2012-11-29 Three Wishes From Dazzler

So basically, Pete was planning on meeting up with Romany and managing to make it sound to himself that she wanted to meet up with /him/, and obviously in a bar because he always needs alcohol to deal with her-- but now he's been witness to a dickwaving contest between Nick Fury and a teenaged girl, so he's running late. Because now he's giving the teenaged girl a lift down from the Helicarrier (and evaluating her as a potential future agent despite the explosions). It was also really an impressive display of ice and temper and foot-in-mouth, so -- /as he does/ -- he reflexively takes the person having a bad day to the bar with him.

Problem is she's seventeen and this is New York City. "You've got a fake ID, right?" Pete asks Kitty as he parks the goddamn flying car on the roof of some bar in Chelsea. "If not we can probably swing something, but you obviously need a drink, and I'm meeting a crazy old woman here and I'm actually -late-."

To her credit, Kitty did not cry. Immediately following the interview, that was a very real possibility, when that strange emotional heat had flooded her face. She had never--never--had an interview of any sort go that bad ever. She lost her cool, which is really not her, but she felt mostly justified. The fact that Pete was willing to rant about what a giant jerkdouche Fury was helped calm her down.

The fact he took her to a bar wins him a few brownie points as well. "Not...really necessary," she admits softly before sliding out of the aircar, eyeing the rather impressive vehicle before looking back towards Pete. "But any drinks are on you. Between the lack of ID and the whole bar showing up on my balance report issue, my parents might just kill me." She doesn't sound like she's exaggerating. "Anyway, see you on the inside," she says, before she walks to the edge of the roof, looks over...and steps off, slowly descending to the ground by giving the air around her feet a light push and pull. For all the world, it looks like she's floating down until she's out of sight for the SHIELD agent.

Eyebrows, up. And no, Not A Word from Pete Wisdom. There's no audience to appreciate it right now anyway-- and besides, ... besides. Kitty taught him a new word combination today, and that always wins points. Jerkdouche! So, the aircar gets locked up, and seconds later, the Briton's vaulting over the side of the building and clattering relatively cheerfully down the fire escape.

There's very little that's more mundanely exhilaratingly fun than riding the last part of a fire escape down to the ground when you're not in the middle of escaping or chasing.

Soonest, the suit-clad man's pushing in the door and taking off his sunglasses, giving the bouncer a half-assed mock salute, and scanning for any sign of his sister. Or Kitty, for that matter. The scan, of course, happens *while* he's walking over to the actual bar to shove himself between people and order.

Kitty's isn't visible at first, though the bar isn't exactly empty either. But eventually, the slightly shorter high school student pushes her way through the crowd towards the bar. Yes, she's getting a few double-takes, but hey, she's already in, so she must have gotten cleared by the bouncers, right?

As Wisdom makes himself comfy at the bar, Kitty seems to literally slip through the crowd with much ease, eventually more or less appearing at his side. "So...this one of your regular...haunts?" she asks, trying to sound as totally cool about this whole thing. She is very bad at that. "So this lady we're meeting...she a lady friend, or you know, a 'lady friend'." Cue groucho eyebrow wiggling.

"Didn't tell me you had a date." The voice shares an accent with Pete's, but the syllables are casually clipped, as if the entire concept of conversation were an inconvenient distraction from something highly urgent in a strange direction. The woman it belongs to flanks Wisdom on his other side; her own movement through the crowd drew startlingly little attention, for a ... six-foot woman in a fringed purple jacket. Not as graceful as Kitty's, but practiced -- she's wearing waist-length black hair loose and it hasn't gotten caught on anyone. Takes a bit of talent. A moment's pause as she regards Kitty. "Much less two. Or just a friend? Must be, she doesn't /look/ homicidal."

"CHRIST," Pete interrupts whatever he was opening his mouth to reply to Kitty, flinching fairly hardcore for a tough superspy jerkface. He holds a hand up as if to ward Romany off, sliding one drink to Kitty and then putting his card on the bar. "Give us a tab, love?" he asks the girl on the other side, and she whisks his card away. "Answer you first, Pryde: it's close to my flat, so yeah. And the nutter we're meeting is neither a lady nor a friend, and she's absolutely not a lady friend. It's *her*." Thumb over shoulder. "My sister, Romany. Romy, this is Kitty Pryde, we just came from my boss being Very Old and a bit of a twat to her. So be nice."

"Should have seen me about 20 minutes ago," Kitty mutters out of the side of her mouth as she glances over the taller woman, trying her best to not feel suddenly and incredibly small. She glances towards Wisdom, assuming this is the 'Old Lady' he mentioned them meeting up with, only now question why, exactly, she's here. Then the word tab is mentioned, and she is reminded: drinks.

She offers a slightly, snappy salute towards the woman she now knows as Romany. "I would say something nice about your brother, but I just met him and mostly we've been bad-mouthing One-Eye Mouthbreather." She pauses, looking for something. "He sure can drive an aircar, which I didn't know existed yesterday. If we're taking orders, I'll have a Moosehead." Living the same house with Logan, you learn to appreciate Canadian microbrewery. "Um, if not that, a Strongbow will do. 'Spose."

"Quite all right. If you said anything nice about my brother, I might have to call an ambulance." There's the shadow of a compressed smile, and Romany lifts the glass she's carrying to Kitty an inch or two before she adds, "Understand they like to look over concussion victims here, and all that. Good not to have to worry."

Then Romany transfers her attention to Pete, regarding him calmly through her glasses lenses, and waits politely till his conversation with the woman at the bar is /quite/ complete. And then she speaks only one word to him. "... Aircar."

"Moosepunk it is, but you're going to have to drink that first, since it's already there," Wisdom points out to Kitty, literally pointing at the drink he'd slid over toward her as soon as she appeared. It's the color and smell of a vodka and red bull, so it's probably a vodka and red bull. Then he makes a FACE at Romany. "Look, if your company car flew, you'd learn to fly it. But you don't HAVE a company car. Because you don't have a COMPANY. And you probably traded your ability to drive for three wishes or some other bollocks. Are you having anything or are you just going to stand there like a scarecrow?"

Which, naturally, is when yet another female voice from somewhere in the bar calls out "WISDOM!" Oddly enough, it sounds friendly rather than murderous. Enthusiastically friendly, even!

Which just about describes Alison Blaire to a T - because she's suddenly THERE, clapping her hand on Pete's back like a long-lost bud. "Who knew you had it in you? That song you gave me is /the top Pop song on iTunes/ this week! I mean, we're 20th over-all but still! Isn't it AWESOME?"

Rifling through the pockets of her leather jacket, she whips out a check and practically presses it into his hands. "The first bit of your cut! As long as it keeps selling, those'll keep coming!" Alison looks very nearly like she's contemplating kissing him like an eager European, but somehow... that vibe just doesn't seem to jive.

Looking at Romany, Ali then looks back at Pete. "Sister?" And then Kitty, and then back at Pete; mouths without volume, "Nice."

"Head," Kitty quietly corrects as she looks down at the drink. She blinks at it, as if it just appeared out of nowhere. She lifts it, sniffs, eyes Wisdom cautiously and then takes a long sip from the straw provided. "Mmm, tasty," she says at the tarty-tangy-kinda-medicinal taste.

And then Dazzler appears. Like out of nowhere. And it is only because she's like a totally super cool X-Woman that Kitty doesn't drop her drink at the sudden celebrity appearance, looking around to make sure this isn't some weird, overly long dream and it's all about to unravel before her.

Due to all this, it takes Kitty a few moments to have it sink in exactly what Dazzler is saying. Her eyes flicker between the two of them, and then the giggle start. The high-pitched, gleefully girlish giggles. She is eventually able to get out "You wrote Dazzle Me?" before falling into another peal of laughter. She takes another long sip of her drink before adding, mostly to herself, "This is awesome."

"No, little brother, I just save my soul-selling for things a bit more significant than the Whomobile." Romany's tone occupies that place exactly at the junction of matter-of-fact and affectionate hair-ruffling. "Also, bought my own." Or was that 'brought my own'? The glass she's holding involves something green and faintly cloudy; she does not rest it on Pete's head for emphasis. (What is moosepunk, anyway? Dystopian, alienated Canadian SF?)

... and then: Dazzler. Romany's gray-blue eyes move to the new arrival, back to Pete, back to the new arrival, over to Kitty, back to Pete, with three blinks interspersed, and for Pete every one of those blinks probably has the sound of the Cloister Bell ringing attached.

Not a word. Until after the contents of her glass are rather suddenly downed, she says perfectly mildly to Pete, "Cancel that. Vodka."

Pete is like unto a deer in headlights in the middle of a hurricane. His eyes are wide, and he is *staring* at-- no, cancel that, getting MOOSHED by-- Alison Blaire. And she's pushing a check at him. And she's ADMITTING WHAT IT'S FOR. And. In front of. A teenager. And /Romany/. Oh god. God. No. He is never going to--

"Luckily, Life Model Decoys can have their own checking accounts. You're /perfectly/ welcome, Blaire. Anything to help fund the crack team of mercenaries I'm dragging to Latveria."

Dazzler just laughs, clapping Pete on the shoulder again, "Aaahhh, I love this guy." Romany doesn't particularly need to be responded to - or confirmed. Clearly, she and Pete are related. Hotcha. So instead, Ali beams at Kitty.

"He totally did! I mean, when he handed me the thing I was MUY skeptical - but the lyrics are spot on and the producers had a ball in the studio with the arrangements and hooks and... seriously, I think we've already got a few local popular DJs working on remixes! I'm STOKED!"

Which of course means now she's got to blow on out like the proverbial storm she rode in with. "Call me later, Pete - I wanna show you what I've got for the stuff for CBGBs!"

She has the audacity to blow a kiss before she departs.

The smile on Kitty's face, it may never go out. Like ever. Ever ever. But for now she's still not entirely unconvinced that she's not having just a really rad dream, and at this point she's just kinda rolling with it. "Oh, I believe it. He strikes me a pop music genius." She glances towards Romany, lifting her drink. "There you go, another positive: he's a pop. Music. Genius." More giggles overtake the girl, stifling them by quickly slurping up the rest of her drink.

And then the sound of R2D2 emits from her purse. Blinking a few times, Kitty reaches down and pulls out her smartphone. Her face twists in a slight expression of disappointment. "Gonna have to make my exit stage left as well, last train back out to Westchester is in an hour, and if I miss it, it's my head." She looks up just to see her beer arriving at the bar. She quickly scoops it up, throwing her head back and downing the drink in a few mighty gulps. "Thanks for a fun time, Wisdoms. Hope to catch you two around town." She raises her hand to give a two-finger peace salute before turning and quickly making her way through the crowd. Attentive eyes may notice her eventually exit out the back. Note, that is an exit that doesn't use a door. Wordlessly watching Dazzler with this look of tight, horrible impending doom whitewashed with a pasted-on thinlipped little smile, and stiffly waving, then actively grimacing at Kitty as she bounces out, Pete just turns, finally, on the barstool he's claimed. After a second, he lifts a hand to the bar girl and grimly flags her down. /Lots/ of vodka.