12054/Strange Relations

Strange Relations
Date of Scene:	17 July 2022
Location:	Folkvangr
Synopsis:	What do you do with a drunken Catman is answered.
Cast of Characters:	Thomas Blake, Michael Hannigan, Zinda Blake
Tinyplot:	Theme_of_the_Crime

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Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake Has enjoyed the endless supply of venison steaks at Folkvangr. He even came to be well regarded after initial caution. He started to use up that regard fast, showing up in his leathers and gauntlets and ordering many drinks. The manager wisely called Gotham Cable and was referred to Shaw Studios. He soon started singing, doing knife tricks and then offering ides on his tiger.

Fucking Blakes.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike is tired. Being that just yesterday he was on the outskirts of Latveria dealing with ...things, the flight back hadn't concluded that long ago. And once again the check in call with Wade resulted in him staying at the Happy Harbor retreat location to catch the much needed Zs. Much needed Zs that were interrupted by Wade contacting him again asking for a favor.

And so this is how Mike showed up at the Folkvangr. Tired, wearing a simple outfit consisting of jeans and a tee. His hair was pulled back into a half assed pony-tail and there's the general aire of IDGAF radiating off of him.

And yet he is here, being shown to where Thomas is by the host.

Zinda Blake has posed:
The call was relayed through Blackhawk Transport directly to Zinda. After hanging up, Lady Blackhawk had a few very unladylike things to say about one of her relatives.

On the other hand it's been too long since she had to haul someone out of a bar. This could prove to be an enjoyable evening.

It's not long after Mike enters that a tremendous commotion is heard outside. The UH-1 Huey's rotors are a reasonable equivalent to a hurricane, even though it sets down in a cleared area close to the Folkvangr (as opposed to in the parking lot).

The engine cuts off and the noise is still dying down when Zinda bursts into the place. She is wearing jeans and boots, a prinstine white t-ehirt beneath a vintage flight jacket, plus her trademark blonde curls and a grin.

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake says, "Wade Shaw is a fucking narc. He should have let you sleep. He could have called another friend of mine. like... " He falls to playing chicken stabbing a knife between his fingers with precision. "Go home Mike. I'm closing this place."

His eyes narrow as he hears the chopper outside. They widen as Zinda enters.

"I liked you better with the hat."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike comes over to the bar in time for Thomas to make his observation about Wade. "Wade Shaw got a phone call that basically said it's me coming here or the police and I don't think you or the police need that headache."

Hearing Thomas's greeting directed over to the elder Blake, Mike looks over to her. "Evening. Phonecall too?"

Zinda Blake has posed:
"Sorry, nephew, that's fer special occasions." Zinda quips back. "It's an antique, y'know." She doesn't head immediately over to Thomas, but makes a detour in the direction of strong drink first. Mike gets a knowing look.

"Heya, Sugah! Somethin' like yours' Ah'd expect." Zinda lowers her voice just a notch, which means the WHOLE room can't hear it. "Gonna need a hand here in just a sec." The knowing look gets a knowing wink as Zinda heads towards Thomas with a couple pewter tankards of ale.

She offers the one in her right hand, careful not to spill. "Here ya' go. Careful now..."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake takes the tankard. Zinda's legendary right hook follows and is really a thing of beauty as it smashes into his jaw. His eyes roll back then focus on Zinda, flashing angrily. He gets to his feet and draws his hand back, claws popping from his glove. Then he misses by a mile and flips himself over the table, to land on his feet, before falling on his face.

"Sometimes... landing on yuh feet don't mean shit..."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
It is a good thing that Zinda gave a small warning before following through. That warning saved Mike the added effort of sitting down only to get right back up.

What? He had been thinking about talking things out. That could take awhile.

After watching the quick exchange go off, the tired musician blinks. Ok, so change of plans. Remove, THEN soothe. Got it. Mike moves over to where Thomas fell, and crouches down. "Hey Tom. Maybe we can take this back to the estate tonight? I'm sure Rasputin's missing you."

Maybe?

Well. Thomas is probably feeding him so that'd be reason.

Zinda Blake has posed:
The claws are a surprise, and Zinda's blue eyes go wide at the sight. The wide swing and failed acrobatics *are* something she's seen before, however, usually in the closing act of so many bar fights. Leaning in, she takes a deep drink from the tankard she's still holding, trying to avoid sloshing more of the ale onto the floor.

"Stay -down-, Thomas. Listen to Mike, now, yeah? Be a lot easier if you leave with us. Ah'll even give you a fun ride in a hee-lee-o-copter."

"C'mon, now. How's that sound? Be a real shame to dent this pretty mug on yer thick noggin' an' waste more ale."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake's eyes uncross. "You soothing or cracking me in the skull? Make up your mind. Rasputin's sleeping."

Thomas rolls over and gets up slowly. He looks at his hand and says, "Holy fuck. How long these tings been out?" He snaps them back in. Then he looks at Zinda and attempts to hug her, "Sorry Aunt Zinda. Really sorry. I shouldn't have... done that but I get punched and I go crazy. Sometimes I don't need a punch. I'llllll go back to the house. It just ain't a home, you know? No place is. What I told my daughter... she should stay away."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
As Thomas gets up, so does Mike. He watches quietly as Thomas makes his apologies to Zinda. He offers up a small smile once Thomas is done. "Okay. We'll head back now. Don't worry about the bill. Wade's settling it."

The mention of a daughter does get a bit of a look but the musician shakes it off. "I'll stick around as long as you need me to." He offers, not daring to speak for Zinda.

Zinda Blake has posed:
Zinda Blake settles easily into the hug, keeping one arm free because, well, still holding the ale. She grins up at him as she eases a shoulder under his arm for support. "S'okay, sugah. You ain't th' first person Ah know who needed a lil' tap to get his attention."

Zinda pauses to drain her tankard in a long, steady pull before setting it down and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Ah'm serious about th' chopper ride, nephew." she looks over to Mike, giving a nod of appreciation as well. "We'll keep th' doors open. Night air an' thumpin' rotors are great therapy." Another glance is exchanged with Mike and she adds. "Ah'll stay up with ya', too."

As the three make their way to the door, Zinda adds. "Next time Ah'll wear my other jacket. Thought Ah had mah brass knuckles in this'n...."