself look more human is sitting beside someone who had managed to make herself look more like a cat somehow. She even has fangs! Not very large ones but they're present! It may be another sign that the universe has a way of retaining balance.
As Hank continues, complete with a turning on the stool to better address them both, Dom turns to the side and leans on just one elbow with the side of her jaw resting in her palm. "I didn't know that this place came with free entertainment. First it was the festive theme, now it's Science Hour with Bill Nye's bigger half." Inclining her chin slightly, she invites "Go on then, Doctor. Let's see whatcha got. Not only am I curious as hell about what it is but I'm every bit as curious what she needs it for" is said while motioning once more with her head toward Anya.
"Oh. My God." Clearly Anya is enamored with Hank's impression of the late DeForest Kelley.
Back to Domino she spins, and snaps her fingers. "Pine varnish! That's what you guys called it." Mischief now enters her eyes, for reasons she's yet to reveal. "I'm Anya, by the way. Didn't get a chance to meet you, but I sure did enjoy the show." She glances back toward Hank, anticipation in her eyes. "I'm something of a tech bitch," she remarks to Domino, by way of explanation. "Got a BS in CompSci and Electrical Engineering. Hacked the NSA database when I was fourteen." By the way she's talking, it's difficult to tell if that's a joke, or if she's serious.
Regardless, the young woman doesn't seem interested in switching off Pink Floyd; not when that Moog synthesizer quivers over 12 string guitars like sex on acid.
"Well, it is late enough /somewhere/, right?" Hank can't help but shudder a bit at the description shifting from 'engine degreaser' to 'pine varnish' — NOT an improvement. Not even a bit.
As to the demi-feline, Hank knows and is very close friends with several - Greer Nelson, Isis Marik and of course his former lab assistant Catseye, so, yeah - feline traits? Not even noteworthy for the guy.
"Oh yes, the entertainment factor is high." Hank confirms, before dipping a half bow to the albino lass seated next to him.
He grins hugely to Anya. "I'm Doctor McCoy, have you /any/ idea how many Star Trek jokes have been sent my way? I figured I might as well own it rather than bemoan it."
Rising, he grins. "Yes, Miss Corazon is all about the BS." He teases brightly. And really, like Hank doesn't like Pink Floyd? He LOVES music, pretty much all of it. "Perhaps after this you could boot up some Disturbed?"
And then he stands up, a sausage thick finger taps the side of the glasses he put on, and then they /morph/, ending up an amber visor covering his eyes and adhering to the skin. "But wait, there's STILL more!" He adds in horrible TV commercial guy voice.
Hands raised before him, he starts typing on the air, and then his CLOTHING morphs too, turning into a fairly sleek and stout bit of body armor.
«Ref Pic: https://tinyurl.com/wmcypa8»
"Neena" the albino returns with a renewed look of idle amusement. Anya hacked the NSA? "And that's why you're now working at a bar" she suggests without skipping a beat. Nodding to Hank, "I'm definitely seeing the BS here." No, Dom's not going to believe that part of the story! Someone that talented wouldn't be waiting tables. They'd be working for SHIELD or something.
Then again… Maybe Hank here should be working with them, too.
It's surprising enough to see the glasses turn into a visor. Okay, it's a neat trick but what purpose does it—
Two gloved hands slap down against the bar as Neena -leaps- off of her stool and puts some space between herself and the large guy. Those shiny eyes are wide open as she stares Hank down as if trying to make up her mind on what the correct response is to the display!
The answer is surprisingly simple: Offer him a job.
The question is voiced before she can give it proper consideration. "You got anything like that for thermal protection? I've got five layers on and I'm -still- cold."
At the mere concept that Hank wants to hear Disturbed, Anya's head literally draws back on her neck, and surprise is written across her face plain as day. "Hey, mi casa es tu casa," she quips, and reaches for her cell phone; Disturbed's cover of 'Land Of Confusion' is now set to play after 'Have A Cigar'. She secretly can't stand the band, but has to admit, it's a good song.
"Mmmmm," Anya muses to Domino. "Maybe." With the cell phone still in hand and a mischievous look on her face, she tucks it back toward herself a little and taps a few commands into it.
The next time Domino opens her phone's preferred web browser app, a new window will be there, linked to a news article from around nine years ago. The news article documents how pro-mutant rights propaganda was scattered over hundreds of NSA files in what appeared to be a data breach; no data was read or taken, but tens of thousands of files were uploaded containing activist material from the anti-registration movement.
Anya's response to this technological display is quite different. Her eyes go wide, and she stalks over, then literally vaults herself over the bar like some kind of Olympic gymnast. "Holy shit!" she exclaims, and closes upon Hank, intent on poking the armor. "Is that nanotech??"
Her eyes dash to Domino and then back to Hank. Her mouth opens, then closes, then does it all over again.
"Like Nina Simone?" Hank asks, shifting to yet another musical styling. "Are you Feeling Good?" He is genuinely just teasing, there's nary a dram of mockery or sarcasm. "Oh, she DID hack the NSA I'm sure. I was just engaging in one of my favorite pastimes - wordplay." A sagenod. "Which is quite different from Coldplay, of course." Yup, another music reference.
In truth Hank /is/ working with S.H.I.E.L.D., not that Dom would know that.
He laughs softly at the reactions from both ladies, interestingly enough they both go jumping about. When domino mentions the heat thing, he looks thoughtful. "Well..I assume you want some sort of full body coverage insulation, were you thinking more of a physical covering or some sort of energy field? Both have interesting elements, very differently implemented of course."
He /laughs/ when Anya hacks Dom's phone, and pulls up the article.
Hank stands with arms and legs akimbo and lets Anya poke the armor to her heart's content. "Nanotech? Well, a smidge, mostly it is made of unstable molecules, the molecular anchor fitted to the visor. It is pretty sturdy, focusing on slashing, piercing and ballistic attacks - mild energy protection as well."
And then he taps a sequence on the air keyboard and it shimmers into visibility along with /three/ virtual screens projected in the air. "I can make it look like anything I want and have a bunch of pre-programmed settings." He taps one, and suddenly he's in regulation Starfleet uniform, science and medical blue of course!
-Cripes- look at Anya go! That is some Grade A bar vaulting right there! Seriously, whoever she is and whatever her background, why is she working -at a bar?- It's the free beer, isn't it? It's gotta be the free beer.
Now Dom doesn't know what to make of EITHER of these two.
The music references go sailing right over the top of Neena's head, all she can do is sit and watch the two whenever they start slinging the lingo at each other.
-Energy field?- One of the albino's brows curves upward while eyeing the broad man, soon leading to a blank shrug. Between the music and the geeking out she is feeling grossly out of her element.
It isn't until Hank mentions that his fancy new armor is rated against ballistic attacks that she -almost- offers to test that theory. Must remember..this is not a merc hangout.
The show doesn't end there. Hank's tapping on virtual keyboards and turning himself into a bulky Trekkie cosplayer (at least she knows where the uniform came from!)
Neena quietly reclaims her seat and looks for her beer. Here's the entertainment, alright. Although the punchline is a little awkward to follow.
"Unstable molecules??" It's a term Anya's never heard of, and the mere concept of it is out of her typical brain space, but it sounds bad. "Hombre." She immediately stops poking, worrying that she might create a black hole or something. "Are you sure you wanna be walking around with something unstable strapped to your face??"
As if momentarily distracted, she reaches into a pocket, retrieves a quarter, and tosses it toward the Swear Jar. She's in debt, and she knows it, but at least she's making payments.
Anya turns to look at Domino, wide eyed and wonderstruck. She turns back toward Hank, and suddenly gasps with glee (amidst a flinch, given aforementioned singularity scare) when he transforms into the Starfleet Blue.
"Seriously, Hank. If you create a singularity in here…"
Seeing how off-put Neena is, Hank nods. "Right then, so, perhaps something in a lightweight polymer? Energy fields require energy SOURCES and that can be awkward." His fingers fly the the ease of a master pianist across his VR keyboard, and he calls up a fairly close model of Neena on one of the screens, and then shows a basic black bodysuit covering from ankles to wrists, and most of her throat. Then gloves appear next to the bodysuited Neena, and boots and even a variety of face masks. "There you go. Some ideas. The polymer is easily manufactured, can be swiftly patched, and protects versus temperature extremes, it is /not/ a sealed environment, though, and only deals with thermal conditions, maintaining your body temperature regardless of ambient temperatures. The light weight version is good for about twenty below, to one-hundred and ten degrees, is nearly weightless, and very…mm…'stretchy', thicker will provide better protection, but decreases mobility."
Yes, this was all done on the fly. No, Neena might not realize, but Anya surely would.
A toothy grin reveals that Hank himself has some fangs, which is interesting. "Oh, they're stable, the name is a bit misleading. Originally invented by Reed Richards, I assure you, Anya, no singularities, or any other mishap - the costume is safe."
He grins as she glees about the TOS costume. "Or it can look like…" He switches back to what he was wearing before, and morphs the visor back into reading glasses, which are then tucked away. "…this."
Domino points at Anya when she mentions the questionable sounding nature of 'unstable molecules,' agreeing in a level tone "What she said. I mean, unstable -anything- is a risky game. I occasionally work with someone who fits that description. Shit gets real interesting."
With the wide-eyed look from Anya she leans over a little and asks in a softer tone "Does this sort of thing happen a lot around here?"
Aaand she's a Trekkie. Of -course- she is! Neena's gone and found a couple of nerds to share drinks with. But hey! Who knows when people like this could become useful!
While the other two geek out a little more the mercenary absently reaches for her phone to do a search on WTF an 'unstable molecule' is when something else catches her interest and dramatically slows down the motion of her thumb for a moment.
The phone is quietly set down. Arms fold together as she leans against the bar. Her full and complete attention is now focused on Anya.
"Don't do that again."
Another surprise is seconds away as Hank starts working out plans right here and now on how to craft something which would fit Neena's entirely vague field of requirements. The models, the description, the matter that he's already figured out the limitations of its protection -in exact numbers-…
At least she isn't jumping to her feet this time. Instead she's staring at the man with her own jaw slightly agape, the beer just about falling right out of her fingers.
"Yeah," she vacantly replies. "That would do."
"Oh you mean the smartest-" Anya stops herself and does a quick course correction. "One of the smartest people on the planet? Maybe he shoulda picked another name that doesn't give us all flashbacks of the LHC scare." Yes, she's a bit salty about being played by Reed Richards' choice of words.
"Sounds like a shit show," Anya remarks when Domino mentions unstable people. "Fun kind? Dangerous kind? You let me know if someone like that ever walks in here, okay? I got good eyes and a mean left hook."
Odds are Domino doesn't have any idea just how mean that left hook can be.
"Okay, so you've got-" she holds up her hands to make the quote marks "- 'unstable molecules' that can reconfigure themselves into pretty much anything. And a VR holographic projection interface that must be the nanotech, and it all fits into reading glasses." She points at Hank a couple of times, then leans back against the bar and rolls her head over toward Domino.
"I actually have a lady boner right now."
This is precisely when Domino opens her phone, and gives her that look. For a brief moment, her expression seems apologetic. It very quickly becomes smug, and she flicks a two fingered salute Domino's way. "You got it, seniorita."
Her eyes turn back to Hank, and she opens her mouth as if to ask something. Her mouth immediately closes, then she finally figures out something to say. "So, when are you inviting me to your lab?"
It is obviously a material he's worked with before, the thermal lining…in his furry form Hank REALLY needed to worry about heat issues, so, yes…he can quote numbers that are pretty exact. As to the body-model, he just tweaked existing files of his friend Isis, she's the closest match to Neena, so again, just some minor mods needed.
Man did he ever make it look easy.
The sudden silence and the pointed commentary to Anya does draw a concerned look, a furrowed brow.
"I work with unstable people sometimes, but this is entirely a dfiferent thing." He sighs at the mention of the LHC scare, and nods. "Oh, he's smarter than I am, no question. Still, I'm not too shabby, you know, if you can't get the best." He's TOTALLY not upset and his smile and body language all support that.
He laughs and blushes a bit, rubbing the back of his neck at the 'lady boner' comment. "Well..there's a problem, the site is secured, and I am not allowed to invite non-mutants to it. I've been considering getting another lab, and a condo as well, in the city proper however, and /that/ lab you'll be welcome at anytime, Anya."
"An apt description but fun enough" Neena admits with a thin smile. "Not -that- kind of fun," she thumbs toward Hank. "Hank's on his own level."
Anya sums up Hank's tech before passing Dom an admission, prompting a deadpanned "I really didn't need to know that."
Hmm… The talk about a secured site only allowing mutants inside is a definite curiosity. "You must be pretty confident in this bar to be flaunting that kind of tech" she suggests while holding a level stare at Hank. Loose lips sink ships and all that. Maybe the guy knows Anya but does he know the albino? Such odds are not likely in his favor.
There's a fair bit to digest. Anya's a hacker. Hank's a ..what, an R&D Tech? Super genius? Yeah, she's gonna go with super genius. And there's the stout. She takes another lengthy drink while considering the situation.
"You seem to be a man of numbers. What would that setup you just described cost? I'm gettin' real tired of being cold and winter's barely gotten any traction."
Business she understands. It's all a matter of perspective.
It's the time of day to unwind, and it brings Thea swinging on into her favorite watering hole. She's had to actually do some 'work' today in fancier climes, so she may be mildly out of place. It isn't as if she gives a shit, and doesn't think anyone else among her 'friends' will either.
Black hair is pulled up into a perfect french twist, anchored by a simple silver implement. Her eyes are neutrally shaded, with only a hint of glitter, lined and mascara-d generously. Lips are lined with precision, candy apple red. The dress is half sleeved, snug knit in a bright cobalt blue that's belted at the waist with a wide black leather number that magnifies her natural measurements. The neckline is a delicate scoop that's modest, the skirt cutting off just above the knee. The heels look painfully high, cobalt with shining silver heel. Silver hoops studded with sapphires sway at her earlobes with her steps. The most delicate of silver chains circle her throat. Meet Corporate Bitch Boss Barbie…err Thea.
She saunters to the bar with that stalking step of a lioness tracking prey, posture fit to please any finishing school mistress. "Anya, my chica, bourbon please? And I'll need something to eat, as well. Taking recommendations."
Hank is the recipient of an expression of dismay. "Bummer," she says, clearly a little upset that she won't be able to see this magical place of scientific heaven.
There's absolutely no more discussion around Anya's presumed lady boner.
With Domino and Hank moving into business, Thea's arrival is perfectly timed. "Whoa, hey there, Miss Boardroom." She slides around behind the bar with a grin, and gets to work at pouring Thea a bourbon. "I've got just the thing, you sit tight."
She moves into the back room, and calls to the cook, "Hey, make me another, will ya?" When she emerges, she's carrying Hank's order; barbecue ribs and chicken, with all the fixin's; collards, baked beans and cornbread. "You want malt vinegar for those greens?" she asks Hank with a grin.
"Fun is what you allow it to be, I find it is generally best to take it as it comes." It is a measure of Hank's nerdnossity that the possible salacious interpretation of what he just said, in all innocence, might generate.
And then Domino gives him that level stare and warning. Eyes of bright blue focus on her, she can almost /feel/ his full attention on her, can almost SEE the thoughts racing, might be a tad concerning. "Well it hardly seems an efficient use of your time to shoot me when you're trying to solicit my aid for a very real problem you can't at present solve for yourself." He quirks a brow, head canted at a faint angle. "Are you planning on shooting me perhaps? Consider that I /have/ armor, and based on my appearance, my mass, the way I move - do you really want to mark yourself as a threat?"
Hank IS rather a confident fellow, it seems.
And then she shifts gears, and he smiles faintly. "For the suit itself, and a half dozen patch kits I could make it for $x.00, it would take about three days." Where X is a surprisingly low number.
He gently rests a hand on Anya's shoulder when he sees her dismay, and he sighs. "I agree. On all points."
Hank offers a smile to the new arrival, and then ooh, FOOD! He pours himself some more beer, and grins at Anya. "Of COURSE malt vinegar, I'm not a savage."
There's a voice Neena knows all too well. A lax spin about the barstool and she's looking at a dolled up Thea. "-Damn- it's gonna take a while to get used to seeing you like this. Business is good, I assume?" Smirking, she adds "I'm also starting to wonder if you live here."
Then comes the look from Hank along with the warning. Neena's demeanor very quickly changes, holding up two empty hands. "Whoa whoa whoa, let's just -step it back- a little here Doc. Who said anything about shooting you? Where'd you even get the impression that I -had- a gun?"
She in fact has TWO guns but no one else needs to know that nor should they be aware of this detail at the moment. Considering the number of layers they're currently buried beneath she's virtually unarmed, anyway!
"I'm just saying, this is a public space and it's the age of smartphones and the internet. As Anya here has more than proven," she flicks a hand toward the arachniwaitress. "Gosh, am I that threatening? It's the spot, isn't it? It's always the spot." Surely not the weird eyes or the pointy teeth or the 'I'm gonna raze this place to the ground' attitude. Nah, none of that.
"Here's what I'm gonna do" she says while pulling out a ..wallet. Some bills get slapped onto the counter to cover her tab (it seems she might be planning to add to it today) and another handful gets handed toward Hank. "Take this damn chill away."
There is a quick smile and a tip of her head back for the big guy at the bar. Then she's laughing at Dom, leaning in for a casual hug. "You mean to seeing me clean, clothed, and with accessories?" There's a quick, mischevious grin. "Oh, business is business. I had to go spend a chunk of my day with investment brokers. Which I assure you, is the most insulting /and/ boring thing I've done in ages. Because certainly a pretty young thing like me couldn't /possibly/ hold a thought in her head long enough to know where her money should go and what she wants to do with it." There is a definite roll of blue eyes, at that. She will lean in, to whisper into the albino's ear. "I don't have the impression you have a gun. I know it."
There's another snicker as she eases back and up onto the next stool over. She glances at Domino. "The chill away? You having issues with the winter?" She'll ask, picking up her bourbon for a long swallow.
With a grin of approval, Hank's malt vinegar is gladly provided. The conversation between Neena and Hank, however, has Anya looking on with a sudden sort of vigilance that does not add up with her normal demeanor.
"I mean, there's a sign." She gestures toward the door, where a 'no firearms' icon is clearly indicated. To Anya, this seems good enough. Considering the bar's owner, one would have to be either really stupid or very confident to bring a piece in here.
Grabbing a glass, she pours herself a tequila on ice, and then grabs a couple of bills from her tip money to pay back what she owes to the Swear Jar.
"Hey," she says in regard to Domino's jibe. "Just proving a point. Totally harmless." A twinkle of mirth flashes in her eyes, before they're rolling at Thea. "I think I'd rather eat dog shit."
Her eyes dart to the swear jar again, and she produces an exasperated sigh. Marching over, she grabs it and shoves it out of sight. "Anyone tells Luke, they're gonna get my foot in their ass."
"Well, when you jumped from the chair a few moments ago I could the tensing of your hands as you controlled the urge to go for a gun, I would posit that you're both ambidextrous, you've shown yourself to be quite agile - not surprising in light of the obvious feline characteristics, further, you speak with assurance - the way your hands tensed were in keeping with the sort of motion a master of the quick draw would have moved, therefore - yes - I think you might be packing." Hank smiles then. "Elementary, Miss Neena."
He does make sure the two ladies can hug without worrying about his considerable bulk, and then he looks at the wad of cash. "And where shall I deliver the goods? I'm assuming you don't want to exchange digits, especially since you're going to be getting rid of that phone at your earliest opportunity seeing how it was compromised, or so I'd presume." This with a glance to Anya. "So…where would you like me to drop it?" He asks turning that blue eyed and so deceptively guileless gaze back to Neena.
Hank manages not to blush at the mention of nudity so openly, and then adds. "Well, you /are/ rather attractive and well dressed." And then he frowns. "And men that assume pretty precludes the possibility of brains need to wake the heck up." He's known way way too many smart women, in fact, some of the smartest people he's ever met were women.
He returns that grin to Anya, along with a wink as he sprinkles the greens with the stuff, and then digs in with unabashed gusto. He finishes off his beer, and then empties the pitcher and slides it forward for a refill. At the dog shit eating ref, Hank just looks over to Anya. "Sorry, no Pink Flamingos here, Divine." Okay, obscure John Waters reference made, he shrugs a little. "Sorry, my brain is…odd. Movie refs a specialty."
Dom returns Thea's hug then points at the fancier-dressed lady. "That. Exactly that. I may have had a transformation back there but you've -absolutely- had one since we've returned. Eugh, yeah… I know the type. That explains cutting straight to the whiskey."
The only reaction Thea gets with the whispered comment is a mischievous little smile. There's the biokinetic being dead on target, as always.
"Haven't you been feeling it? Ever since we got back I've been freezing my white ass off. Got the heater cranked in the car, feels like I can never get warm again."
Hey wait, there's a sign? Oh hey, there's a sign! Dom doesn't make anything of it at the risk of making herself seem guilty as charged but there's a certain irony now tugging at the back of her mind. "That's a curious restriction in a world full of superpowers."
'Totally harmless.' "I'm sure the NSA thought the same" Neena teases Anya. When the swear jar disappears she barks out a laugh! "Atta girl."
Hank is ..disturbingly on point. Those silvery masked blue eyes turn right back onto the broad shouldered man and remain laser focused as he explains all of the bits and pieces which he had picked up in short order. She never looks angry or upset but the tension is in her shoulders. She doesn't appreciate anyone sticking their noses where they don't belong.
Neena retains eye contact when asking Anya "Are cookies on the menu? This guy just earned himself one."
"Three days, right? I'll meet you here. Same time."
Thea will flat out laugh at Anya's claim of being totally harmless, another swallow of bourbon. "Sign? What sign?" Her expression is sincere, wide eyed innocence - but she is also armed, despite the outfit.
Blue eyes will look at Hank, with a certain degree of suspicion. "Could not her motions also be evidence of hyper-vigilance of someone who has recently suffered some significant trauma that they would need to defend themselves from?" Which is certainly the case for both her and Neena.
And theeeen the eyebrow arches, her expression damn near ice queen perfection. "While I do appreciate the compliment, I'm not sure you understand. She is much more used to seeing me bedraggled, in near rags, and without the benefit of my favorite beauty supplies. And yes, they're incredibly stupid, but it's too soon for me to start rocking the boat in regards to the money I'm investing. I think next time I'll be treated with a little more respect."
She looks at Domino with a small, warm smile for the albino. "Not really, you know. This is honestly who I am, when I'm not…stranded away from what I would consider civilization. Anya has known me a while, she can confirm I'm usually dressed well, or at least appropriately." There's a shrug. "Well, you know I have methods of warming myself up, right?" Not the bourbon, or anything else external. Just her powers. "But yes, I have noticed a sharper sensitivity to the colder temperatures. It's to be expected. Your blood runs thinner when you're exposed to warmer climates for extended periods of time." Like 4 years in hell.
Anya's eyes dance from Domino to Hank, to Thea, then back to Hank, then back to Domino.
"No cookies," she quips. "But the Shitty Nachos are actually kinda good."
Reaching over, she dumps the pitcher into the wash bin and grabs another, in order to give Hank a refill. "Science brains are weird," she says with a grin. "I totally get it."
Anya looks between Domino and Thea; she's already put it together, but the more Thea speaks, the more she finds confirmation. "Mierda," she curses under her breath, and promptly grasps three more shotglasses. Bourbon goes into all three, and they are slid over to Hank, Domino and Thea in turn. "I had no idea," she says quietly toward Neena; her deep brown eyes are a mixture of empathy and stalwart respect.
"On the house," she says, and then offers her shot glass filled with tequila for a toast.
"To warming up."
There's a sign, not that Hank is one to tote a gun, pretty much ever. He can't help but snicker at the reference to the NSA, and then adds. "Mostly harmless, then? Hopefully we'll not be getting visited by a Vogon construction fleet, because that would suck."
The smile fades when it is his turn to be on the receiving end of a gimlet stare. "I like cookies." He admits, and really, why is Neena so upset? She DID ask why he thought she might be packing heat, he wasn't poking his nose anywhere, she ASKED.
Hank meets Thea's gaze, and then nods. "They could, but the specific motions, and the sequencing of them still indicate an expert with firearms, and likely quick draw. Add to the mix that it was both hands at the same time and that supports the ambidexterity, especially considering how difficult it is to fire two guns with any accuracy, despite what the movies would have us believe." A firm nod. "I stand by my assessment and add - there's no reason it can't be both trauma induced hyper-vigilance /and/ considerable weapons training and expertise, they are not mutually exclusive."
Amused by Anya's display of watching tennis or ping-pong, Hank smiles to the woman. "Thank you." For the beer. "And yes, science brains are in fact weird."
Hank is surprised by the shot, but hey, shots are good sometimes and bourbon does go nicely with barbecue. "To Warming Up!" Hank toasts. "I'll buy the next round." He adds after they drink.
Thea's question to Hank in regards to trauma does bring a dark glint to Neena's eyes. She seems aware of it happening as in the same instant she's looking away from Hank and turning back to the bar to stare instead at what remains of her stout. Which isn't much. The last of it disappears without fanfare.
The following explanation may be at Thea's expense but it's a welcomed shift away from the previous subject. "We've walked a few miles in each other's boots" is all Dom has to add to the topic.
Chuckling softly, Neena confirms "I know you have methods. In that regard I'm not so lucky." It's also possible that she was 'harder hit' by the affliction due to the artifact around her neck.
Something which Thea says shifts the atmosphere around Anya. Dom's seen a couple different sides to the waitress but this angle is a first. As the three shots are passed out the pale lady raises hers in a silent cheers then tips it back.
"Thea's a good one to know when she's not being a total bitch," the albino teases. "And speaking of," she turns to look at the biokinetic. "We should connect sometime." If for no other reason than to see how Thea's been holding up. Dom has some suspicions.
True enough, she did ask Hank. Only after he had let on that he already knew, however! It could be considered that she's more upset about him being so incredibly observant than anything. It's almost like having a psychic skimming surface thoughts. It's -really hard- not to when they're -right there- but it still irritates the subject individual. Some abilities don't come with an off switch.
As Hank further explains his thoughts on the matter to Thea Domino rooolls her eyes and releases a slow breath, once again reaching for her wallet and counting out five Jacksons to pass to Hank under the counter. Let's just keep this all on the down low, yeah?
"So, how about that new year? It took a while but ol' Anno Domini's finally getting average eyesight."
Thea's eyes are on Hank again, after the toast to warming up. She will lean into Domino. "Anya knows. She noticed some things about me were different." She whispers, before she's straigtening up. "I meant that the reflex could be because of trauma recent enough to make her want to reach for a gun, versus actually being armed." Of course, Thea herself would not likely make those same motions. Her first weapon doesn't require any movement.
"Yes, but when am I not?" Thea asks Neena airily, as if she truly is always a bitch. "But Anya knows that well enough." There's a faint shrug. "We should get together soon. Junk food binge, and a bull shit session. Sounds fun." Which it does, to Thea!
Recent trauma? Check; though nothing near to the same degree as Thea, and apparently Neena also, have gone through. Empathy requires shared experience, though, and that, Anya has.
Given that Hank is buying the next round, Anya goes on with refilling Neena's stout, and getting yet another bourbon ready for Thea. She then excuses herself for the back room, only to return with Thea's order; the same as Hank's.
"Best barbecue in Harlem," she offers with a grin, and sets the meal down before the well dressed woman.
"Speaking of the New Year…" She looks among the three gathered, considering what she's about to say. "Watch your six. Word on the street is, something weird might go down." She lifts her hands in a defensive manner. "I know, it's New York, weird follows the morning coffee, but. Y'know. Trust me on this one."
A blink at the money from Domino, and then he shakes his head. Body language eloquent of 'not needed', and gently grips her wrist if she permits, and puts the money back in her hand, folding her fingers closed over it as he mimes zipping his lips and then crosses his heart.
"It sounds like you two have some history." Hank says. "I apologize if my observations were offensive or unsettling." She DID ask though! Totally asked.
Hank nods to Thea. "Ah, that's a valid point." It is clear Hank has more thoughts on the subject, but does not voice them.
"You do not seem like a bitch." Hank observes mildly. "Staunch defender of your friend, but not a bitch."
Completely out of this loop, Hank has no frame of reference, still, he can see that the three ladies all do.
He grins to Anya. "Best in the state, I'd wager, possibly on the Eastern Seaboard." A blink at the weirdness comment, and then he chuckles. "Weird? In New York? Only on days ending with a 'Y'."
Neena leans toward Thea almost at the same moment that Thea leans toward Neena, seemingly able to read the other woman as soon as she's in motion. The biokinetic's words are heard while Dom's looking at Anya. She had a feeling given the sudden change of heart but having this confirmation merely causes the mercenary to nod once. If Thea trusts Anya with this information then Dom won't contest it.
The seriousness disappears soon enough. "It's part of your charm." Being a bitch! As for the bullshit session, "We'll make it happen."
And then Anya's attitude changes again..and again. While absently reaching for the new stout, Dom says "Wow, unexpected heaviness incoming. 'Something weird' covers a whole lot of territory."
Hank's refusal to take the hush money leaves Dom glancing his way with an arched brow. The silent assurance which he gives her is also given one of those light nods as the smaller wad of bills nonchalantly migrates back into one of her pockets.
"It's cool. We're all pals here. And when I call her a bitch I do so in a 'fondest of friends' way possible," she assures Hank with a lopsided smile. "We've also had ample time to bicker at one another. Kind of a miracle we're both still here."
Hank's call of days ending in Y has the pale lady cackling again! "I'll wear my finest armor for the occasion. In the meantime I'm gonna put this beer in its place then march onward. Three days, Hank. Assuming the new year's weirdness doesn't catch up to me I'll be here."
Thea will stop and stare at the food. "I'm sorry, this is for me and what small army?" She will joke, as she shifts a little on her stool. She slides money on the bar from her cargo garter, assessing all the food. "Mind passing the vinegar?" She will say to Hank. But she has to pinch off a bite of cornbread first. Like RIGHT NOW.
There is a laugh. "Oh, I can be a bitch. I can be multiple kinds of bitch, as this one can tell you." A tip of her head towards the albino. Whom she blows a kiss when she's told her bitchness is part of her charm. "Leaving me already? I see how you are." But the biokinetic isn't really hurt. "There were times we did want to kill each other."
There's a smirk, as she glances at Anya. "I need more napkins." No messing up her blue Boss Bitch dress. She will dig into those beans, with a content little sigh of the hungry getting fed.
"Don't worry," Anya tells Thea, grinning. "We've got doggie bags." She'll snatch up a stack of napkins and slide them over toward Thea happily.
"Go check out the social media feeds on Central Park, yesterday," she tells Domino. "I think you'll catch my drift." Her eyes twinkle again with that characteristic mischief. "Gonna have to do it yourself, a promise is a promise."
As for Hank's compliment, Anya grins widely, showing some of her pearly whites. "I'll pass that along to the boys. Can't inflate their egos too much, y'know?"
"Three days, here, this time." Hank repeats, and then there's a buzzing sound from his pocket, and he digs out his cellphone. "Anya…" He reads what on the phone. "Whatever these ladies want I'll cover." And then he rises, snatching up his last bit of cornbread before passing the malt vinegar to Thea. "Forgive me all, there's a situation I need to deal with." And with that heads out of the bar post haste - if anyone watches, they'll see the guy using all four limbs to sprint off at nearly highway speeds!
Guess something came up.