2013.04.30 - Pony Boy! Or Legion Talk, and Friendship is Magic!

"Can't /believe/ this," Rokk's muttering to himself, sitting at the ancient metal desk from the 60s that came with the warehouse, in the corner of the main not-boxed-off corner of the first floor. He's got his omni in the air above the desk and a bunch of paper forms spread out on the desktop, and a /pen/. Of course the omni's scanned all the papers, but what he's doing? Is copying the handwritten Interlac answers he put in the omni into handwritten English on the papers. Because for all his English /speech/ is awesome, he's still shit at writing it. Mutter-grumble. "It's like the government's never heard of the internet..."

"Hey. At least the government acknowledges it here. You should try my homeland, from everything I've read," Marya comments as she walks into the warehouse. She'd been busy bringing herself up to speed on, well, just about everything that had been going on around here lately. And finding the best clubs to hang out in. That was crucial information to someone her age, once she felt like partying it up again. "They're still trying to figure out how best to keep people from getting to basic http pages, let alone research anything or use it to let it's citizens do anything, you know?"

"You still working on paperwork?" she asks with a shake of her head. Of course, being a native of Earth had it's advantages, so she'd had less trouble than others, perhaps. "What're you working on this time, anyway? Sprock, what is there to work on for paperwork, anyway?" They were from the future! Nobody to do paperwork for, right?

Coming in from a session of 'FIND ELUSIVE FRESH AIR IN METROPOLIS', Garth stretches as he flies into the warehouse. There's a brief tilt of his head as he observes Rokk sitting in a corner, donning the metaphorical DUNCE hat as he scratches his way through paperwork.

Eyeing Rokk, Garth does the slow air-crawl sneak as he approaches Rokk, waiting, waiting...

Only to be caught by Marya. Frantically waving at her, Garth immediately does a straight 'who me?' as Rokk turns around, waving innocently. "Yo, Rokk."

"I was there a couple days ago. I'd hate to see Gates' reaction; last time we were here it was the 1990s, and he was pissed enough that they were getting communism wrong," Cos says ruefully to Marya, glancing up from the mess. "And I always end up doing the paperwork. It'd be easier if everyone registered, at least by codename-- then the local government would more or less handwave the Legion in as yet another super-powered team. So basically I'm doing the workarounds that make me responsible if someone unregistered but wearing a ring causes property damage..."

Turn around? Rokk doesn't even bother /turning around/. "You know not even Lyle can sneak up on me," he says, looking at the ceiling. "Your em-field is like ten tons of zot hovering in the air. Don't you touch my paperwork."

Still getting used to seeing people who are supposed to be dead, the newest Legion member shrugs. "I might register. It isn't like there's anyone for them to check against now". The girl just shrugs and walks over to Rokk to look over the paperwork. "If you need me to register and it'll be easier, just let me know". She had no problem with that.

Garth is noted, and not really noted that much. She didn't recognize him, and she'd decided that remarking to all of the other Legion members about how they're supposed to be dead was not the way to win friends and influence people.

"I have no idea who Lyle is, but yeah, not even Jacques -could- sneak up on Cos. And Cos was -boring-, man, when he got all stuffed up in paperwork.." Garth says, scratching his goatee thoughtfully. "So I'm not allowed to touch your paperwork, eh?"

And before Rokk begins to consider the loophole he'd left in there, Garth quietly and quickly discharges a very very very light amount of electricity. The sort that's like rubbing a balloon against people, and having things cling to it with stubborn... static electricity.

Heads up, Rokk, you're about to be a paper magnet.

"That would be *awesome*. You can just do it under Dragonwing, they don't need your real name-- not like, yeah. Not like our names even mean anything to them. By the way, have you met--"

And all of a sudden, Cos is Static Cling Dude. He *still* doesn't look. His eyes narrow, and the papers all fall to the floor as he reverses the polarity of the neutron flow, and he lifts a hand. "--Lightning Lad?" he finishes sweetly; heads up, Garth, you're about to be stuck to the wall. "He thinks responsibility is boring. He'll grow out of it eventually, he always does, but in the meantime he thinks it's funny to make me want to mash his face into concrete." /Finally/ he glances over his shoulder. "Jacques took Lyle's place in EarthGov after Lyle joined the Legion. If you don't know who Lyle is, he's probably still with EarthGov and Jacques joined the Legion instead. Lots of invisibility."

"Yeah. All that information? Way above Legion Academy pay grade. Not that they actually paid for much at the Academy," Marya responds. She watches as Cos gets turned into Mr. Static Cling and can't help but snicker a little bit. Okay, yeah, she was going to like this guy. Giving Cos some grief sounded like fun, and if any of her friends back home heard about this, they'd be shocked. That's like two victories in one!

"Good to meet you, Lightning Lad. Dragonwing, also known as Marya Pai. You've probably never heard of me in your timeline, but that's okay". She shrugs at that, having come to terms with most people not having a clue who she was. But she was very obviously new to this whole switching universes and switching times thing, comparatively speaking.

Of course it doesn't always take a power to be 'invisible'. Some times it just takes being over looked. Then again, considering what's going on...

Well, as Imra wanders in, carrying a couple of good old fashioned /printed/ news papers, and how silently she enters, it probably wouldn't be a surprise if no one even looked her way. And yet, as she watches what the paper does, The Telepath from Titan fights back a snicker before saying something telepathically.

<>

Oh -look-, Rokk -actually- might have developed some sense of humor, maybe... at least, so Garth thinks. It was kind of hard to tell, since at the moment he was spun around and discovering what it was like being upside and clinging to a wall... damned metal-laced walls.

"Hey Rokk? Put me down," Garth says, in a deceptively calm voice, -actually- giving him a chance to response before he started doing -something- about his predicament.

Since Garth asked so nicely, Rokk puts him down without even jostling him, then starts scooping up the scattered papers and making a more or less even pile of them. "And yeah. Hey, Imra. This is Dragonwing, I don't think you met her properly when she showed up and we found you and whatever. Marya, Saturn Girl." He shoves /all the papers/ in the desk so Garth can't screw with them anymore. "Did you bring the classifieds or something?"

Yeah. Founders. Right. Okay, Marya, they were just normal Legion members. Who happened to be founders from different timelines. Yeah, no pressure. "Good to meet you," Marya responds. "I'm relatively new to this thing, so forgive me if I'm not as polished as everyone else". Which would probably be an understatement, but there wasn't any reason to make it sound any worse.

"So. Classifieds? Don't tell me the government isn't even willing to float us some sprocking money". Though that would just be like the government, wouldn't it? Couldn't ever trust it, but if it made life easier and the government couldn't do anything about it, well, she'd register.

There's a slight nod, and a smile at Marya.

<> is said telepathically. And the odd, open expression on her face appears to show that she truly believes that. <>

Then though, there's a faint chuckle before she actually speaks out loud, her gaze flickers for a moment or two to Rokk and Garth.

"And I'll let Rokk explain what's going on with money. But yes, I have the classifieds, among other things..."

Nearly landing on his head before Garth gets the flight ring to keep him from dashing on the floor, it takes him a minute to reorient. Once he does, he seems ready to give Rokk whatfor. It's only Imra's presence that causes Garth to back off (Why did her eyes had to be so damn blue -now-?)

"Ah... uh... so, Dragonwing, was it? Nice to meet you. Er... I have no idea who the sprock you are, though. You know us?" Garth greets, holding a hand out. "What're your powers?"

"Oh no no, they're willing to shell out if we work for it. In other words, the setup's kind of like with the UP, but they're willing to subsidize a lot more than just us," Rokk says to Marya, eyebrows up. He drops back into his ratty old chair, running his thumbs through his hair above his ears, then slouching into the seat some more. "Right now we've got Val also working for Tony Stark's outboard brain, Pepper Potts-- he's bodyguarding her for something like 25k per week." Then he gestures at Imra. "What she said. Except for me. If you ask Garth I was born forty. Hint: I'm not even forty yet." And then he blinks at Garth a little disbelievingly. "She's got a /ring/, man."

"Yeah, I know you from my timeline. Well, sort of. Some of you aren't on active duty where I'm from, and I'm pretty sure when I fell through the portal you might have come back on duty and killed. Reports were kind of mixed," Dragonwing says as she offers her hand to Garth. "Marya Pai, yeah. I breathe fire and acid, aside from the ring". She gestures at the ring, even as the dragon on her cape shifts and almost seems to look right at Garth.

"Got it. So, the usual fair, but they're talking to everyone in town. And here I thought my days of dealing with nassheads at bad jobs were over," Marya comments with a shake of her head. A couple puffs of smoke flare out of her nose and curl upwards as she expresses her annoyance.

"Val? You mean Karate Kid? You mean he hasn't died from that virus yet?" she asks, raising her eyebrows slightly.

Virus...?

Yeah. That's yet another thing for Imra to add to her list of things to worry about, and possibly deal with somehow. And given her half formed idea, one that she hasn't even talked to Rokk or Garth about yet...

There's just a nod from Imra as Rokk explains the whole money situation, and as Marya explains her powers. All though the fact that everyone she's mentioned is dead where and when Dragonwing comes from, or at least it's starting to feel that way based on what the other woman is saying, does cause her to glance in Garths direction for a brief instant as she surpresses a shudder.

"Man, Dragonwing.. that's a hell of a crappy future you're from," Garth says, as he eyes the dragon suspiciously. "A real firebreather, huh?" He wasn't quite sure, but he could've sworn there was a fire-breathing reject out of the Legion. Things must have -really- changed.

"Nice to meet you, anyway. Man, maybe we should just... not talk about that nass stuff. So, uh... wait, now we're looking for jobs? I thought we couldn't do -that-, Rokk..."

"The other thing I'm doing is working on modding the charter, so maybe you should let me do my sprocking paperwork," Rokk grouses. "Obviously it gets run past you guys and voted on and everything, but we've got a weird situation here. At least I haven't spent this whole time bitching that you're all twelve."

"Eighteen here," Marya comments, and a nod is given to Garth. "Well, we were in a middle of an attack when I fell through here, so I'm afraid I don't have any idea how things turned...well, will turn out," the woman tells him. The girl nods, however, at the firebreather commment. "Yep. I can do the acid trick with my hands, too. But that's about it, aside from the usual Academy training". Did they have an Academy in all their timelines? She had no idea.

A glace is given to the paperwork, and Marya opens up her mouth wide, and then closes it again. No, she's not going to burn the paperwork up, funny as that would be.

It might burn the place down, and that would be bad. She might lose points for that one.

Maybe it's as if Imra caught that random thought from Marya, because there's a subtle whisper of <> to Dragonwing telepathically, while Imra herself gives the other girl a slight glance.

"And I'm eighteen as well. In Earth years that is. Unfortunately that might cause problems considering one of the ideas I've had that could help us, but..."

There's a shrug.

"And /hopefully/ they're alive." is said to Dragonwing, before there's yet another glance at Garth. "In other realities we've survived worse, a lot worse, and had people be thought to be dead who weren't. Odds are the bulk of the Legion where... When I'm from thinks I'm dead."

"Oh, that's..." Suddenly Garth yanks his hand backward quickly, eyeing it as though he'd been bitten by a rabid wombat. "Grife! Warn a body about that -before- you touch 'em!" Shuddering, Garth points a finger at Marya. "That there? Add that to the charter! 'Must warn people about powers!' Sprock, Infectious Lass was bad enough..."

Taking a few steps back, Garth falls in next to Imra. "Get Cos to lighten up. It's not like it's raining Legionnaires right now... is it?"

"It's raining Legionnaires," Cos says mildly, leaving the /paper/ paperwork in the drawer, and just sort of spinning his omni in midair for now. He slouches back in the chair further, scoots it back, and puts his feet up on his desk. "And I know, I know. It's even only a little weird for me, I've met a bunch of alternates of us before. But Lu hasn't even met /any/ of you yet. Us. Well, me, but only here. She's sixteen and she got dropped here before Mr. Brande even got attacked. She's in Cancun right now. I'm hoping Brainy shows up before her vacation's over, or we won't have a ring for her." And then he flicks a paperclip at Garth. "That is not going in the charter. Guess what: you just got yourself volunteered for training duty."

Dragonwing wasn't going to burn the paperwork anyway. Silly mind readers. There's a brief glance over at Imra before she turns to smile at Garth. "Oh, don't worry about it. I do, in fact, have my ability under control. I'm not going to burn your hand off unless I intend to," Marya assures Garth. Just for a demonstration, she wiggles her free hand and it turns green and liquidy, though she has enough control to not drip bites of her acid hand on the floor. She turns it back to normal quickly.

"See?"

Okay, so maybe that wouldn't be the most reassuring thing to ever see, but oh well. "Sounds like all the timelines are all sprocked, from what your'e saying".

And as that demonstration of power happens, there is a slight smile from Imra.

All though between the Rokk and Garth stuff, there is a slight snicker.

"For all you know it could be raining them any time now. And you'd have to train them all."

"Training duty? Grife... who am I training now?" Garth says, even as he inches a bit further away from Dragonwing, and a bit closer to Imra. "Don't tell me, I'm getting stuck with... wait, Luornu? She doesn't need training, not with her trijitsu."

Casting a glance towards Imra, Garth throws his hands up. "Ahhh, sprock 'em. Fine, I'll do it. I'll make them all like little Rokks. We can call it the Rokk Garden."

Jo has been busy over the last few weeks trying to comprehend modern earth culture. It's a challenge -- little like either Rimbor or Avalon. He's come to the conclusion that the best way of understanding things is by watching television, and so, in his less busy hours, he has often been found staring at the boob tube as he tries to put everything together.

But not now. He's apparently decided that he understands things well enough, and has come out to see people again, for a little bit at least. Of course, he has also exchanged his tunic and cape for modern clothes: to whit, a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and a purple tee-shirt featuring a yellow winged pony with pink hair with butterflies on her rump. Beneath the pony is the word 'Yay!' in curly cursive.

He stops, however, in the doorway upon spying Garth. That one is here? Nose briefly wrinkling, he glances toward Cos, toward Imra, then enters the room fully and crosses his arms across his chest, waiting before inserting himself into the conversation.

"It's /practically/ been raining Legionnaires," Rokk amends, spinning the omni on a finger, then flipping it in the air and lowering it to the desk. "I mean-- seriously. I was here for months before anyone showed up." Then he sits up and taktaktak on the omni screen, and a holographic image appears: it's a damn spreadsheet of who's here and weird Cos shorthand for what kind of universe they're from. "Keeping track of you guys is a fulltime job. Training at this point is basically just going to the Jersey Shore and throwing things to see how teammates react, making sure you can all work together. It's not like I'm going to be there all the time; it's not like I'm the only person with leadership experience. Grife, I know -you- lead the team in TwenCen, even, Imra. We *have* to know each others' experience levels, abilities, quirks. And Marya gets to evaluate -you-. Why do I even have to /say/ this?"

Rolling his eyes, he pages through the display with his finger, scrolling past blank spaces where he /assumes/ people will show up. "And anyway, yes, take it as a given that nass is sprocked up wherever anyone's from. I've got a theory about that, too-- I'm pretty sure it's got something to do with why we're the ones who're ending up here. There *is* something seriously wrong with time. Again. I mean, all of time, again." Imra'll feel part of his mind wall off as he says that, but it's not an active thing, it's a totally absentminded shuffling of his thoughtspace.

Then Sir Ultra Boy comes in wearing... that... and pauses by the door. Cos just stares for a second. "Uh," he finally says blankly. "Nice shirt, Jo."

Rokk Garden...?

"At least you're not getting them to sing. Otherwise we'd have to worry about Rokk Rolls."

Yes, Imra did just say a joke. Be /afraid/!

All though as Jo shows up there is a slight nod in greeting, with no comment made about what he's wearing. not as her attention is pulled instead towards their 'fearless leader'.

"Should I even ask what your theory is then or...?"

"You don't have to tell me twice, Rokk, I was leading the Legion when -you- were filling out paperwork... in triplicate... on Braal," Garth grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. "But we weren't spending every minute doing..." He motions towards the drawers where the paperwork was hidden. "Mindnumbingly boring -forms-. We've got to loosen up and..."

Now Garth eyes Rokk. "Are you sure it's just time? I mean, if we've got people from different -universes-, then you're probably dealing with what, broken walls in multiple dimensions in multiple universes? Grife, just call in Brainy, problem solved..."

And then Garth blinks at Ultra Boy. "... Uh... Jo...? Did you accidentally wear Tinya's clothes again?"

"What theory?"

The latest Legionnaire to stroll into the warehouse/headquarters/whatever is Laurel Gand. Dressed like an Amazon from the distant past, rather than a Glamazon from the 30th Century -- though there's a modern backpack slung incongruously over her shoulder. It's all black and teal leather and steel and stuff, so presumably it was made FOR her.

"I missed something, didn't I." Laurel looks DUBIOUS at Jo's Pony T-Shirt.

"Thank you," Jo replies to Rokk, completely sincerely. "The ponies of Ponyville embody the virtues for which the Legion stands -- honesty, loyalty, kindness and so forth. I felt it appropriate." He turns his eyes on Garth, expression marginally critical. "Whyever would I be in such a position to don the lady Tinya's garb?" he asks. "That would be entirely inappropriate."

"No, *I* do the paperwork so *you don't have to*," Rokk says, picking up a scrap of paper that missed, earlier, wadding it up, and throwing it at Garth. Then he glances between Garth and Imra, sort of glazes over at Jo's explanation, and then puts his head in his hands by the time Laurel's coming in. "I hate everything," he mumbles. "Just... just don't... tattoo sparkles to your butt or something, Jo. Please. Or if you do, don't ever wear anything that means I have to see it."

Finally Rokk clicks off the omni and leaves it on top of the desk. "All of them, Garth. All the timelines. All of time. All of time in all the universes. It was collapsing where I came from, and there were doors-- and everyone left-- and I don't know, maybe some of the corruption left with the inhabitants. My entire reality's in diaspora and... there's someone trying to fix it. And if she can't, all I can think of is that it might be spreading. Like-- like Mordru or Glorith or, you know, the Time Trapper. Let something get out of hand. We're always fighting at least /one/ of them, aren't we? Even when we don't know it."

And as she hears that theory, any and all thoughts related to Jos shirt, and what Rokk says because of it, vanish. Not as Imra frowns. Sure Laurel gets a nod in greeting (even if Imra doesn't fully recognize the other woman), and Garth gets a glance...

But Imra is silent, mulling that theory over.

Tearing his eyes away from Jo onto Laurel... and then taking even longer to tear his eyes away to look at Rokk... "Imperiex, maybe?" Garth offers as a suggestion, considering the time-travelling villain from -his- universe. "C'mon, Rokk... let's just take Kal up on his offer and see what we can do with his tech too. I mean... grife... plug his tech and Brainy together..."

Annnd now the dubious look slides right off the pony shirt and right onto Cos. The Magic Words -- even Imra will sense her brain light up a bit at the short list of names that gets rattled off, the last in particular. Of course, then Garth has to interrupt her train of thought by listing another name -- "What's an Imperiex? Sounds delusional. Even moreso than our usual bad-guys."

Jo has met Mordru, at least, and dealt with Glorith as well. Neither of them is somebody he cares to deal with if he has a choice -- but if they show up, there's no choice in the matter, is there? But there is, perhaps, a more important question to deal with at the moment.

"Am I to understand," says the Knight of the Round Table, "that this shirt is -not- appropriate to wear in this time period?"

"... ask Tinya," Rokk says helplessly after a second, trying hard not to look at Jo at all. He's also gotten somewhat fidgety, rather unlike himself. "She'll tell it to you straight, man." He waves his hands around and stands up, finally, then runs his hands through his hair. "Imperiex where I came from wasn't something our century ever had to deal with-- it was all dealt with in TwenCen. Something about upgraded hockey sticks, I don't know. And sure, Garth. I mean, sprock only knows where we'd show up if we tried to time travel-- probably just this place's future. If it has one. But it probably wouldn't hurt anything. I mean, once we get a Brainy." He's talking like he just expects a version of everyone to show up, sooner or later. Like he's got a script. Spoilers. "If Glorith does show up, by the way, we might have to deal with a different kind of mess. Apparently she's a Legionnaire where Dragonwing comes from."

Yeah. As this talk about what's going on... What may be causing it... Why all the Legionaires are showing up here and now... And why Jo's shirt might not be one he should be wearing right now continues, Imra just remains silent.

She's mulling things over. And well, one of the things she has been considering does start to sound more and more tempting.

"I don't even know who Glorith is," Garth says with a shrug. "If she's a legionnaire, then she can't be that bad. Unless she's gone evil in your future... in which case, sprock, how do we know it isn't one of us who's gone evil?"

"Well, obviously she's a trap. Just because it's a different future where she comes from doesn't mean I don't know a Nemesis Kid when I smell one," Laurel chews off quickly, grousing and digging through her backpack to throw her uniform jacket on over her shoulders. The shoulder guards only make it a tiny bit awkward.

"If Legionnaire Glorith shows up, I'm going to /throw/ up."

Jo is fairly certain that he hasn't seen anybody dressed like Laurel around, and the pony tee-shirt is getting eyed with suspicion? "I will find other shirts," he says. "As for Glorith, it is clear that, as there are many versions of us, there are many versions of our enemies. When I met Mordru he assisted the Legion in the battle against the Circle. Which, admittedly, was because he hated them more than us." No, Mordru was not a good guy in Avalon. But he had his own brand of honor. Briefly he picks at his shirt. "I do not doubt it will be some time before whatever plans are being set in motion are revealed. But there is simply no way coincidence has brought us all together."

"What's wrong with the shirt?" asks Tinya curiously as she approaches the others, a puzzled look on her face. "And who's Glorith and Mordru and all of these other people you keep mentioning? Threats, I take it?" The dark-haired lady Legionnaire glances at Jo Nah, but seems to be either avoiding his gaze, or somewhat rather enamored of the epic cuteness of Fluttershy. "Although that /is/ a nice heraldy for you," she murmurs at Jo's shoulder. Not to his face.

"Nemesis Kid is a /thing/?" Rokk asks Laurel in startlement, actually stopping in his pacing to stare. "I was just about to say 'it'd be like inviting someone calling himself Nemesis Kid into the Legion'. Seriously." Then he waves his hands at Garth and Jo. "She's not that bright, usually, but she's really determined. She's gotta be a plant. If she shows up she bears extremely careful watching. I mean, no offense, but I really don't want to get magicked into being a teenager again. Or an old man. Or dust. Coming back from dust is a pain in the zootie." He glances at Imra, then looks down at his hands, then the desk. "Hi, Tinya. I am never speaking of the shirt again."

"Nemesis Kid? Hey, he was a -good- Legionnaire! He even shut down Grimbor!" Garth protests. "Karate Kid and him got along pretty well."

Running his hands through his hair, Garth sighs. "You know what, this makes my head hurt more. I'm just going to go take a nap. And Tinya... just get that shirt off him. It's all well and good if he wants to be Pony Lad, but ... so -not- right."

"Shave again before you hit the hay, you missed a spot," Laurel tells Garth with the air of a resigned sigh, idly indicating the area between her lower lip and chin with a wiggling index finger. "Yes, Rokk, Nemesis Kid is totally a thing. And it went exactly as well as you think it would."

Jo tilts his head slightly, blinking at Laurel. "I too know of a Nemesis Kid... but he was Mon'el in disguise, no enemy to us." But, see, there's Tinya, and while she's not meeting his eyes, she's certainly got his on her. "Good evening, Tinya," he says. "Thank you -- though it seems this may not be appropriate garb for me."

Apparition frowns at the names she doesn't know and finally shrugs. "Perhaps we should just focus on the threats in front of us... rather than borrowing worries from other realities that may or may not happen." She folds her arms thoughtfully and then looks at the pony-shirt. "If you like the shirt, Jo, wear it. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Hitching the white cloak around her slim shoulders, she adds, "I think it looks fine on you." No, she's not blushing, not even a little bit. Well, maybe the tiniest bit. Reflection from her lifestone, yes.

"What were you guys /thinking/?" Rokk asks Laurel, jaw dropping, before he stares even more at Garth. "You-- nevermind. Just never mind. Go. Take a nap. Imra, make sure he sleeps." He's just /waving his hands/; there's only the slightest of magnetic pushes. Not a shove, not by a long shot. "And I can't believe you just told Tinya to get Jo's shirt off. *Nemesis Kid*. /Really/. And Tinya, it's just that our threats follow us. We're mostly trying to figure out why we're all here and now. Laurel why are you dressed like Xena?"

"I was invited to Themyscira to scope the place out, soak up some Amazon Peace & Love Philosophy. I wanted to blend in!" Laurel makes dismissive gestures. "ANYWAY. Are there rooms here yet? It'd be nice to crash in one place for the long-term, you know?"

If Jo notices that Tinya is blushing, he does not comment on it -- he is a Knight (or thereabouts), and it would not be chivalrous to tease a lady. Unless it's, like, Andromeda. She's fair game. Or was, more or less, back at Avalon. "Thank you, Tinya. That's very kind of you." He glances after Garth, shaking his head. "The bias against ponies among our peers is sad," he adds.

"What's wrong with ponies?" Tinya wants to know in the way of all ladies who might be fond of such things. "But I'm also wondering about an actual place to stay... whether it might be short-term, or if we're planning with an eye to actually being /stuck/ here..." It's not a thought that pleases her, judging by the frown appearing on her visage. "On -that- note, *I'm* going to bed," the Legion's beleaguered Leader says in a huff. "Yeah, Laurel, upstairs. I'll show you. They're not much, but we're not going to be here much longer--" he adds, glancing back at Tinya as he starts toward the stairs, magnetically snagging his omnicom as an afterthought. "I've got my eye on an organized supervillain base that needs raiding, but if someone else clears them out first, we *are* shortly going to be coming into some cash. This is all I could get on one income and a loan. I'll see you guys later."

Not that Laurel's got a ton of stuff anyway - it's probably all in her backpack. Looking over her shoulder before following Rokk, she waves to Jo and Tinya, wiggling her fingers and giving them both a great big smile and a warm, "Good night, you two - have fun!" Doing you know. Whatever it is they do when they realize they don't have a chaperone.

Probably blush and stammer. So cute!

"Villain base, you say? Tell me more..."

"Sleep well, Rokk," says Jo, sighing as he moves to take a seat at the nearest table. To Tinya he observes, "What we were discussing before you arrived was that there is likely a reason we've been gathered. Some entity must feel that this time needs a Legion. And once the purpose has been served..." He pauses a moment before saying, "Well, either we will be stuck, or we will be returned." Though, to be fair, this isn't such a bad place.

Tinya Wazzo waves an absent-minded farewell to the others departing and finally goes to take a seat near Jo, but not too near. Not enough for Laurel to tease them about (maybe). "I wonder what would be the harder course to take... to stay here or to go back home." Looking down at her hands, she realizes she's wringing them and forcibly stills them. "I knew another you there... just met him... but he was nice." In a bad boy sort of way that mothers cringe about. "Was there... um. Is there someone waiting for you back home?" And she looks away, mortified at how stupid and not-casual-at-all that came out. "Er, I mean.. uh... never mind."

Jo glances at Tinya in surprise at the question. "No," he says after a moment. No, not casual -- but not stupid. "No... it's..." He hesitates, considering for a long moment. "There are oaths taken as a Legionnaire in my realm. They do not preclude relationships, but they... make them more difficult." Plus, that whole thing with the homewrecking creep Ranzz and the death of His Liege. Jo has sort of lived for his work in the last year or so since that happened.

Tinya Wazzo blinks and considers that. "There aren't any such oaths in my Legion," she says after a few moments of careful thought. "Only ones we all take as Legionnaires not to kill, to help keep the peace, that sort of thing." She glances at Jo for a minute or so, not quite staring, but more or less cataloguing the differences between this Jo and 'her' Jo. "Have you made plans if we're all stuck here?"

"Many of the same oaths we take, I'm sure," says Jo, "but our Legion was based upon the legends of King Arthur, rather than those of Superman -- and things were done differently then." He flashes a smile, a warm one. Different from 'her' Jo, certainly -- but he still has that smile. "I'm trying not to worry about things that far in the future," he admits. "I don't know how long it will be before whatever crisis we face comes to surface. But should we find ourselves stuck here, I think there would be worse places to be, and..." He trails off for a moment, studying Tinya's face before continuing, "Far worse people with whom to be stuck."

Tinya Wazzo lowers her gaze for a moment, once more blushing slightly. "The King Arthur stories I remember didn't end well," she says quietly, although she's visibly charmed by that smile. She can't help it, it's hardwired into her being across a stupid number of realities. "I... I don't mind being stuck here either... as long as you're here." There, she said it. The others, she doesn't care about, but his presence is reassuring to her. "I feel safer now..."

"Nor did ours," Jo is forced to admit, looking away for just a moment, but her words bring his eyes back to her, and he pauses briefly before stretching out a hand to touch her arm. "I told you already, I never met you in my future. And it was the poorer for it, Tinya. I'm glad that I help you feel safe."

Tinya Wazzo looks up at Jo and smiles hesitantly. Slowly, she lifts her free hand and settles it atop his hand on her arm. "It's weird... but I'm kinda wishing more and more that we don't get back... if it means I wouldn't see you... /this/ you, not another you... again." She swallows once and looks away.

Jo is, by now, blushing a little himself, but he leans in closer as he turns his hand to take hers. His smile is still in place, brighter, if anything, and encouraging that hesitant smile of hers. "Time will tell," he says, "but I don't have a Tinya Wazzo to return to -- and I know, should I return home, I will miss you terribly."

Tinya Wazzo once more returns her gaze to his visage. "You're very kind to say so, sir knight," she replies, gently teasing him with his title, but still hesitant. "Perhaps we should go for a walk or something, get out of this asylum for a little while... I mean, if you don't mind. Get something to drink or something. Whatever you like."

Jo smiles all the more broadly at being called 'sir knight'. "Milady," he says, rising and offering her his arm, "it would be my pleasure."