20196/The Owls Are Indeed Superb!
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The Owls Are Indeed Superb! | |
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Date of Scene: | 07 March 2025 |
Location: | 145 Central Park Penthouse |
Synopsis: | Jen and Mary watching the Superb Owl, and the Eagles win, so everyone wins, except the Chiefs. So really, everyone wins |
Cast of Characters: | Mary Bromfield, Jennifer Stavros
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- Mary Bromfield has posed:
It's Superbowl Sunday!
And the EAGLES are in the game!
Needles to say, Casa del Bromfield is all about the Superbowl this day. No streaming from Mary, and if any supervillains are looking for Thunderbolt... well, there's a lot of other superheroes. They can handle it, right?
So right now, Mary is wearing her vintage McNabb jersey, jeans, and has her special nachos prepped (extra spicy, courtesy of Momma Vasquez) as well as several beers. And the nice thing about being a dedicated gamer and streamer? Having a massive high-quality television to watch the game on. Much to the chagrin of any roommates that might not be understanding the fanaticism that she has for Philadelphia sports with...
- Jennifer Stavros has posed:
Jen, being the aforementioned roommate, wandered out in an oversized sweatsuit, hair a tangled mess, having _clearly_ just returned from the land of Nod. Hunger levels were critical as she wandered into the kitchen to go find leftovers or something.
Then the smell of nachos hit Jen's nose. So she wandered out of the kitchen and into the living room, following her nose.
Not her fdault she was out way late overindulging in some of the finer things in the world and thus had to pay fpr it today.
"Hey." she said blearily, brain clearly not yet firing on all cylinders. "What's up?"
- Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary grins, "Oh, just getting ready for the big game. Eagles are gonna be crushing the Chiefs tonight, so I figured I'd get ready for it. Some of the family might come over later... dunno about other capes, though." She shrugs a bit, "Always was a big deal back at the Vasquez house, and well... the Eagles are in it, so it's gotta be a big deal. Can't let the Chiefs win, right?"
- Jennifer Stavros has posed:
Jen just looked at Mary, taking in the jersey as well as the divine-smelling nachos and the beer. "Shit. That's today?" she said, fighting another skullcracking yawn. "Lemme go get cleaned up." she offered, after catching a whiff of her, shall we say, fragrant state. Cigarettes, stale perfume, and sweat. Lovely. She smelled like a Jersey girl.
Which she totally was, but Logic and Jen were occasionally bitter enemies.
"Want me to order us some more chow?" she said as she started to wander back to her room, ditching the sweatsuit top as she went. "Just my luck, they'll take our order." she smirked then disappeared back into her room with its attached bathroom. And shower.
- Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary laughed a bit, "Well, I'm pretty sure you'd have the luck to get through, but sure... probably time it for halfitme, I don't think we'd need it before then?" She grinned and shook her head a bit, looking a touch amused at Jen's reactions being on a bit of a lag.
But then, she had spent her Saturday night doing some streaming. Wasn't like she had anything else to do given the sudden lack of social life that she had. But well, easy come easy go, so the story is. Something she had in common with her siblings, anyway.
- Jennifer Stavros has posed:
"Are you questioning my luck?" she said over the sound of her shower running. For some reason she'd neglected to close the door to her bedroom behind her. "Fine. No cheese steaks and A-Treat for you, Philly girl." she threatened, having to project her voice a little bit to be heard over the sound of running water.
- Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary snorts, "Hey, I didn't question a thing. Though when exactly /did/ you stumble in this morning?" She knows better than to say 'last night,' because it pretty clearly wasn't. Besides, she was up most of the night, and Jen was still out.
Then, her voice echoes from the doorway, as she's leaning against the wall, having come over to stand closer, so she wouldn't have to shout. Granted, it's just the two of them in the penthouse, but there's a certain principle of the thing. "Still feeling the effects of Tyche?" Because she was there when the goddess of Luck was pressing hers inside of Jen.
- Jennifer Stavros has posed:
Jen didn't respond right away and when she finally did, she sounded a little ... breathless. "I don't really remember." she said, then the water shut off and the cloud of hot water wafted out of her bedroom. She made frustrated noises, probably at the size of her to-be-done laundry pile. "Six, maybe?" she called out after a moment/ Before too long she came out in a halter top and a pair of mostly clean-ish jeans.
"And hey. Nobody say the T-word." she said, eyes looking temporarily haunted. For once, she was freshly-scrubbed and sans what she liked to refer to as her smoky eye, and uncharitable sorts referred to as her Domestic Violence look. She then conjured up a white-disc, looked at it, then sighed and let it fade. "Yeah, not gonna risk it." she muttered, then her thumbs went nuts on her phone as she tried to make something happen the natural way. By the look of it it wasn't going well.
- Mary Bromfield has posed:
Mary gives Jen a sympathetic look, "Hey, don't sweat it, we got plenty of food here, and I told any of the Titans or the fam that if they drop by they /better/ bring their own food. Come on and watch men in tights tackle each other at high velocity with me, would you?" She grins, "Besides, Kendrick is doing the halftime show, and you /know/ he's going to roast Drake something fierce." She couldn't help but chuckle at that.
- Jennifer Stavros has posed:
Jen decided she could use a little snuggle time and men in tight pants running around tackling one another while they ate nachos and drank beer sounded refreshingly ... normal. Not Ancient Greek at all.
"Drake is so toast." she said with a slow grin as she closed the door to her bedroom behind her to take up some space on Mary's couch.
"If this game sucks I reserve the right to re-do my nails." she said by way of a warning.