fandomtownies | The Devil's Nest, Saturday, April 7th

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The Devil's Nest, Saturday, April 7th

"Look, first, I don't know who covered the bar with cellophane grass, but it's not staying, so you can just stop working on that nest."

As commanding tones went, it was a decent start; it would've worked just fine for kicking some hinky-looking stranger off school property.

"Second, you're early."

Which was where she slipped up, of course, addressing the thing as if a) it could understand logic, and b) there was anything logical about any of this. Whooosh, went the commanding tone, leaving Bo somewhere between a plea and a whine.

"Third, you know you're not supposed to make that sound, right?"

The large, fuzzy white bunny beside the register just said "Bawck bawck bawck-AWCK?" again, and another foil-wrapped egg rolled down the bar.

Bo sighed, added it to the rapidly-filling beernut dish, and reflected that she'd pretty much lost this fight the moment it twitched its ears at her, anyway. So SOFT.

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Which is... covered in cellophane grass and commandeered by a clucking rabbit. Everything'll be fine as long as you watch where you put your elbows.

Scott walked in and took a seat at the... strangely festive bar. Okay.

"Excuse me," he said. "Is there a good reason why that rabbit's clucking, or just the normal insane lack of reason?"

"Hmm. You could try asking him," Bo suggested, since to her mind the real answer was patently obvious.

"I'm way too sober to talk to a rabbit right now," Scott said. "Suggest that again after I've had a couple drinks and we'll see."

"Works for me. What would you like to start with?"

She would totally suggest that again. And then possibly film the results with her phone, because she had learned much from her time spent knowing Kenzi.

"Oh, and, uh. Watch the elbow. I think there's a rabbit egg right around there somewhere."

"Do you have any specials?" Scott asked as he checked the bar for an egg. Sure enough, he found it and held it up to look at it. "Hopefully nothing with these eggs in them. That would be a little weird. It's too soon."

"Now I want to try mixing them with Bailey's just to see how it tastes." And using Tiny as her guinea pig, because there was no way Bo was getting smashed on girly drinks on the job. "But the Saturday Special is half-price cherry-lime margaritas."

"Fortunately, you have plenty to experiment with," Scott said, putting the egg down a little farther away from him after a quick inspection.

"Hmm. The price is tempting, but that sounds a little too sweet for me. I'll just take a glass of scotch."

"Fair enough." Bo nodded and fetched up a tumbler. "The faster you get drunk, the sooner I get to see you talk to the rabbit."

In truth, Bo was still of the opinion that fruity girl drinks would knock you on your ass twice as fast as the manly ones, but somehow she didn't think that argument would be as fun to have with this guy as it had been with Dick.

"...Do we ever have normal weekends here?" Asked the superhero to the succubus.

"If you're gunning for the Silliest Question of the Year award, I'd say you've got it in the bag." Duuuuuh...

Then again, given present company, Bo was inclined to sigh. "But compared to last weekend?"

"Yeah, how?" Since they hadn't even managed to do it ONCE.

"Maybe I sneaked in through the back door and disabled your burglar alarm?"

....Oh, there was no way that could come out right.

Guy had to stare for a moment. "I'm not sure if that should be hot or not."

"I'm trying to figure that out myself," Bo admitted. Forgive her while she got a little distracted with mental imagery.

Hey now, it was mostly just concerning for Guy now. Because they were getting into some freaky territory there.

"That would explain how the kid was," he granted her.

"Hey, now! He was a good kid."

Just, um...

Guy raised an eyebrow at that, daring her to explain how he was a good kid.

"He was a superhero!"

"He was a Star-fucking-Sapphire." They didn't count.

"What, he wasn't a good kid because he wore violet?"

Just be glad Guy wasn't going to hit his head on the bar with that weird ass rabbit there. "They're a bunch of stalkers who yap about love while they brainwash people into workin' for 'em."

Probably good for not getting chocolate egg all over his face.

"Stalkers?" Bo repeated, taking a moment to beer him because, well, she'd met him.

Bo was amazing like that. "Like that movie with the boiled bunny."

From the churned-up cellophane grass-nest by the register came a loud 'GOBBLE?'

"Our son was not a bunny boiler!"

"Yet!"

"He was running for student council!"

Because politics was always a sign of good character. Even Bo had to rethink that as an argument, unfortunately after she'd offered it.

"He was?" DAMN IT, GUY. PAY MORE ATTENTION TO YOUR FAKE KID.

"And starting his own business!"

Yes, Bo knew what kind of business that was.

She just kind of hoped Guy didn't.

"Did this business involve keeping his shirt on?" No, guy. No, it did not.

"I...didn't ask." Because it seemed like a fairly stupid question, but still. she didn't ask.

Maybe she should have. Maybe. She should have.

"As long as you're not planning on having the kid for real, this is a moot point."

Bo snapped her fingers and mimed disappointment. "Well, damn, there goes my twenty-year plan..."

"I can see how you'd hoped to be Mrs. Bo Gardner," Guy drawled.

"How do you know you didn't take my last name?" Aside from tradition and the fact that the one she used here was fake and the fact that Derek's last name had been Gardner and stuff like that.

"Because I'm a real traditionalist," Guy replied, leaning toward her over the bar.

"Really. You think you got down on one knee and gave me a shiny green ring?" Bo wasn't quite sure how that worked, but she doubted you could actually marry into the Corps.

Not anymore, you weren't. Well. Only if the other person was also in the Corps.

"What, and drag you into all the shit I deal with?" he asked with a smile that was almost sad as all he could picture in her place was Tora. "Pass."

"I have a feeling the kid would've mentioned if I was a superhero too." Which she wasn't, no matter how Kenzi liked to spin what she was. "Still, he actually seemed kind of proud of 'all the shit you deal with' -- when you weren't around to hear him talk about you, anyway."

Let's not ask where the DJ managed to dig up a copy of Here Comes Peter Cottontail.

Let's really not ask where Tiny learned the bunny hop.

Where there might or might not be a mildly-amused Viking.

I'm catching up on RoD (no, the other one) so you get Jake instead of Dyson for all your "Bo looks dubiously at a dude" needs.

Leonard likes this post.

I am proud to have the approval of a veteran of the North Korean army!

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The Devil's Nest, Saturday, April 7th

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