2013.05.15 - Bullets to Biscuits

Bludhaven. It's one of those places. Domino's done plenty of work around the area before, what with the 'relaxed' laws and all. She could also find much better watering holes than this awful tavern, but there's something else keeping her here today.

Throw a dart at a map, tell me where it lands.

Once again she's starting to become part of something bigger. Something ..'more.' Her dart landed upon Bludhaven, though she doesn't know where, or what day, or what time. There's something out here that should somehow connect back to the job. The only way anyone will find anything is if they're paying attention. That's easier to do from the area in question rather than from the other side of the globe.

So, Domino's here. The rum flows freely. It's as close to her happy place as she's likely to get out here.

Tracking her down was -something-. Having a cell phone number enabled tracing, and tracing wasn't a problem with SHIELD resources. Giving her time to cool down, on the other hand, -was- a problem, and Roy cooled his heels a little bit before leaving Madripoor.

Now outside the watering hole that was Domino's current spot, Roy is adopting the out-in-the-open approach, choosing to be -himself-. Roy Harper, somewhat scruffy and pretty much wearing casual not-likely-to-be-mistaken-for-GQ clothing, was going to just go right in there, and seat himself at the bar, right next to Domino.

"So..." Roy says. "I hear you're looking for new work."

Not a whole lot has changed about the albino. She's still ornery, still closed off. Still stupidly well armed. But, she's left the trench and the armor behind in favor of black biking leathers. They make a lot more sense when one discovers that she's been tearing around the city on a brand new bike, too. Blue sunglasses sit atop her head. A black tank beneath the jacket shows a bit more white flesh than what the armor tended to reveal.

"If you're recruiting for SHIELD you can stuff it," she replies in a flat tone, not even looking up from the worn table to see who's joining her. She knows who it is. "You've got balls coming after me, Harper. Frankly I'm amazed that you've got any left with the company you keep."

She's debating drawing a gun and changing the matter here and now. At the very least she might need to destroy her phone. -Again.- Technology, nothing but a pain in her backside since day one.

"Not for SHIELD," Roy says quietly, as he orders a beer. "Besides, you know me, too stupid and too stubborn to know better." There's an ironic tone in his voice, perhaps because he's put forth exactly -that- attitude too often to Domino.

"And Contact's only letting me keep mine because she's told me to fix it or not come back," Roy adds, leaning back, hands going to his pockets, looking for all the world like he was having a nice, simple conversation with a friend.

There's a quiet, forced sound of amusement, briefly accompanied by a thin smirk from Dom's blackened lips. "To fix what, -this?- The hell does she want me back for? It's clear that you're a big boy, you can cover your own ass. You don't need me and all she could want me for is the cheap labor she's been squeezing out of me since I first set foot back into that country."

One black-nailed fingertip traces the rim of one of several glasses laid out around her side of the table, collecting herself for a moment before she finally makes eye contact with you. "Bit of professional advice, kiddo. Madripoor is the kind of trap that only leads down. Get out while you can."

There's a short brusque laugh. "Are you -kidding- me? She doesn't trust me as much as you think," Roy admits, as he straightens up when his beer order is dropped off with a thud on the table, foam slopping around on the table.

Grabbing his beer, and taking a swig of it, Roy grins a bit. "Besides, I'd rather have you covering my ass. You know as well as I do that -woman-..." And the look in his eyes indicates he's not talking about Belikova. "That woman is up to -something- in Madripoor. I'm not gonna back away from it. Got to find out what's going on there."

-That- woman. Yeah. Domino knows who you're referring to. Truth of the matter is that she's going to have to go back to that part of the globe sooner or later, anyway. She's already caught up with the Baroness, herself.

"I know she doesn't trust you, she's kept you on a short leash for as long as I've seen."

Sigh. Covering your ass. That is one of the problems here. Despite the falling out between the two, they -do- work well together. For someone that always prefers to lone wolf everything, that's really saying something. And, hell. It's not like she hasn't kept secrets from you. She still is. Lots of them! What the hell did she want from you, an apology? What would that change?

No. What bothers her the most is that she didn't see it coming. She should have, but she missed it. You're an idiot, a pain in the ass, obnoxious, and you never know when to quit. Somehow, against all of the odds, she's started to see you as more than an ally.

"Understand something, Roy. Pushing your luck is not the best course of action. Pushing -my- luck is a helluva lot worse. You keep going that route, you keep spending time around me, you're going to get burned. That's just the nature of things. It can't be avoided and you'll never see it coming. You really want to risk those kinds of odds against -her?-"

"Ehh... Contact's seen me do some -really- stupid stunts," Roy says, taking a swig of his beer, before glancing back at Domino. "I get out okay, but I'm cutting it too close for her liking, and she doesn't -trust- me around pretty faces."

Motioning the bottle towards Domino, Roy motions. "She would never have approved you if she'd known. She tends to make do with what happens -after-. Thinks I'm a loose cannon, so she keeps me reined in."

Grinning, Roy lifts his bottle at Domino. "Yeah, well... we've gotten burned, but you know... that's the life we choose, didn't we? C'mon. You know better than I that -you- give us the best chance of dealing with -that- crazy city. So... dealing with -her-? C'mon. Risk is our business."

"Haven't we all," Domino mutters around the rim of her glass when you talk about having done stupid stunts. "If she doesn't trust you then why does she care if you cut it close? Either you're expendable to her or you're not. There isn't a middle ground there."

More rum goes down the hatch. The glass gets set aside then refilled yet again with barely a thought put toward the actions.

"You -are- a loose cannon. Damnitall if I can't hate you for it because I'm one, too." The words are slightly slurred, though it isn't the alcohol talking. One arm stays folded across the table, the other propped up on an elbow as she rubs at her face.

You're an idiot, Domino.

"You do realize that our trigger-happy terrorist friend is going to use us against each other, right? She knows there's a ..professional connection between us. I'm not acting anywhere near as independently as I'd like to be on this run. We're both compromised before we get our foot through the damned door. That's worse odds for both of us."

"Ehhh... Contact's bark is a -lot- worse than her bite. She's pretty much the way she is because she -cares-, and hates herself for it," Roy sighs, studying the beer bottle, before downing the rest of the drink and tapping the bottle against the table for another one with a meaningful look towards the waitress. "If she were anyone else, she wouldn't -give- a damn whether our lives were wasted or not."

Sighing, Roy rests his cheek against a balled up fist. "Yeah, well, the best way to deal with her is to keep her thinking she can keep -us- under control." A smirk crosses his face. "It's -easy- to be a horndog. It's a lot harder to keep her thinking that she can keep me on a leash, though. You notice how vain she can get? Keep her focusing on trying to control, and she might let other things slip past..."

"She did aim a gun at my face a couple of times," Domino simply replies. Occupational hazard. Though the bit about hating herself for caring, that strikes just a smidge too close to home for the albino's liking.

''You've already gotten over all of this, haven't you. Maybe. Not ready to forgive him just yet.''

"Who are you doing this for, Roy?" she suddenly inquires, pale blue eyes staring back at you. "All for Beli? She wouldn't have you working with Ana, she'd tell you to gun her down and move on. You're not doing this for your benefactors. So. Who?"

"Me, mostly," Roy sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I -want- to know what's going on with that woman. And I've never been one for just... well, if we can do this -without- casualties..."

And yes, that goes to show Roy -is- a dreamer.

"I'm -not- working with that woman. I'm just getting close enough to know what's going on. If she's going to do anything, I need her to -think- that I'm available for... whatever she wants. To find out if she's behind what we're after, or not," Roy says, as he grabs the fresh new bottle of beer from the waitress, and swigs. "It doesn't matter, really. We know what she wants with you, and we're still sorting out what she'd want with -me-. And she's probably got specific ideas on how to control us, right?"

"Okay," Domino cuts in with a raised palm. "If you've got some pipedream of doing this -without- casualties, you're talking to the wrong woman. Remember who you're talking to, Harper."

"This is where we run different paths. If she wants me to do something then I'm going to do it and I'm going to get paid. No running off to tell Big Brother what she's up to. I'm gonna ride this one out, play a close hand, and wait for my window." If a window ever comes. Hell, maybe she won't even want to act if she does happen to get her chance. She's kinda waiting to see what happens on that front.

"I'm doing this for myself, also." The thing about terrorists? They tend to pay well.

"I said -if-, Dommie," Roy grins. "I'm not -that- damned idealistic. You have me mixed up with Green Arrow."

Taking a swig, Roy arches an eyebrow at Domino. "Heh... that's what Contact told me, you know. That you'd do things for the highest bidder. And that's just the way things are. Because you're a -realist-.

Another swig of the beer. "But you know... you're not -that- cold-hearted as you try to be. Otherwise you wouldn't have -agreed- to join me with no guarantee of being paid. That came -after- you hooked up with Contact, right?"

Grinning widely, Roy motions at Domino. "Face it, we're doing this for ourselves, or at least that's what we're telling ourselves, but you know... I think neither of us can give up -that- life. It's the adrenaline rush we live for, isn't it?"

"That's not necessarily true," Domino starts to counter. You've caught her off guard before, now maybe she can do the same to you. Turnabout's fair play. "I'm not all about the paycheck. It doesn't come down to which sociopathic bitch offers me more for my time."

Not that she's going to tell you what the difference is. Screw that!

As soon as you bring up her initial reasons for joining you out that way her tone changes, going cold. "Drop it, Harper."

Anger soon bleeds out into weariness. "Yeah. That about sums it up. Speaking of, give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you dead right now?" It's possible that she's still a bit sore after what happened back there.

"... I ain't got one," Roy says, as he orders another bottle of beer. "I'm a pain in the ass, I keep getting you into scrapes, and you're totally -pissed- off at me because you figure I'm using you."

After a few seconds, as a -pitcher- of beer is brought, along with glasses this time, the waitress having apparently decided this would be easier, Roy fills the glasses and passes one along to Domino. "Thing is... you know, I believe in you. I figure it's a damn freakin' waste, so why not see just how good -you- can be?"

"That's the wrong answer, Roy," Domino warns.

Then you're going into a discussion about morals. "Shut it. Fury already used that speech on me. If I wanted to be one of the good guys then I'd switch out to stun rounds and register my white ass with all of the other heroic kids. I don't need a fucking badge to tell me that I'm a weapon, and I sure as Hell don't need a bunch of guys in brightly colored tights coming in to save the day when I get in over my head.

''Last chance to demand an apology, girl. Nah, not worth saying the words to hear it.''

"Now, the right answer for you would be 'because I'm covering your tab.'"

As if to drive home the point she helps herself to another glass of rum. She's way past beer at this hour.

"Ehhh, nah, who said anything about you being one of the good guys? That's -Fury-, not me. I'm just the poor schleb whose daughter's mother happens to be one of the world's most wanted criminals," Roy remarks, as he drinks. After a pause, Roy sighs. "I'm sorry I ticked you off not letting you know -anything- about what's going on." Holding up a hand, Roy adds, "And I -will- cover your damn tab, okay? Now can I go back to covering your ass?"

"You say the sweetest things sometimes," Domino teases with a thin smirk. "After someone backs you into a corner and you've got nowhere left to go."

''Great. He apologized anyway. Now I get to jump back into things feeling guilty. Thanks, Harp.''

Her last drink is finished, quickly, then set aside. "Alright, numbnut. Let's get out of here. Oh, and next time? Try -calling- me instead of tracing my damned phone? Christ, you SHIELD brats are all the same."

"Hey you weren't -answering-. You screen my calls or something?" Roy retorts, as he stands up, motioning for the bill. "Besides, I can't go too long without seeing your damn face, I'm too accustomed to it... and no, I'm not about to break out in song for -you-."