Caritas, Sunday

[suitably_heroic]

There was powdered sugar snow all over the stage. Atton squinted at it as he came in. "Didn't we already get past the season for that, or what?" he muttered.

The zombies gave him nothing. Nothing.

He stared at them for a moment longer.

"... Okay," he said, "This explains the stepstools at the bar."

[[ open but slow! ]]

Comments

[notconflicted]

Sia said she would be here, so she was, taking a seat at the bar.

Luckily as her normal size, because she'd be unbelievably pissed otherwise.

[suitably_heroic]

"Hey, look, you're normal sized," Atton greeted. "So much for taking you down a peg."

[notconflicted]

"I would deprive you of that joy and you know it," she smiled.

[suitably_heroic]

"So, you actually made it back to my bar," Atton said, turning around to rifle through some bottles. "... Well, Kitty's bar, I just work here sometimes."

[notconflicted]

"I did. I've actually been looking forward to this," she told him.

[suitably_heroic]

"Oh, so no pressure," Atton joked. He turned around, tossing her a small, wry smile. "How's raspberry margarita sound, to kick this off? For tradition's sake."

[notconflicted]

"Of course. You're in charge of drinks tonight."

She knew she could trust him on this one.

[suitably_heroic]

"Because if anyone knows they can trust my cocktail skills, it's you," Atton joked, but he sounded pleased. "All right. I'll mix this up, you tell me about the mess back home. Deal?"

[notconflicted]

"It's never anything good back home, you know," Sia pointed out.

[suitably_heroic]

"I know, so fill me in on the latest details," Atton said, reaching for the tequila.

[notconflicted]

"There hasn't been much of a change," she told him. "The Sith are still coming out of the woodwork to attack sites, which Antares and Jessica think is more coordinated than I do. Governing in a team is still terrible, and I'm pretty sure I'm not wrong in that it's getting more hostile. If I can get anything done at all, I consider it a success."

[suitably_heroic]

"So your... whatever you were doing the other day didn't work out?" Atton said. "... Sorry, I just spent twelve hours fighting my way through wet caves. I don't think all the moisture has left my head yet."

[notconflicted]

"No, my project is still happening, I just haven't had any major updates on it," she said. "Wet caves?"

[biotic_psychotic]

Jack had done more than her share of pre-gaming before she made her way to the bar. The door was a problem until she hit it with biotics and it swung open enough she could scamper inside.

She'd intended to go drinking. There was snow inside. Or maybe it was sugar. She had no idea. It was white and it was all over the stage so there went 4" tall Jack, laughing and bellowing "Have you any idea what the street value of this mountain is!?" and bodysurfing right on into it.

[suitably_heroic]

"I don't know, but you're paying for it!" Atton yelled from the bar.

What had the island done now?!

[biotic_psychotic]

Jack laughed and flipped him off good-naturedly. Taking a running start she let herself foot-surf back the other way.

When she slid to a stumbling halt, she tried to make a snowman.

It.. it wasn't very successful.

[suitably_heroic]

"Okay, new rule," Atton said, after watching her for a moment or two. "You buy drinks first, then you mess around in the powdered sugar."

[biotic_psychotic]

Jack stopped trying to make the sugar do what she wanted it to do. Standing back up she dusted off her ass and headed over to the bar. "Fine! Your bar, your rules. Mix up something fun. Not," she said when wobbling her way off the bar, "one of those fucking garlic horrors you were dicking around with the last time."

She nyoomed from the bar to the stepstool, hit that and vaulted her way up onto the bar. She landed in a tiny puff of powdered sugar. Crossing her arms over her chest she gave Atton a raised-eyebrows challenging, if slightly drunk, look.

[suitably_heroic]

"Are you drunk already?" Atton wondered as he reached for the amaretto. "And do I care?"

[biotic_psychotic]

"Nope!" Jack chirped at him with a bright and sunshiny smile. She'd been drinking. That was evident in the way everything was just a little left of center. It wouldn't last long. It never really did.

[suitably_heroic]

"Sour, tropical, or just plain punch-in-the-face?" Atton asked, which was his way of communicating that he'd decided that yep, he didn't care.

[biotic_psychotic]

Jack gave that some thought. "Tropical," she answered, "That'll be somethin' fucking different. Lots of garbage." Was it called that back here on antique earth? All the little picks of fruit and stuff?

Guess she'd find out.

..All of it would be bigger than her. Adventure ahoy.

... Maybe there'd be a little paper umbrella. That made her bark a tiny, tiny laugh.

Yes. She'd had a few.

[suitably_heroic]

Atton made an amused noise, and reached for the cream of coconut and the pineapple juice. "It's your funeral," he said. "Just don't die on my bar? Kitty would kill me. Like, actually murder me."

[biotic_psychotic]

Jack shook her head solemnly. "Noooo dying. Kitty's nice. She just had a baby. I'd have to go burn a fucking jail down to get her out and then I'd get the 'arson's not an appropriate way to handle your feelings' speech and fuck that speech."

Little did she know Kitty could just walk out of any jail she wanted.

"And you'd be dead and who the fuck would make my drink then?" Jack said as if making a significant point, then considered it for a moment. "Fjord. I heard the Wednesday bitch is best avoided. No murdering you though. You can stay."

[suitably_heroic]

"Thanks," Atton deadpanned. "That's exactly the kind of thing I love to hear from hot but terrifying women."

Beat.

"Who's the Wednesday bartender anyway? Since when do we have a Wednesday person? Did someone knock me out again?"

He set the drink down on the bar. Blame Tiny's taste in music the other night.