10213/Birthday Blues

Birthday Blues
Date of Scene:	20 February 2022
Location:	The Wick
Synopsis:	Hal has an interesting birthday afterall, thanks to Stella.
Cast of Characters:	Hal Jordan, Stella Roundtree

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Hal Jordan has posed:
This isn't really the sort of place that he usually frequents.

Not that there is anything wrong with this particular bar. But for the most part, when he is looking to drink it is after after a successful flight, a successful mission, and so he tends to gravitate more to those sorts of places frequented by those who share a similar calling to him. Fighter jocks, or at least military. It's the sort of place that is familiar and comfortable after all this time.

The Wick... definitely does not have that sort of vibe. But beggers can't always be choosers. And while he's not really inclined to be much of a begger either, it is possible that Hal could be feeling just a little down. Alone on his birthday.

Really, it's not all that uncommon. Over the past few years he has spent his birthday out in deep space, hundreds if not thousands of light years from those he cares about most. But somehow, being back on Earth makes it strike home a little harder, a little more deeply. Between that, and the ongoing troubles facing the Justice League, well, sometimes a guy just has to get away for awhile.

Which is why he finds himself in The Wick, in New York City, bomber jacket still draped over his frame as he sits hunched over at the bar, nursing his drink.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     Beggars, choosers, or just passers-by, Stella seems to be the last of the three. It's not too bad out, but she needs a drink of her own. She hops up to the bar a few seats away from the fellow with the bomber jacket, seeming to be in a good mood as she settles in. A barfly is a barfly, no matter the state or city, she can sniff them out and settle in. Though as she rifles through her messenger bag, pulling out papers, she quickly realizes aloud, "Huh. Yeah, I'm not gonna be able to see for shit in here to do notes," and shoves everything back in and orders a rum and coke.
     "Don't suppose you've got a book light in that jacket?" she asks of the man a few stools down. "I already ordered a drink, but not sure I'll get too much work done," she says, looking at her phone and swiping through a few messages. There are a lot of images of cute animals that are being sent her way, and she smiles down at them. "And now that I'm here, I am not sure they have a pool table, either..." she says, looking around. "Maybe I'm just a bad planner."

Hal Jordan has posed:
Yeah, definitely not the sort of place that he normally hangs out in.

The aesthtic is kinda cool, with the candles and all. Hal can definitely dig it. It makes for a nice change in some respects, though all things considered, considering his generally down mood it is possible that this was not exactly the right sort of place to seek out. And yet, by the same token he can't really imagine be chillin' in some sports bar, or some trendy upscale speciality establishment either.

Still, he might regret the fact that there is no pool table or anything else to distract him from pure, unadulterated drinking before the night is over.

His power ring can protect him from a lot, but as it turns out even the Oans can't do anything to cure a hangover. Or maybe they just don't want to. Mean little S.O.B.'s.

As he's joined at the bar, he casts a glance down towards the woman, arching a brow at her question, the corners of his mouth twerking up ever so slightly. He can't imagine working at a bar himself -- like, besides tending the ocunter maybe -- but hey, it takes all sorts. But he doesn't have to take an inventory of his pockets or the like to give a shake of his head. "Sorry. I gotta admit, I don't normally carry a booklight on me."

Of course he can pretty much make his own if he ever needed to which does change the equation of things.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Such a bummer! One never knows in New York!" says the woman, her long golden-brown hair bouncing as she shrugs. "All sorts here, booklights or flashlights or magical things, and I've only been here a little while," she says, taking a big slug of her drink and setting it back down.
     "You look a little down. And I'm way too bouncy. Want to meet in the middle with some very bad idea shots?" she tempts, bright eyes looking him over. She's noting all the parts of him that are of interest, the jacket, the military vibes.

     "Unless it's a day that you kinda need some time alone, in which case I'll just be good'n quiet and take in the atmosphere on my own," she says. "But maybe there IS a pool table in the basement, sometimes they're just not out..." she says, waving to the bartender to see.

Hal Jordan has posed:
It's a fair point. And it's not just New York really, not in his experience. And his experience has taken him very far afield indeed. "Never hurts to ask," he agrees with a brief smile. It's funny how even a random sort of encounter can improve one's day. Even if just a little. Either way, Hal shifts on his stool a little to face her.

"Hey, nothing wrong with being a little bouncy if you've got the reason. It's just been... a long few weeks," he admits drily, taking another sip from that very large mug o' beer. At her offer he gives her a considering look, not exactly shy about taking her in either before giving a small shrug and an amused sort of smirk. If drinking alone on his birthday is not the best of ideas, drinking with a stranger has to be at least a step up, right?

"Bad ideas are my speciality. And there is no reason why we can't do both the shots and hunt down a pool table or a dart board or something," he agrees, glancing over towards the bartender and motions for him to bring over a couple shot glasses.

It is reasonable quiet in the place, enough so that their conversation is indeed not lost on the bartender who gives a nod towards Stella, pointing towards the stairs leading down to the basement.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Oh, I have SO many reasons," she says. "And some to be mad, too. But I'm really trying to focus on the good stuff right now," the brunette says. "And... OH MAN, they do have one? Yeah?" she asks to the bartender, who nods again. Yes, lady.

     "Well then. Nice to meetcha. I'm Stella. What are we havin'?" she asks, scooting over so that she's next to him rather than a few seats away. "I have to warn you, though. I'm very good at pool and some may say I'm even better when I'm drunk," she chirps. "Which I fully intend to be, because the walk home is short," she says, smiling his way. She takes off her messenger bag and loops it over the back of her barstool.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Well it looks like he's not the only one having a time of it! Fair enough!

Slapping some money down on the bartop to cover what he's already had to drink, Hal motions towards one of the bottles behind the bar, adding a few more bills as the tender hands it over. "Whiskey," he says, holding up the bottle to his new acquaintance as he collects the shot glasses and slips off his stool, turning for the stairs. "If the drinking and pool goes well, we can always move onto something a little fancier," he adds drily, leading the way towards the stairs. "I'm Hal by the way. I probably shouldn't join you in the drunkenness, I'm not a local, but again, we'll see where the evening goes. It's definitely been one of those days," he says. And besides, he has a pretty good tolerance -- and a bit of history -- to keep him from going completely overboard. "Is that so? Well then, we'll have to see if I can find a way to keep up."

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "A pleasure, Hal," says the brunette. "And I dunno, I'm a little rough around the edges. Fancy, huh?" she says. "I like dives, though this place is... different. I suppose I could clean up a little if you want to go somewhere with regular lightin'," she says with a little giggle. And damn, does she like shots. Because she's following him like a puppy downstairs.

     "Yes, I am sorry and proud to say that the VFW halls definitely had a hand in my pool game," she says. "They'd rent 'em out for all kinds of things, and I've had time to practice," she says as they descend into yet another dim room, but at least this one has three pool tables and all the needed equipment on the side, just requires coinage to release the balls. "Gonna share about your day, or are you a man of mystery, Hal?" she asks, digging in her bag and pulling out a handful of quarters from the bottom.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"I just meant in choice of shots," he offers up with a smirk as he pads down those stairs into the basement. Just like above, it is a little on the dark side given it's mood lighting, though the center of the area is indeed dominated by a pair of pool tables, small circular tables and requiste seats lining the edge of the room though few of them are populated at the moment. "This place suits my mood as good as any," he assures her.

Setting the bottle down on the table nearest to one of the pool tables, he lines up the shot glasses and quickly pours out a healthy dollop of his choosen whiskey into each of them with a practiced enough hand to suggest that it is definitely not his first time. "I think we all have our secrets," he says with a little smirk, raising up his glass in her direction in a sort of salute. And then he downs it in one quick swallow. "But in my case I guess it's that it is my birthday today and I'm feeling a triffle sorry for myself," he admits, that self-depricating smirk still playing over his features. "And what about you? What has you frequenting this particular establishment today?"

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Oh, that makes more sense," the woman says with a nod. Stella looks around to see the little population down here, but it doesn't sway her. "It's your birthday! You don't look old enough to feel sorry about it," she says as she grabs her own shot and mirrors his execution, though with her pinky out like a lady. "I guess the next few drinks are on me, in that case," she says.

     "Hmm, well! I had a job, then I think I lost it all in the span of time it took me to go on three dates with my would-be boss...who then dumped me for the lady who's his secretary or whatever," the woman says. "So I don't think I'll be asking either of them for drinks any time soon." She puts the quarters in and pushes the slot, the balls all rolling out for access.

Hal Jordan has posed:
He gives a low chuckle as he pours himself another shot, though he does not immediately down it as well. High tolerance or not, pacing one's self is never exactly a bad idea. "Oh, nothing like that. I'm not that old, and this is not a particularly big birthday," Hal agrees with a smirk, one hand resting on the back of the nearby chair, but not bothering to pull it out yet. They're here to play pool afterall. "I just travel a lot for work so I was hoping to get back home, check in on my brothers, nieces and nephews. That sort of thing. But the fates conspire sometimes, right?" he says with a small shrug.

His tale of woe offered up, he falls silent as he listens to her tale of woe in turn. "Ouch. Workplace romances. I guess we've all been there now and then. Sorry to here it though," he says with a nod, raising his shot glass her way once more in a sort of salute before following her to the pool table as the balls start rolling out. "Fortunately you always have perfect strangers to drink with," he offers up slyly.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Well, I'm exaggerating a little bit, I guess I did try to get him to slow it down and... well, whatever. It was fast. It's over, and I did need a drink," she says. Single serving friends don't need all the details. "But I'm sure your family will be happy to see you when you get a chance, huh? Must be hard to be away from them, so you do get pity points on that." She racks up the pool balls in proper order.

     "We bettin' anything on this?" she asks, "I dunno. We'll see if you're a *perfect* stranger or just a pretty good one," she teases, pulling the triangle up and stepping back, grabbing a cue and chalk. "I'll even let you break to find out."

Hal Jordan has posed:
"Fair enough," Hal says reasonably. "Still, it's never easy I know. I've been there a time or too as well," he offers up. Sometimes all you can really do is commiserate with that other person. That second shot disappears just a hair lsower than the first and he sets that shot glass down on one corner of the pool table. "Wooo, pity points. I suppose I'll take what I can get. But yes, I'm sure I'll be able to catch them on a good weekend in the not so distant future," he agrees. Sucks for today, sure, but it is hardly the end of the world.

"I'm not opposed to a friendly wager or two. But maybe I should see exactly what I'm up against here, hmmm? I'd hate to get hustled," he points out with a smirk, retrieving a pool cue from the nearby wall rack and returning to look over the table. "And hey, I may be biased but I think perfect applies just right," he counters with that same smirk, leaning over the table to send those balls scattering to the four corners.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "That's true, perfectly almost sober when I came to meetcha," the lady says as he watches him, taking her own second shot as the balls roll across the table. "You can always do cool uncle birthday on a different weekend, supposing that's your family role," she says. "Are you a pilot? I'm never sure in this city, a lot of people do dress up as a lot of things," she says.

     She leans over and shoots, the cue knocking in an easy solid, coming to a stop right on the lip of the pocket. "Gotta be careful..." she mutters as she moves around the table, leaning over and just barely tapping on the cue to move it out of the way. But all she does is bump a few assorted balls centimeters from their positions. No hustling... yet.

Hal Jordan has posed:
He smirks, moving to stand back from the table a little bit after his break fails to sink anything, giving her the chance to work unimpeded. The pool cue is planted against the ground in front of him and he watches her closely as she goes to work. And while it seems she's pretty good at the game, it doesn't seem that he is completely outclassed. At least not yet. "I'm sure that's what we'll do in the end. It's not that bad, all things considered," he agrees.

"And yep, you got it in one. Used to be military, but I've been a test pilot the last few years," he offers up, moving back towards the table when she fails to sink her next effort, taking a moment to look over his choices before picking out a suitable stripe that looks promising. It goes down well enough, though it leaves him with nothing but junk for a follow up. "And what about you? What do you do for a living?"

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     She leans her cue against her shoulder, "A test pilot, huh? Sounds both thrilling and dangerous," she says as the watches the stripe sink in, and the remaining mess on the table. "As for me, Mr. Jordan," she says as she looks at his jacket, "I used to work for a private investigation company, then on to security, and I might still have a job at a local tech company as a tester for some of their goodies," she says.

     Uh oh, is she getting tipsy, or is she just overly friendly? Her accent says midwestern, so both are on the table. "I'm not sure if that's still a thing, but maybe. Otherwise, plenty of people need their houses and businesses checked for bugs or digital breaches. Not as risky as a test pilot, but I did get maced by a client who thought I was her husband's mistress, so there's a slight air of danger? Mostly I just worry about old dudes who ask me if I want to inspect... well, you get the picture. That's definitely not in the job description."

Hal Jordan has posed:
Once more he surrenders the table to her, the lay of the balls perhaps a little more favorable to the solids right at the moment, though one never knows what sort of turns things will take. In the game as well as in life itself. "Hal's fine," he says readily, moving back to the table to pour out another pair of shots while she finds her next move, setting the tumbles back down on the edge of the table. No doubt the bar would frown on that, but it doesn't look like there are any employees down here to tell them otherwise.

"And I guess that it might be a little dangerous, and I certainly like the thrill. But I'm good at my job. That negates a lot of the risk," he points out with a grin. He could pretty much negate all of it, if he flew with his ring on. But that is one thing we won't do -- out of stubborness or confidence or something else entirely. "Security huh? I would not have guessed. But I imagine it's a pretty good industry to be in these days," he admits.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     Stella does another shot, then lines up a different kind altogether, sinking two solids in opposing pockets. She looks for he next best angle, roaming around like a dog looking for a good place to dig. Must be PERFECT.

     "Oh, so you're a thill-seeker, Hal?' she asks, leaning down at the edge of the pool table, closing one eye to line up her next shot. "And yep! The fun fun world of affairs, mostly. And stoppin' bathroom peepers. Though sometimes stalkers, if things are particularly grim. But it's nice in those cases to be able to help. After everyone is less upset." She sets another solid off, and it does sink in... along with one of his stripes.

     "I think the most upset has been when I found someone living in an attic room who wasn't supposed to be livin' in the house," she ponders, stepping back. "What about you? Any good test pilot stories to share?"

Hal Jordan has posed:
That was a pretty nice shot. It seems as if she really does get a little better at this game the more she has to drink. This might not go aswell for him as he might have hoped. At least he hasn't made any sort of a wager on the outcome.

Yet.

"I don't know about a thrill seeker, but I do have a certain appreciation for speed," he admits with a wry smile, perched casually against the edge of the table as he watches her pick out her neck shot from the many and varied offered up. All the angles. It's why being a former military pilot helps him a little. Picking out the right shot, the right angles is something he excels at.

"Sounds pretty varied if nothing else," he agrees with a slow nod of his head. "Mmmmm, I don't know how thrilling they'd be. Maybe for another pilot I suppose. There's been the occasional close call, but really when the prep work is done right things go pretty smooth." Most of the time.

There's an element of risk to everything, right?

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Sounds like you're pretty confident," she says. She goes to make her next shot and barely nicks the cue. It spins, but otherwise is useless. A risk taken, and no reward! "Hey, I'm not a pilot, it all sounds thrilling. I'm not afraid of planes or anything like that, so not in a scary sense. But I guess, 'I flew the plane and it went to plan' isn't the most exciting tale to have lived," she laughs.
     "You're up, let's see if you can catch up," she says, back to her rum and coke, a little looser than when she came in. "But I should be nice to you on your birthday, not so mean," she decides, eying up the remaining shot glasses but refraining for the moment. Maybe she wants the game to keep going!

Hal Jordan has posed:
Hey, sometimes you have to take a few risks to keep things interesting. Having it not pay off is just part of the game. Flashing a grin, Hal slips from his perch and back to the table. "I'll like to think so. But it's more an issue of choosing to live life without any fear, in my mind," he says casually. It's a belief that has served him pretty well and taken him far beyond this world.

It would seem that he is not quite as concerned about picking out the perfect shot, as picking out the best shot that can be made quickly. It is pretty important to have quick decision-making in the cockpit afterall. "I'll give it my best. You weren't lying about being pretty good," he says, leaning over the table, pool cue clacking as he quickly sinks one.

Without hesitation he is moving around the table again, that second shot lined up as well as a third striped ball goes down, evening the score. "And yea, though I suppose mostly that goes for any profession right? If there isn't some sort of drama, it's not going to be all that exciting to tell," he admits with a smirk, firing off that third shot. And a fourth stripes goes in, though immediately followed by the cue ball. With a shake of his head, Hal sets things back up again and motions her over.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "I have almost a shameful amount of practice," she says, not at all looking like she's ashamed in the least. She watches the cue ball escape, and then return, replaced to its position. Three in, four to go as far as solids, and that treacherous 8-ball. "But it serves me well in situations where I might meet..." she lines up her shot, "... the perfect stranger." And she releases, thankfully sending 6 to join 3, 4, and 7.

     "I am very, very glad I made that, or that would have been embarrassing," she says, grinning as she moves around Hal to get to her next vantage point.

     It takes a little concentration on her part as she sets off the next shot, declaring, "Okay, I got one and two with this one..." and she does, cracking the two and sending them into a corner pocket. The cue ball teeters and looks like it's going to stop. In fact, it does seem motionless for a split second before it tips in, like a phantom finger booped it. "So close!" Stella laughs, setting the cue ball back out.

Hal Jordan has posed:
For a moment it looks like she's going to run the table and put things away, but as the cue ball tips over, Hal is given new life. "I thought you had me for a moment there," he admits with a wry smirk, giving his head a ltitle shake. The whiskey shots are left along for the moment and Hal instead takes a sip of his beer -- though just how sensible that is will remain to be seen. He did say he had a high tolerance, right?

Either way, with his new life, he pads back to the table. "I don't know, win or lose now I think you've made your point. That was a very nice shot," he conceeds as he circles the table, brushing past her as he lines up his next shot.

And it's Hal's turn to go on a run, the stripes rapidly dropping, shot after shot. There's nothing fancy there, no two-in-one's. Just good geometry. Finally lining up the last shot he gives a little shake of his head at the angles and just wings the cueball as hard as he can, sending that black ball careening about the table.

But not sinking it. "Looks like you get another life too."

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Well, sometimes we just get lucky," Stella says. She (thankfully) sticks to her rum and coke, though that's almost all ice at this point. "So are we betting at this point, or are you just too intimidated that I'll beat you?" she asks, knocking 5 into a pocket and hearing the clink and roll of it back to join its brethren. Just that eight ball left, and a smile on her face. With nothing left on the table but that and her, he'd be betting against the skills she's shown off- but she is getting sort of wobbly with all the alcohol affecting her. It's a lot, all those shots and that rum and coke. Maybe she won't be as steady.

Hal Jordan has posed:
So it all comes down to this. Thus far it's been pretty even admittedly, though she would certainly have the advantage now. Her shot, and only the possibility that her reflexes might be a little dulled on his side. Then again, it's all risk and reward, right? "Everything on one shot huh? It depends exactly what you want. Keep in mind that I'm just a stranger in the city so I'm not exactly flush with a lot of things to bet," Hal points out with a smirk. "But if it's reasonable, I suppose I'm willing to take my chances," he admits.

And just hopes that he's not being hustled afterall.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Howbout your number?" she asks, and lets the cueball fly. The 8 ball really does look like it's headed in for a pocket but bounces off the curve and remains there, just ready to go in. "Oh no!" Stella laughs, shaking her head. It really should have gone in. It looked like it was, for sure. "Guess I'm outta luck on that one. Maybe I was too confident," she says, finishing off the last little bit of booze in her glass.

Hal Jordan has posed:
He gives a quiet chuckle at that, dipping his head in apparent approval and takes a longer pull of his beer, polishing it off at last as he takes his place at the table. Not that there is much suspense left with the easy tap in she's left him. There might not be enough alcohol in the bar to keep him from making that shot. "Life without fear," he counters with a grin, lining up the cue and completing that tap in at last, claiming victory for the stripes. The cue is raised triumphantly for just a moment as he flashes her a grin. "So, I guess that means that I get your number, huh?"

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "It DOES mean you get my number," she says. "But also mayyyybe I just wanted to make sure you were good with it all and had an out," the brunette lady in the leather jacket says. She reaches into that bag of hers and pulls out a notepad with a little tree logo stamped on it, and writes out a number with a 614 area code, handing it over. "I'd be happy to play again some time to find out," she says, offering up the bit of paper like it's a ticket to a show. And depending on how inebriated she has the potential to get, it could be!

Hal Jordan has posed:
"Oh, is that so? Sounds like a convenient excuse to me," Hal replies with just a hunt of a grin, reaching out to take that offered slip of paper from him, tucking it away into his jacket pocket as he retrieves that drink. He doesn't seem inebriated, though one has to figure those shots have to start taking some sort of toll. "Still, you play a pretty good game. I'm certainly not opposed to giving it another go at some point and see if you really are trying to hustle me here," he conceeds with a wink, leaning casually against that pool table.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Whatever could I want from you?" she asks, as she leans against the table next to him, her own jacket open enough to give a hint at her figure. "Besides, if I really played as good as I am, I'd win every time at break," she says confidently. Those shots might be affecting her more than him, she's a sharer. "But then no one would want to play with me!" she says with a snicker. "Why, were you goin' easy on me, too?" she asks, bumping her hip lightly against his, seeing how he reacts.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Those are some bold words! And Hal might be understandably curious about whether she can truly back them up. Not that he is opposed to make the odd outrageous claim or two -- usually when boasting about his flying abilities. Everyone has a weakness or three afterall. "I was not actually," he retorts with a grin, bumping her hip casually right back. "I mean, it's not hte best game I've ever played and downing shots throughout probably wasn't the best way to make sure that I was at the top of my game, but if you've got a whole other level to show off, I might be in a little bit of trouble," he admits with a smirk.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "I get better when I drink," she repeats, "It's my superpower," she says. Joking, right? "Why, you wanna go again?" she asks. "An' don't worry, home's a walk away for me, not goin' too far and not drivin'," she grins. She jiggles her messenger bag, "I hear a few more quarters in there. Unless there's another game of bar sports you wanna do? It is your birthday after all," she teases.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Hey, as far as super powers go, it's not all that bad. "I don't know, I mean you're clearly pretty good but I didn't see this dramatic improvement you're boasting about. Maybe you just htink that you get better and better," he teases lightly. If nothing else she has been able to put him in a somewhat better frame of mind, so he definitely owes her for that. Not enough to lets her say that she through their game, mind you. But he still owes her. "I suppose we could go again. Or give darts a try. You might want to be careful though. I've already won your number. You might have it tough making good on another wager," he points out archly.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "I dunno, I'm mildly annoyed at a dude I went on like three dates with, so like... ten percent heart-broken. That's enough to get more than a number. You bein' hot doesn't hurt, though, so if you want a VERY happy birthday, you just have to ask," she says. "Only ring I noticed was the green one you got on, so! Didn't think you'd be married or anything. But I do play a mean game of darts, too," she says. "If that's more your speed." She has a big smile on, drumming her fingers against the edge of the table.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Of course she did mention a little bit about her romantic misadventure when he was discussing just what brought him into the Wick himself so it's not a complete surprise. "Well, I guess his misfortune is my good luck. Since I'm the one who was having a bad birthday, clearly I deserved it a little more. Finally, karma works out in my favor," he quips lightly before glancing to the far end of the basement game room. "Alright then, we'll put your super powers to the test. Then we can see where the night takes us," he suggests with a hint of a grin, turning to claim that bottle once more and start down towards the waiting dart board. Hurling around sharpened metal objects when mildly inebriated is possibly not the best idea, but no one else is around so no one should lose an eye.

Hopefully.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "All righty, let's do that," she says, leaving the pool table and moving over towards the dart board. It's pretty well-used, but still usable. She picks up the darts, offering him one set and taking the other for herself. "Shall we, Hal?" she asks. "What are we bettin' on for this one?" she asks, tossing the darts in her hand a few times. They all rotate over perfectly in harmony and land flat in her palm every time. With no one else around, it seems like she's a little more confident to show off!

Hal Jordan has posed:
watching the way she handles those darts, he arches a brow and that smirk grows a little more prominent on his face. "Well, I was gonna say whatever else you thought you could afford to lose, but it looks like you might have better luck this go around," he says drily. He's a pilot and a space cop. His hand-eye coordination is pretty impressive. But so clearly, is hers as well. "I mean, you can always get my number unless you're going for bigger stakes this time," he points out wryly.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     As far as she knows, he's just a pilot.
     "I don't wanna be rude or assume too much. But sure, I'll happily take your number," she giggles. "But I'm open to not making decisions. Howabout if I win, you decide where we go on from here? We've had our drinks, we're about to finish our game, maybe dinner or something else is in the cards," she says. "But do you wanna go first?" the brunette asks, watching the board. "Or do you want me to go?"

Hal Jordan has posed:
So even if he loses, he wins? That's not the worst sort of wager he could make. "Okay, I think I can work with that," he says with a low chuckle, taking up his own darts and turning them slowly over in his hand, getting a feel for their weight and balance. He's not completely new at this afterall. "Mmmm, and I think it's only fair if I let you go first, since I won the last game afterall. Even if you just let me win for my brithday," he teases once more, apparently not totally buying her excuse. Though he might sound a little less certain now that he's seen her handle those darts!

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Fair enough," the woman says. She flicks her first dart. Bullseye. Second dart. Bullseye. Third one looks like it's not going to make it, but course corrects? Wait a minute! But bullseye. She goes back to her drink, sipping the melty mixture, then going to retrieve the darts. They pop back out into her hand before she gets there and she says, 'Fffff,' under her breath and pulls them back. "Okay! Okay, your turn," she says, voice a little higher.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Look, he's had a reasonable amount to drink. Enough so that he is feeling quite a bit better disposed towards life. But not so much that he's going to miss tha fact that no one throws a 'curve-dart'. This isn't baseball and darts don't move likes that. "Did you just..." he begins, equinting a little as his gaze shifts between the board and her. He doesn't pursue that line of thought however, letting the matter drop. For now. Instead Hal steps up and tosses his ownSure enough, he nails a bullseye too and follows it up with another. But the third toss slips, just a bit, landing instead in the inner ring of the 20. Pretty damn respectable. But not quite a match for her.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     Is it cheating if you're just using your natural abilities? Because Stella is doing just that.

     "That looks like someone wants to choose our next location," she says. It is giving him an out in a way, while also letting her show off. She might not get to do it that often. "I don't know that it's a ringing endorsement that I'm good at bar games," Stella says. "But I can stand back farther if you want me to pick. I'm thinking a round of three steakhouses, followed by gold-encrusted sushi if I win," she says, balancing one dart on a fingertip and then snatching it out of the air.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Well someone is certainly optomistic!

But it's not Hal. Instead he wears a bemused sort of smirk on his expression, giving a slow shake of his head. "Mmmhmmm. Well, if you want all of that I hope that security consultants get paid a damn sight more then test pilots," he says drily, pouring out another shot of that whiskey. "I might have to conceed on this game. Geez, were you born in a bar or something?" he asks. He still thinks that last toss was a little off, but never let it be said that Hal Jordan is a poor sport.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "It really depends on who our clients are but I do all right," she says. "And I wasn't born in one, but, uh... I've lingered," she laughs. "And I might be unable to be bad at this for other reasons," she says, a little uncomfortable to bring them up, but also in vino veritas. "A board game or cards would probably be more fair," she says. "Poker, maybe. Chess has been a while. Unsure if you're nerdy enough to get into Catan," she teases, trying to lift the mood and slightly change the subject. "Why, do you want me to buy you a birthday steak?" she asks. "I suppose you can pick that if I beat you! Or just admit I'd win and tell me where we're going!"

Hal Jordan has posed:
Is that a little avoidance? Fortunately Hal is pretty okay with that. It's not as if he doesn't keep a secret or two from the vast majority of people in his life so he's hardly one to cast stones. "Mmmm, I think I will conceed this one, even if I'm not too far behind yet," he acknowledges with a slow shake of his head. He still suspects that she has something a little extra going for her, but hey, as far as hustles go this one has worked out pretty well for him all things considered. "You probably know the local restaurants better than I do, though really, any place that can do a decent steak would work for me. Because yeah, you might have a short walk back to your place, but I gotta remember where my hotel is so I might want to cut back on the shots," he admits with a smirk.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "I'm actually fresh here myself! But does your hotel have a restaurant? Then you can just pop upstairs after. Or just pop upstairs with takeout," she hints. Damn, whoever she was dating broke more than ten percent of her heart. She needs a palate cleanser. "So what sounds better? Room service for your birthday, or a platonic steak of your choosing and an evenin' of chatter and then a calm solo tuck in?" She throws her darts again for emphasis, so close together that they almost split one another.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Well now, that would be a very different ending to his birthday than he ever expected when he woke up this morning. And certainly Hal would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. And as she tosses off those next three darks with unerring precision it becomes very clear indeed that there is not going to be any last minute comeback this time. "As it so happens there is a restaurant at the place I'm staying. It looks half-way decent at that," he agrees. "And you do make a rather tempting suggestion," he admtis with a wry smile. "So what don't we start heading over that way and see what we're feeling after the cool air has a chance to sober us up a little, hmmm?" he suggests.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Fair enough! I'll stop drinkin for the evening," Stella says as she gathers up her things. "Thanks for humoring me. At the very least, can I make things a little more entertaining as a dinner buddy," she says. "I wouldn't normally be this forward, but somethings things feel chaotic and a good flirt with a handsome stranger makes the world make sense again," she says. "Besides, you don't live here, right? I can disappear into the night, a mere memory of an encounter!" she says, wiggling her fingers once her coat and bag are in place.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"Hey, nothing wrong with knowing what you want and going after it," Hal says with just a hint of a smile. He doesn't have a whole lot to gather up and the bottle of whiskey has all but been polished off between the two of them so he leaves both it and the shot glasses to be collected by the staff as he starts towards the stairs once more. Maybe he feels the need to make a point, or maybe it is simple curiousity, but either way as they stroll past the pool table he abruptly stops, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder, turning her towards him. Then, trapping her between him and that table he leans in, lips finding her own lingeringly.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     So he *is* receptive.

     And so is Stella. She still does taste like the shot as she leans into the kiss. Not too drunk to make it good, paired with a soft utterance from her throat. Her chest moves forward as she gets into it, breaking it softly, "Now we definitely need that cool air. I'm not sure they'd appreciate us making out in here," she says. "Or if we'd get walked in on!" There's a giggle after that. Maybe she doesn't mind being caught in any sense of the word.

Hal Jordan has posed:
At least there's some chemistry there. More than a little self-pity and a bad breakup at least. In Hal's mind it was worth checking. Just to make sure. "I was just about to say the same thing. If we have to venture out into the cold, might as well have a good reason to cool down some," he agrees with a wink, slipping back enough so she's no longer trapped between himself and the pool table. Instead he starts back towards those stairs at her side, the stairwell wide enough that he can walk up it by her side.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     She skips happily right up the stairs. Bill tended to, she tugs him out onto the street, pulling her jacket close. "Well then, let's have a nice birthday dinner for you, Hal! Friend I just met!" she says with a big smile. "Are we telling the restaurant? Do you want your free piece of cake an a little hat depending on how they do things?" she asks. "OOh! Or we could grab you something from a late night bakery on the way, huh? Somethings gotta be open if you want a sweet treat," she says, looking at her phone for a moment, ready to search. "Whatever you like."

Hal Jordan has posed:
Well she is certainly enthusiastic enough, that much is for certain and with a nod for the bartender, he slips back out onto the cool, evening streets, the sun having set since he stopped by. It's still early enough for things to be fairly lively and the brisk breeze is refreshing rather than unpleasant, a nice contrast to the whiskey that still warms him. "Mmmmm, if we can find a spot on the way to pick something up I won't be disappointed," he admits with a chuckle. "Afterall, we're still not settled on whether we'll be dining at the restaurant or my room," he points out archly. Best to be prepared.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Hey, I won! That means the birthday gentleman gets to decide," the brunette says. "Oh! Oh, there's a darlin' little place not too far from here if you're a cake man. Still open. Are you a cake man, Hal? Or should we get ice cream?" she asks. She's very serious about this. "I love doing birthday parties! Decoratin' and everything. So this is a very toned-down Stella sort of affair," she says, shaking out that long, glorious mane of hers. "But dessert on a hotel bed is also kinda fun in its way. A shame I don't have any little sparkly lights in my bag," she says, turning towards a bakery with a pale blue and white color-scheme called "The Great Cakescape." There's still enough in the bakery cases to make for a heck of a celebration. "My treat," she says.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"Who doesn't like a good chocolate cake? Or really almost any sort of cake," Hal agrees with a little smile as she search out -- and finds -- a suitable sort of place. And it's still even early enough for it to be open and apparently have some selection left. "And really, cake is almost always bettter with ice cream so I guess you can say that I'm partial to both. I suppose I'm just greedy that way," he says with a faint grin as she in turn outlines her enthusiasm for birthday planning. And hey, it works. His birthday has certainly taken a turn for the better since running into her. "I'm certainly not going to turn down a free cake," he adds. The night's looking better and better with each passing moment.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Then you shall have it!" she says.

     She slips into the bakery and looks over the cases of cakes, seeing a few chocolate options, and notices that there's one with chocolate shavings, a little six inch delight that has yet to find a home. "Howabout that one?" she asks, tapping the glass. There are a few other options, and she waits for him to decide on that while asking, "Hey, I see you guys have ice cream sandwiches... have you got just the ice cream? Some we could have in a little to-go with the cake?" she asks. Party planner indeed. There are some small packs of candles near the register as well, and she picks up a small pack and places them near the register. "Chocolate or vanilla ice cream, what'll it be?" she asks of the birthday gentleman.

Hal Jordan has posed:
It would appear that if the security industry ever tanks that she already has her next career lined up. As someone who works two pretty different jobs himself, Hal can certainly respect that.

The little bakery does offer quite a number of appealling options but as he looks them over the sometimes pilot zeroes in on the same chocolate cake that she's pointed out. It is pretty simple, chocolate shavings aside, but looks like something appropriately birthday-like to him. "That definitely works for me," he agrees though still looking over the selections with some interest as they slowly pick their way over towards the check out. Just in case. It would be a shame to overlook something marvelously tempting just because he grabbed the first cake to catch his eye. With the confirmation that the place even has ice cream available, Hal smirks faintly. "Vanilla. Definitely the best match with chocolate cake."

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Vanilla, please! Yep, that'll do," she says, candles on the counter, cake boxed, and the ice cream loaded into a tall paper cup container. The items go into a blue paper bag with the shop's logo, and Stella pays with cash, holding up the bag in victory. "There we go. A proper birthday dessert! Not too bad for a random in a bar, huh?" she asks. "All right. Whatcha think? Back to the hotel, pop this in the fridge? Or just eat in on the bed," she grins. She's still a little tipsy and this all seems like a fantastic idea to her right now. Either that or she has absolutely no worry about going somewhere private with a complete stranger.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"I can safely say that this is the first time that a near stranger in a bar has ever plied me with cake and ice cream on my birthday," he agrees gravely, though that faint smirk threatens to break on through, pushing open the door for them and heading back out into the cool, pleasant evening air, pausing for just a moment to orient himself before turning towards his hotel. Hopefully.

He mostly sees the city from the air afterall. It's a little different with a grounds-eye view.

"I think at the very least we should get it into the little mini-fridge in my room, yeah," Hal agrees. "We can always decide then if we need something a little more substantial for dinner or if we want to dive right into dessert," he points out, just a hint of a smile playing over his expression. He may not just mean the cake and ice cream.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Oh yeah? Well then, we better make sure nothing melts," she agrees with a quick, firm nod. "You know how to get there from here? Back to your hotel?" she asks, phone already in hand. She seems to be the kind of person who has no trouble asking her phone for help, though he may be of a different mind. "I'm afraid I won't know how hungry I am until I'm up there. It's a problem, I know," she says, letting him lead as they walk past all the businesses that are still open, restaurants and a good number of phone shops and such. "But either way, I hope tonight's a little more fun for both of us than drinkin' alone in a bar," she says.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"I should be good. I'm pretty sure that I have my bearings now," Hal offers up confidently. It probably helps as well that he can always call on his ring discretely to give a helping hand as needed. And while she might not know that his confidence is backed up by one of the most sophisticated artificial intelligences around, he doesn't mind taking the lead, walking along those busy but not overcrowded sidewalks, deeper into the city's core. "Not a problem. We'll see what appetite the walk stirs up," he says, waving aside the concern before casting a grin her way. "Hey, the way I figure I'm already well ahead on what was shaping up to be a pretty depressing birthday. Everything that comes after is just gravy now. Or cake, as the case might be," he adds slyly.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "At least the cake looks pretty good! I haven't lived here very well, so I'm just guessing based on looks that it's delicious. But it looked soooo good in the case," she says, drawing out her words. There are times when it looks like she might get bumped into by other cheerfully oblivious people, but they all seem to be directed just out of the way of her, like she has a personal bubble that all respect. That's not possible, really, but she enjoys the people watching as they make it back to his temporary residence. "I kinda lucked out, I met a roommate right away when I had to scoot out of another place. She has a dog and everything, so New York's perking up for me," she says as they progress.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"I mean, it seems to me that for the most part it's pretty hard to screw up chocolate cake. There's just varying degrees of good, and even that can be mitigated some with the sizable application of vanilla ice cream. I'm sure we'll be fine," Hal assures her with that ready grin. They both seem to have some pretty good luck at not being jostled as they move along, though apparently not so much that it raises any red flags. Instead Hal just listens and nods as she explains her current situation. "I travel quite a bit. I have a place in Metropolis where I can crash when I'm out on this side of the coutry, but home is technically back on the West Coast. I'm a Coast City boy," he offers up with a faint smirk. Of course, his crash pad in Metropolis is the Hall of Justice. And he technically has an apartment on the Justice League Watchtower on the moon, and on Oa at that. But he doesn't generally go into that, at least not with a fresh face in his life.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "So I can go buck wild tonight with dessert and I don't have to worry about running into you at a later date?" she chuckles. "But I don't know much about test pilot-ing, so I'd guess that all makes sense, going lots of places to work? Or play, whatever! I've only been on the West Coast for work and a show or two, never spent much time otherwise. Family's in Ohio, and work's sort of between here and Gotham now," she says as the hotel comes into view. "Definitely a lot more goin' on here, I'll tell you that much," she says, holding that bag close.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"Well you did make sure I won your phone number, but so long as you screen your phone calls you should be fairly safe," Hal counters with a chuckle as his hotel comes into view up ahead, gesturing. "There we go. I knew it couldn't be all that far from the bar," he says wryly. "And yeah, fair bit of travel with my line of work," he admits. Though it's not really the test piloting that does it of course. Ahhh, the challenges of working two jobs. It certainly keeps life busy, sometimes at the worst of times.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "I did! I wanted you to have it. And if tonight is fun, maybe I'll catch you again next time you're in town. But the benefit is, if it goes horribly badly, we can just pretend it never happened. Very little risk," she says as they find his temporary place of residence. "I'm not that much of a risk taker. Well... kinda. I guess tonight is proving that wrong, but it just feels like time to let loose, you know?" she say as they push through the hotel doors and into the lobby, where the ice cream is in immediate danger if it's not properly housed.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"I guess I am a bit of a risk taker," he muses before giving a small shrug. It kinda comes with being a test pilot. There's more then a little in that being a Green Lantern too, truth be told. "But a calculated one, I like to think. Mostly." Every once in awhile he's been known to do things that someone else might call foolish. Others might just call it fearless. Sometimes it is a fine line. Of course one risk he is not willing to take is to let that ice cream melt so again he leads the way through the lobby to the nearest bank of elevators and the ride up to his room.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Well, lucky for me, then. I guess I could have been any number of shady people, now that I think about it. Maybe a little too excited to play pools," she says as they slip into the elevator. She's obviously excited, and possibly not just for the cake. Though it does look delicious, so tempting there in its bag, little utensils bouncing on top whenever she walks, the candles rattling in their paper package. "We might have to eat these out of the box, but depending on what's in our room, we might make it. But I'm guessing you might be okay with roughing it?" she asks as the doors give them a small bit of privacy.

Hal Jordan has posed:
He likes to think he has pretty good instincts, and for the most part that has proven true throughout his life. "Well, you are a pool hustler. That might qualify as shady," Hal says with a faint grin. It is not a long ride fortunately and in short order they are back out into the hall, heading down the corridor and around a corner. "Well, on the scale of roughing things goes, I think I can manage to eat my cake and ice cream out of the box and carton," he says with a low laugh. He has definitely faced harsher trevails. "We might not actually be able to light the candles either, given how sensitive the smoke detectors are in these places now," he points out. "But the thought was nice. Maybe I can just pretend to blow them out?" he suggests archly.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Oh, I can disable that," she says. "Don't worry about it." She seems very sure on this matter. "You've never smoked in a hotel room, Hal?" she asks, lips on the verge of a smirk. "Just gotta grab a shower cap, and I have tape in my bag. Or you can use a latex glove, comes right off when you're done. I'm starting to think I might be a bad girl in comparison, hangin' out in bars and buying strange men cake," she says as they draw closer to his room.

     Of course, there are other reasons she's sure that the smoke detector won't go off, but it's a little soon for her to drop them on the birthday boy.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"I have not. It seems that you really are a shady character afterall," he teases, retrieving the key card for the door from his wallet, pushing the door open revealling... a pretty ordinary hotel room. It's not the discount special, but it's hardly the best hotel in the city either. It would seem that being a test pilot doesn't pay astoundingly well. Still, everything looks like it's in relatively good shape all things considered, modern and clean. "The fridge is right there, in the cabinet beneath the television," he says, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it in the closet before turning to help her do the same.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     She moves the bag from hand to hand as he helps her out of her jacket, then makes her way over to the fridge, slipping the goodies inside. Under her coat, she's wearing a long-sleeved black shirt, also nothing fancy. Seems that she doesn't get too dolled up when the goal is a night out. She backs into the bed and then sits down on it. "So, you feelin' like steak, or somethin' else?" she asks. It's not a glamorous situation, not a presidential suite with a perfect view and champagne on ice, but there's plenty of treats to go around.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Hey, he was just out to drown his sorrows a little while he felt sorry for himself. No need to dress up for that. Besides, while glamor might be nice now and then, that's just not in the cards for very many. If nothing else this certainly beats a bunk in a military barracks, or roughing it outdoors. It's all relative, right? So with the cake and ice cream safely stored, he sinks down into one the chairs nestled up against a small table in the corner of the room. "Mmmm, I'm not starving, but I could eat, depending on how you're feeling."

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Depends on how well you wanna get to know me. Or if you'd rather not talk before, uh... dessert," she says, looking him over. It seems she's hungry in a few ways. "But I'm in the same place. We can always have them bring it up here if we don't feel like goin' down to the restaurant. But we can do that if you're okay with me being not-fancy," the brunette says, playing with the fringe at the end of her braid, toying with it between her fingers. Her hair must be very long for that braid to swing as far as it does.

Hal Jordan has posed:
It's a fair question. Certainly bringing someone back to his room was not something that he had in mind when he walked out the front doors this afternoon. And it's not really a good time to look to start any sort of relationship, not with everything going on with the League, with the hunt for Felix Faust and the rescue of Dr. Fate tops on the agenda. Then again, when is a good time? When is the League not facing some sort of crisis. When his commute to work can be hundreds of light years, not just miles. He purses his lips consideringly for a moment. "I don't think being a little casual is a problem. I don't have anything dressy on hand myself. So maybe we should order a little room service, hmmmm?"

Stella Roundtree has posed:
She flops onto the bed, reaching over it to grab the menu from the nightstand and then sits up with the faux-leather-bound service book in her hand. She pats the spot next to her. "So let's do it! I'm sure there's something yummy," she says, waiting for him to come and join her. She holds out the book while she leans over to unzip her boots, then tucks her legs under her body. Definitely feels very casual, but she's definitely having a good time.
     As far as she knows, all he's told her is true. There's not a clue that his after-hours job can span light years and planets away, just that she ran into someone cute and now she definitely wants to sink her teeth into something!

Hal Jordan has posed:
It is a little bit of a difficult thing to bring up during an early date. Hey, sometimes I turn all green and disappear into space for weeks at a time to play interstellar cop. We're good, right?

There are reasons that he was spending his birthday by himself afterall.

Still, he slips from his seat and joins her on the edge of the bed, settling in comfy-like and rather close to better let them both browse the selections offered. Just so that they can both browse the menu at the same time, really. Not that there is much doubt for him of course. "The restaurant downstairs looked decent enough. A cut above the standard hotel offering. I'm going to risk ordering the steak,: he says, glancing over at her to see what catches her eye.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Sounds good to me as far as dining options. I'll do the pasta with chicken," she says, tapping the menu. "You want cash? I still got some in my bag," she says. "You shouldn't have to pay for more'n drinks, after all," she says. She seems to enjoy spoiling him, even if it is a fleeting encounter. "And the desserts on here do not look as good as what we've got in the fridge!" she says, nudging him in the ribs. "So that was a brilliant choice on our parts," she says decisively. She is very close. She has a light perfume on, pear and greenery, whatever the label may say.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Hey, look at that. Decisions made, quickly and easily. One will just have to see if other decisions can be reached in such a quick, ready manner for the rest of the evening. "It's okay, really," Hal says with a quiet laugh. "They'll just charge it to the room," he assures her, reaching for the phone and putting that order in, at the last moment including a bottle of wine as well. Might as well cover the full assortment of drinks, even if he regrets it tomorrow morning. Only then does he turn back to her, stretched out beside her. "I won't argue there. Again, thanks for the suggestion. You might be a shady character but you've definitely brightened up the birthday cheer," he notes with a grin.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Why thank you!" she says, quite perky at the compliment. "I'm a nice lady, really. I just might do a few semi-questionable things to get what I want and need," she says. "So, in the meantime, do I at least get another kiss? Seems fair," she says, pressing into him more. "Or is this going to be literally what we've said. Actual food and actual dessert, and a call next time you're in town?"

Hal Jordan has posed:
"We've probably got a decent wait on our hands until the food is delivered," Hal points out with a faint grin, one arm slowly slipping around her, drawing her just a little closer. "So you might be in store for more than just one kiss. There might be two. Even three," he points out in mock-astonishment. "Though there might not be any harm in getting to know a little more about one another between those kisses," he notes with a wry grin. They've got some time, right? Just how distracting can a few kisses be?

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "That's fair. I'm not usually a one night stand or stranger-picker-upper, but I assume there's not too much talkin'. This does make it feel like it's a little more on the up and up," Stella agrees. She doles out one of those kisses right away, eating up their budget in a hurry with that first press of intimacy. "So... you know I do security, an' you do test piloting, what else is important? I live here with a roommate, covered that. I like music, particularly live shows. I like sweet treats, and playing guitar, but it's hard to enjoy both at the same time," she says, settling in close to him.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Regardless of what might be on the label of her perfume bottle she does smell very good indeed, those social nicities delayed for the first of those promised kisses. "I guess it all depends. But problably not," he admits drily. BUt hey, it takes all sorts. Travelling to the far reaches of the galaxy tends to hammer that home pretty quickly. "You play the guitar, hmmm? I've always thought it would be nice to learn to play something but my musical inclinations are not exactly what one would call impressive," he conceeds. "Lets see, I live alone too, at least when I'm out west. I share the place in Metropolis with a few people, but it's surprisingly spacious." Which might be a little bit of an understatement. "I grew up a military brat, moving around a lot until my dad became a test pilot too."

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Metropolis is expensive, I'd imagine. No harm in having roommates, obviously." She stays snuggled in close. "Sounds like the urge to move around might've stuck, huh? And yeah! My dad gave me one when I was six, when my mom was pregnant with my sister. My uncle lived with us and he played guitar, so it was a good distraction to keep me from bugging my mom when the baby and needed a lot of attention. I'd practice songs for her. Luna- that's my sister- just got engaged, so I'm okay being away from bridezilla for the duration," she laughs. "Between our names, you can probably figure out what my parents are like."

     "Anyway, my folks have a little farm," she says, smirking a little at that. "But it's really just a hobby. Mostly my dad's an electrician and my mom volunteers a lot. But they like to pretend that the farm is more than a way to get fresh milk and eggs. I do kinda miss that here. But hey, at least I'm meetin' some friendly people while I'm here! Hell, I met a superhero right away and my roommate's datin' at least one. I kinda suspect the other guy."

Hal Jordan has posed:
"I got a pretty good deal all things considered," Hal agrees with a smile. Like, for free. He just has to periodically save the world when he's hanging around Earth. No biggie.

He falls silent, listening to her share a little bit about her family, about learning the guitar and coping with her sister and the farm. The path that could have been, right? If dad had been willing to give up flying. Of course, he's hardly one to talk. Giving up flying would seem very much like cutting off one of his arms.

"Sounds like you're pretty close all things considered. I'm kind of the blacksheep in my family," he admits with a quiet laugh. "I think all of them would appreciate it if I gave up the test pilot thing and maybe settled down some. Less travelling and all of that," he admits with a smirk and a shrug. That is... unlikely to happen anytime soon.

He blinks at the coincidence, arching a brow as he cuddles in with her. "You met a superhero? And your roomate's dating one? Or more than one? Anyone I would have heard of?" he asks curiously. It is a pretty small community in the grand scheme of things afterall."

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Yeah! Sorta. I was a pretty tough kid to handle for... reasons," she says, avoiding getting into them. "That's why we had to move, I kept gettin' into fights at school. But nature reformed me and I am no longer punching boys who try to push me," Stella says.

     "And you gotta follow your passion! If a test pilot is who you are, you can only do that so long, right? Actually, I don't know about that, can it be something you can do long term?" she asks.

     "Oh yeah, I met a few," she says. "Blue Beetle saved me after one of my clients maced me in the face. She thought I was her husband's mistress," Stella laughs. "An' I met Booster Gold through him." Oh boy, still a little drunk, it seems. "Nice enough guys. I like their robots," she says. "Both mutant-friendly, which is nice..." And then she panics, "You know, just because it's nice that they're nice... about that. Uh, I said 'nice' a lot in that sentence, huh?" she says.

Hal Jordan has posed:
"I probably was too, really. You're not alone in that," Hal offers up wryly. Though their difficulties were likely for two very different reasons. "I didn't get into a lot of fights. Some, but not a lot. But I didn't reallly have much of a sense of caution. And after my dad died in a crash, well, needless to say I was probably responsible for a lot of my mom's grey hairs," he admits.

"And yeah, that's probably one reason they would all like me to find another line of work. And yes, it is probably something that has a shelf life. I'll have to find another way to keep flying when the reflexes start to go a bit. But until thenm you're not wrong. It's hard to give up something you love doing.

It really is a small world, isn't it? Hal has been a part of the superhero community longer then most. And of course the two she names are associated with the Justice League in this case. "Ahhhh, well there you go. I have heard of both of them," he says with a brief smile, dipping his head in acknowledgement. "Glad to here that they made a decent impression. You never know sometimes how people like that will come off." Is this the moment? It kinda feels like there's an opening right there to be open and direct. Unlike some of his peers he is not radically dedicated to keeping any trace of his identity hidden. But he's not exactly cavalier about it either.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "I'm sorry to hear bout your dad. I guess your family probably does want you to be safe. But I'm sure there's somethin' you can find to keep you flying that's not as dangerous," she says. "I'm sure your mom worries about you. " You know, probably about him ending up with strange shady women in a hotel room, though the cake part not so much.

     "Oh yeah, they're fine. I actually dated Blue Beetle for like... a week," she laughs, shaking her head. "And what a week it was! Whew. He's fine, he's a helpful dude and all..." she says. "But just didn't line up, such is life," she says. "It's just strange. Guys in costume and all that," she says. "So form-fitting. Like... I dunno. Some have armor, but a lot of 'em don't, huh? Like whenever there's pictures. It's just allll out there."

     "But meh, whatever. My roomie's big on that sorta thing, so I'm sure I'll meet a few more over time," Stella shrugs. "What kind of wine did you get again?" she asks giving his neck a nuzzle.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Realistically, watching his dad's plane crash probably should have put him off of flying. But there's that whole lack of fear thing, or at least an unwillingness to acknowledge it. Maybe he's always had it, maybe it comes from that event. Either way, it makes him somewhat of a contrarian when it comes to things like that and the more people push him to walk away, the more he tends to hold on. "Hey, it is what it is. I understand their concern but I pretty much decided a long time ago that fear wasn't going to guide my choices. I love flying. I love flying fast. Sitting in the cockpit of a big passenger airliner wouldn't be the same thing," he admits.

Hmmm, so what exactly does the 'Bro code' say about these sorts of things? It is not as if he and Ted are best buds or anything, but he is at least an occasional teammate. Ahhhh, the complications. He probably shouldn't have asked quite so many questions. And her nuzzling is not really helping to think things through all rational-like either!

"Mmmmm, certainly a possibility. Especially in big, east coast cities like this," he agrees, one hand starting to roam a little. "And I ordered a Pinot Noir. It should go pretty good with your chicken and my steak."

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     The nuzzling is escalating into a few more kisses. She's definitely past three.

     "Well, gotta keep going then, I'd imagine. Just Ricky Bobbying your way through it. Though that had a pretty happy ending, so maybe you end up with a nice Amy Adams. Now I'm just hoping you've seen that movie," Stella says, giving him some air and leaning back. "I mean, I guess they'd all hang out together at some point. Was really hard picturing the day to day. And now I can. It was... surprisingly normal," she says. And she decides that personal space is overrated.

     "But enough about them. You seem pretty fit yourself,' she says, giving him a petting of her own, feeling up his side, "Is that a test pilot thing? I guess they'd want you to be in great shape for it, but I really have no idea," she says, giving him a more forward kiss on the lips. The hands are moving, after all. Her budget is nearly up!

Hal Jordan has posed:
All things considered it's probably a good thing that they don't have too long a wait ahead of them for their food, given how things are progressing. Or maybe that's not such a great thing. Right at the moment Hal is not too certain just what state his judgement happens to be in.

"I do indeed get your reference," he finally manages to murmur between nuzzling kisses. "Though I am not sure how flattering of a comparison it is," he manages drily. They are definitely well past that agreed upon limit, but then that frequently tends to be the case with this sort of thing.

He's certainly not objecting to the change in topic -- or the lack of personal space -- and his lips curve into a wry smile, his own hand trailing down her side. "It's fairly important yeah. G Forces can exert something of a toll," he agrees. "Of course I could say the same about you as well. I guess security work sort of requires much the same."

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "That's fair. But a lot of security guys can get up there poundwise. I gotta stay nimble so I can crawl into spaces," she says. She seems intent on demonstrating this. "But I am liking this talk about exertion. Maybe that should come before the wine?" she suggests. If that's the case, their meals might get chilly.

     "Or we can just make out a little and have dinner, and then next time you're in town, you can call me and we'll set something up. I am open to that either way," she says, her hand definitely getting more personal.

Hal Jordan has posed:
It's true, that things are a little more complicated than when he first left the bar with her. But a few complications he can generally deal with.

The bed is a whole lot more comfy admittedly with her close proximity and he can't help but grin a little as she demonstrates just how good she is at crawling. "Mmmmm, I can see how that could be very important indeed," he admits with a low laugh, hands grazing down her sides. "I have to admit, I wouldn't mind seeing you again if you wouldn't mind me giving you a call sometime," he conceeds. "And while it would be a shame to let our food get cold, we do always have dessert waiting, so there is that..." he points out oh so reasonably.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     "Yeah? Well, in that case... howabout we just do the makeout part, and I leave you wanting more," she says, leaning over his lap and kissing him once more. She takes it slow this time, a little more sober, a little more focused. Which is good, because there is soon a knock at their door. My, my, they are quick with the food here, but more importantly, the wine! She turns towards the door, and then back to him, "Because I would really like to see you again after this."

Hal Jordan has posed:
"Saved by the bell," he murmurs wryly. "Or the knock as the case may be," Hal says wryly, disentangling from her at last, slipping off the bed to go over to the door. Their order is rolled in and put on that same table in the corner before the server discretely makes his exit. It's possible that they are both just a little rumpled by now. And with the food finally present, Hal realizes just how hungry he actually is. Still, he flashes a grin towards Stella and manages to restrain himself long enough to pour two glasses of the red wine, offering one to her before raising his own up. "To a much better birthday then I expected. And our next meeting," he adds with a wink.

As far as birthdays go, this one has been pretty damn good.

Stella Roundtree has posed:
     And it is actually a pretty pleasant evening. She asks about some flight stories, and chats a bit about nightmare clients (all nicknamed, of course, because she is a professional!), and after dinner, she does as promised. Up on the bed in bare feet, she carefully tapes a shower cap from the bathroom over the fire alarm. Candles are put in place on that delicious dessert, and a lighter from her purse does the rest. She even turns out the lights for maximum impact!

     It is a very good cake. Decadent and rich, mixing in with the melted ice cream as they go. She actually doesn't drink more than one glass of wine, leaving him with the rest. "I should get back, but... yeah. A real date next time, where I know your name before we start." She tug on her boots and jacket, giving him a kiss on the cheek before she leaves. "Happy birthday, Hal."