15601/Super Tea

Super Tea
Date of Scene:	12 August 2023
Location:	Candle, Booke and Belle (East Village)
Synopsis:	Jon Kent comes to Nettie to spill some tea. Belinda joins in the fun.
Cast of Characters:	Jon Kent, Nettie Crowe, Belinda Gutierrez

---

Jon Kent has posed:
It's a quiet, warm, summer night. Jon has been a little agitated lately because of attacks by Mister Mxyzptlk. So this evening finds him walking in New York as Jon Kent, hands in pockets, just minding his own business. And look what he comes upon! The Candle, Booke and Belle in the East Village (infuriatingly missing an Oxford comma). Is it coincidence? Subconscious navigation? Magic? It's hard to say, but Jon has been meaning to do something for a while now. So in the skinny, nerdy teen goes, pushing his thick-framed glasses up his nose as he does. "Hello?" he calls out.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    In comes the skinny, nerdy teen into the Candle, Booke & Belle. And also, over his head, the flapping of a bird who manages to make his perch on an overhead rafter in the shop, between some early Halloween decorations, and up comes the dimunitive proprieter of the shop, one Nettie Crowe. The gray-haired witch gives a small smile and a wave of her hand. "Come on down, poppet --" she calls out in a warm voice, "What can we get started for you? Cuppa cooled tea? Scone?"

    Krack-BOOM! rattles some thunder outside, and she pauses, and tilllts over her tea bar "... new umbrella?"

Jon Kent has posed:
Glancing up, Jon notes the bird. Oddly, he seems a bit nervous by the presence of the creature. He remembers another bird associated with Nettie who didn't make it. All of this magic is bit much for the young half-Kryptonian. "I dunno what your deal is," he mutters up at the bird, "But stay up there or I'm gonna make a pillow out of you."

When Nettie arrives, a warm, pleased smile blooms across Jon's features. It's the expression reserved for a friend, not for a stranger, which Nettie ostensively is to Jon. "Hey, Nettie," he says. He stops in the middle of the room and draws in a deep, long breath. He has done what he is about to do a handful of times, and it never, ever gets easier. "Got any Coke?" he inquires.

The thunder outside doesn't seem to faze him.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Wouldn't try it Lad." Corvax mutters from his rafter -- but it might just be a trick of the weather or mood in the tea house.

    At the question, Nettie just gives a small smile.

    She motions to a stool across from her, and retrieves from under the counter a pair of tea cups. Her own is dark purple and smokey gray with crows on it (quite thematic), and Jon's is blue and red stripes.

    "If you would rather have a coca-cola, I'm sure I can find one. As long as you don't mind the glass bottles." she comments quietly to Jon.

Jon Kent has posed:
Another glance up at that bird. It's enough to unnerve a guy. A sigh. He starts to pace rather than to sit where Nettie bade him. "Nettie, I..." He blows out a breath, leaving his bangs to cascade out of control for an instant. "I want...ahhhh, why is this so hard?"

Finally, after some additional pacing, Jon sits where he was instructed. "A glass bottle is just fine," he says. "Thank you."

One more side-glance up at that bird.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Certainly, hang tight." the old witch states, dropping down to the side and rattling about in what might be a cooler.

    "I find the best thing, when something is hard to say, is to spit it out and worry about the aftermath. After all, unless it's 'goodbye --'" POP clink fzzzzzzz... and the glass bottle is set up in front of Jon before she straightens up.

    "Then you always have the chance to follow up."

Jon Kent has posed:
It's almost as if the popping of the soda bottle startles Jon. He gets up again and starts to pace. "Nettie, I..." He exhales, clenches and unclenches his fists, then in one quick moment takes off his glasses and tosses them on the tabletop. "My name is Jon Kent. And I'm Superboy."

He takes another huge breath and sits back down. He picks up the Coke and drains it in one long drink. I mean, he doesn't need to breath in the traditional sense.

Plopping the bottle down on the table hard, but not hard enough to break it, Jon peers directly at Nettie. "Thank you for the Coke."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "A pleasure to meet you, Jon Kent." Nettie gives a small smile, leaning at the counter as the witch regards Jon with curiosity.

    "Thank you for trusting me with the information. I used to be known as The Greywitch, back in the day." she explains, and gives a small, conspirital smile. "And you're familiar with my familiar, Corvax. Same soul, new body." she explains regarding the crow who comes down from the rafters and lands on the counter.

    "Hullo again, young Mr. Kent." the bird states, ruffling feathers.

Jon Kent has posed:
As though he can only tolerate being vulnerable for so long, Jon grabs his glasses in surprisingly unsteady hands and puts them back on his face. They are, of course, not nearly enough to hide his identity. But when he puts them on, his entire demeanor shifts, his body language, his self-confidence. What a toll it must take to live two such different lives.

"I know that you have special powers," Jon says, his gaze roaming *anywhere* but on Nettie. He's going to need a bit more to recover from telling his secret to someone new. "And if Gabby trusts you, then that seals the deal for me. She is a very special friend to me. I trust her with my life."

Nervous hands fidget with the empty soda bottle. "I may have...I may have told your familiar that I was going to make a pillow out of it." The young half-Kryptonian glances up at the bird momentarily. "Sorry," he says to it.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Crows make terrible pillows regardless. Not enough down. Too ornery." Nettie replies, "Luckily we also make horrible doormats." she adds as she pours herself tea, and then pours Jon tea as well.

    "Eh. Not the worst threat anyone's ever visited 'pon me, lad." Corvax states.

    Nettie gives a small smile, and a nod.

    "Miss Kinney is quite the extraordinary young woman. She has managed to keep the League Dark together through some hard times with her upbeat leadership -- and has sacrificed some in the background. I know I, for one, trust her with not just my life --" but she motions around the shop "... we may not be as marketable or noble as your senior, but we work as hard to keep the peace in this world... and the next."

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon peers dubiously at the tea, from which coils of steam climb upward in a beguiling dance. He picks up the cup. He doesn't pick up on the fact that Nettie provided him with a red and blue cup. Coincidence? Maybe. But a place like this probably has fewer coincidences than the world outside the door. He takes a sip and winces, setting it down. "Oh my gosh, Nettie, that is horrifying," he says, peering at his host with steepled eyebrows and an apologetic look.

"You know, I used to ignorantly think the JL Dark was a group of ne'er-do-wells who just couldn't play by the rules." A shrug. A clearing of the throat. "But I've seen you guys in action, and you true heroes, true saviors of the people." Jon licks dry lips. "I'm glad you guys are out there."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Don't get us wrong. We're a bunch of ne'er-do-wells who don't play nicely with others and regularly eschew the rules. I've managed magical mercenaries, admirable assassins, vicious vampires..." Nettie gives a bright smile, and shakes her head "IT's what we do. I rely on them, and when it counts, we are there. I usually joke we're just not as marketable as the proper Justice League --" she pauses "And we aren't, because we're the ones who can do the dirty work when it's called for, when there's no other choice." she explains quietly, and sips her tea.

    "And we're good at it."

Jon Kent has posed:
As evidenced by him shifting in his seat, this concept seems to bother Jon. "I guess it's easier being in the Justice League. We get cheering crowds and selfies and autographs, and we get to lean into a set of rules to govern our behavior. Straight lines and 90-degree-angles." Another shrug. "I dunno, sometimes the broadsword isn't the correct tool, and only a scalpel will do."

He picks up the cup of tea, steels himself for it, and drinks the rest of it down in one wincing drink. His gram would be very upset if he wasted food or drink.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I was a nurse. You'd be amazed how much damage an unqualified person with a scalpel can do." she seems to chew on a thought for a moment before she states wryly:

    "Jon, I wouldn't have been offended if you didn't like the tea. Or I could've added honey. Sometimes it's OK to say 'no', duckie." she states with a playful purse of her lips, and she stretches her fingers again, then wraps them around her own hot cup.

    "And any time you want to supervise-dabble with us ne'er-do-wells, you let me know. I won't let you get too far into the muck."

Jon Kent has posed:
Fidgety fingers fidget with the now-empty tea cup. "My gram is very serious about not wasting food. I wouldn't do anything to disappoint her."

Then Jon looks up again, locking his gaze with Nettie's. Speaking of disappointing his gram: "That was the first time I've ever been involved with killing something, Nettie, with those skinwalkers," he says imploringly. "Where there exists life, there exists hope for redemption, the possibility for change. But when you take away that life by force, all hope ends there. And then all of a sudden you have a new tool in your toolbox that you didn't have before. And each time you use it, it gets easier and easier."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie's eyebrows rise up, and she sets her jaw in a tight hold as she listens to Jon. She takes a deep breath, and she looks up to the rafters, as if the answer for all morality was drifting overhead, like smoke. Or a ghost.

    "Jon. Once someone chooses to become a skinwalker, and enacts the ritual to do so, there is no turning back. There is no redemption, or recovery on this world." she explains softly.

    "In order to become a skinwalker, you use the skin of a relative. These were people who ruthlessly murdered, skinned, and then ate family members." she explains softly. There wasn't any way to euphemise this; this was a hard topic to work.

    "And you had the wisdom to know that you were not ready to handle them. You may never be able to handle that work, and that's okay." she confirms quietly, "Just as there are so many of us who work in the dark, we need those who will be in the light, to work within the framework and to be the Ideal."

    "And personally, I hope it never becomes easier for you." she comments with a gentle, almost grandmotherly tone in her voice. "The same way I don't wish Belinda or Miss Kinney to see the things I have seen, or to experience the horrors I have. All of the elder heroes should have such hopes for you young bucks, from your senior to Batman, to Constantine and his lady wife, to Zatanna and Red Tornado and all of us who have logged more years than good ideas." she replies, and with a gloved hand, she very gently pats on Jon's hand, if he lets her.

    "You are a Good Lad, Jon."

Jon Kent has posed:
As Nettie speaks, Jon locks in and listens. His very existence has been shaped by his elders, his betters, and he learned from an early age that you honor those who came before by giving them your respectful and honest attention. Whether it's a wise old witch in a tea shoppe, your holographic grandfather from a long-dead world that somehow has still been so instrumental in shaping the destiny of Earth, or any of the elder heroes in the Justice League.

It's an easy thing for Jon to clasp Nettie's gloved hand in both of his. He is a paragon of affection and connection. To touch a Kryptonian -- even through a glove -- is an altogether different thing than touching a human. First there is the warmth, like a person with a low-grade fever. And, too, there is the sense of being enclosed by hands that could crush hardened steel (and they can!) but can also be as gentle as a newborn lamb.

"Thank you, Nettie. You are an honorable warrior in your own right. And I hope you will consider me a friend. I would be honored." A small squeeze, just a tiny one for emphasis.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Trust me, Jon. If I didn't consider you a friend, I wouldn't risk touching you." Nettie replies, and she gives his hand a squeeze as well. Only hers is about as hard as she can, since when does she EVER get to touch an alien?!

    "Psh. I'm not honorable, besides. Did I ever tell you about the time I stole a tank while drunk in France, and had to give a report starkers?" she questions.

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon allows Nettie to hold on for as long as she wants. Why? Because it is his nature.

Suddenly Jon's ears and cheeks pink up a bit and his lips curl into a smile. "Wait, what? Did you say you stole a TANK? While you were drunk. Sick! I totally want to hear this!"

He peers around on the table at the teacups and the teapot. With a small, embarrassed wince he peers back to Nettie. "Would it be possible to get another Coke, please?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The bell chimes, rings in its brassy, glorious way! But it is not for doom the bell tolls; instead, a set of brown paper boxes enter, propelled by one Belinda Gutierrez (who has gotten rather good at shoving the door open with foot when arms are fully occupadeo!)

"Buen dias Abuela!" comes Belinda's cheery voice. "Groceries gotten, though Mr. Franzimo tried to raise the price on eggs AGAIN." Complaint cheerfully given, she sighs audibly as she walks from the ravenous heat outdoors into the relative cool of the store's interior. Between ear and memory and scent, she all but dances between the displays, humming quietly as she moves within. "They did not have the scone mix you asked about, but they did have some ingrediants for dough. And hola, Mr. Mann!"

She glances over the top of her box, eyes twinkling in sparkling mirth. And a firm look! "Hand is well, si?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Buenos dias mi mocita! Gracias!" Nettie greets Belinda cheerily "Eh, Franzimo is always trying to raise the price of his eggs from the cooler to the counter. Until he starts laying them himself we pay what's labeled!" she chides, and digs out an additional Mexican coke for the two youngsters -- nothing with corn syrup in HER pantry!

    They're both opened with flicks of her thumbs and set down.

    "I was just about to share one of the stories, sordid and awful, regarding my wife and my misadventures in France along with battlelines. Care to pause your chores for a scone or biscuit, duckie?"

Jon Kent has posed:
When Belinda enters, Jon gives her a warm smile. "It's Jon Kent. But not Mr. Kent, just Jon." I mean, he's 19 and due to his Kryptonian heritage he looks like a high school student. But then the young half-Kryptonian cants his head a bit, peering oddly at Belinda. The warm smile on his face takes on an amused essence. He glances curiously at Nettie and then back to Belinda. Given his suite of powers, it would not be a huge leap to consider that he might have discovered something about Belinda.

But then that amazing Mexican Coke comes out and that grabs Jon's attention. Kid *loves* Coke. "Thanks, Nettie."

He takes a normal sip, not the super super one-shot he did on the previous soda. But he almost spit-takes when Nettie continues. "You have a *wife*? And you stole a tank in France? While you were drunk?" His cheeks turns a pleased red as he laughs. "This is gonna be so dope. Best. Day. Ever."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda grins with delight, setting the twin boxes down with a chuff and a clink of glass bottles within. "Was this the one where you stole that Nazi scout company's horses?" she asks mischieviously, humming as she steals up for a quick hug from Mrs. Crowe. She casts a quick wave to the rafters for Corvax, turning back with a weary stretch, fanning herself. "I think the heat is finally going to break soon. The breeze is working its way up some; no promises though!" She purses her lips, exhaling as she gives a welcome grin. "Ah, I see you are a person of excellent taste senor!" She offers her Coke Mexicano in clinking cheers, sipping hers down with a careful swallow. A wince.

"Still seems very strong," she murmurs, glancing at the can. "People drink these every day? All the time?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "THAT is a *very* different Crow who stole the horses." Nettie comments to Belinda as she very warily gives the young woman a hug (not a movement she's familiar with, it appears), and then settles in.

    "Yes. I had a wife -- her name was Adelaide Flynn. Six feet of red-haired Irish Hellfire, ate tacks for breakfast an' would spit 'em out if you crossed her." Nettie gives a wink, and she looks to Belinda.

    "You shouldn't be drinking them all day every day; it takes rust off metal, imagine what it's doing to your spleen, duckie!" she protests, and gives a clearing of her throat.
    "So. Me, m' wife and six of our closest friends and cohorts -- two pilots an' six nurses all together decided we were due a bit of R&R. Now," she gives a grin, and claps her hands together. And There was just a bit of illusion as she leans forward on the tea counter to show off.

    It showed some figures, women, wearing nurse's caps and two with aviator hats, in the woods. One was naked, but politely covered by little feathers for a PG-13 viewing.

     "We ended up closin' down the local public house, La Lapine, with a *rousing* rendition of On Ilkla Moor Baht 'at -- official song of my native lands, at the same time as singing a bit of a ditty from m' lassie's native Ireland called Seven Drunken Nights, in spite of the fact that we were eight drunken ladies, and somehow I'd lost my skirt and knickers and jumper in the process... was a bit of a wild one in my seventies, don't imitate me, Belinda." she gives a grin. The figures all spin and circle.

    "An' so's we came upon these lads three, guardin' what we thought was a captured tank. What *LUCK*, thought I, as I was a wee bit chilled on account of being a wee bit naked... so's while my friends chatted up the lads in French, and they were answering in French, me and my lady love..."

    And at that point in the story, a robotic cat smoothly hops up onto the counter as Nettie sets the now warmed cookies and scones down, and gives a soft 'tut' at the cat!

    "... well, stole the tank."

Jon Kent has posed:
Jon is utterly enraptured by the story. He occasionally take a swig of Coke. A couple times he elbows Belinda's shoulder as he laughs. But one thing he doesn't do it let his attention waver. And even though the image shown is PG-13, Jon still averts his gaze away from it and his cheeks redden a bit.

"Can you believe this?" he says to Belinda in the tone one would not use with someone they just met, but rather with an odd familiarity. "Nettie was a wildcat back in the day!"

"OH!" the young half-Kryptonian exclaims when a...excuse me...robotic cat jumps up on the counter. "Golly, what is that!" Jon blurts out. Being composed of a physiology that is immune to pretty much nearly everything, he doesn't seem scared by it. "What. Is. That?" he asks, half shocked and half with wonder.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda hugs. She's huggy! But keeps the gesture brief-- is getting more familiar with those who think it awkward!

"Yes'm," the young lady affirms for Mrs. Crowe, humming quietly as she settles to one side of Jon. Ears perked, she listens raptly, hiding a giggle behind her hand-- though whether at the suitably-censored illusions (or at Jon's response to them) is an open question.

"If I dare to guess," she continues, "It was nothing like driving a tractor or truck or car." She tilts her head, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "Where there steering wheels? Pedals for brakes and acceleration and clutch? Or--"

Further questions diverted-- she stares at the sudden robotic feline, eyes widening in bright surprise.

"Dios, Abuela! Does Iron Man know that you stole his lap cat? Or should we expect Mr. Cyborg to appear and glower sternly because we have no metal polish?" She leans down over the counter, gazing in wonder at the bright LED eyes. Robocat!

"Hello, Robogato!" she murmurs quietly. "Where have you been hiding all these days!"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "This here --" Nettie begins, scooping up the cat as you would a normal pet, and curling her fingers against the metallic casing, causing the feline to give a rumbling, robotic rattle of a purr, its LEd eyes blinking off and on to simulate the slow blink of a living feline.

    "Is Elizabeth. She was a gift from a former student of mine. You see, most animals cannot stand being around me a long time... on account of the association with death. Some black cats can, mind. Some black dogs. Crows and rats and ravens." she explains, and wrinkles her nose "And that one time, a vulture got very attached when I went to Reno." she recalls, and then she holds the cat close.

    "Usually she's in my study downstairs. That's where her recharge station is. Keeps her from getting underfoot mm?" she states, and she gives a sly look to Jon.

    "I've got stories from the 1970's that would likely turn your mum's hair white if I told you." she jokes, and then sets the cat back down, who proceeds to attempt to hug Corvax, who caws in protest and takes cover on the stool next to Belinda.

    "Monstrrrrrosity!" he caws in jealousy.

    "Oh, driving a tank's a bit like drivin' a tractor; takes a crew of three to really do everything. And I should have known that it wasn't a *BRITISH* tank -- no tea making facility!" she replies.

    And it's true. British tanks have tea pots.

    "Anyway, since my lovely lady was night-blind on account of my paleness and I was drunk, we ended up crashing in through the wall of a house that -- lo and behold! -- had a couple of folks who were fixing to make off with some information to Berlin. Had to make a report in a pair of old nan's knickers and a nightshirt since I 'Sacrificed my Uniform' for victory an' had to pull it offa m'self on account of psychotropic substances."

    And she gives a distant look.

    "When the captain said 'yes, that's the spirit, Ladies, I had to answer back 'no sir, no spirits -- it was wine.'"

Jon Kent has posed:
The robotic cat is absolutely bananas! And the jealous crow! Jon just seems to take in all of these new sensations and experiences with glittering eyes and a warm, brilliant, genuine smile. Jon, the Goodest Boy.

"I bet those spies never heard the end of that from their spy...um...friends...at spy...school?" Jon blurts out. Yeah, he has no clue how any of that works.

He is about to reach out to attempt to pet the robot cat when he stands up without warning, looking out toward the street. "I've got to go," he says suddenly. "I'm sorry." And in a flash, he's simply gone, and the resultant gust of wind kicks up whatever isn't nailed down.

And thus he leaves Nettie to explain to Belinda how Jon can just vanish like that...

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "He's the Flash." NEttie states regarding the nerdy Jon's sudden exit.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda doesn't quite squeal in laughter at the tale, eyes dancing as she offers a quick nod. Only occasionally stealing a glance at Jon's hand (yep, healed!), she returns to the story with a warm joy. "And he shall never replace you, wonderful sir," she murmurs to Corvax, reaching over to brush gentle fingers across his brow. She bites back a giggle at the lack of tea kettle betraying the tank type, shaking her head as she marvels.

"The captain should surely have known better," she remarks, teasing the memory. "It was France, after all!" She blinks in surprise at Jon's sudden apology, turning to offer a quick wave--

--To thin air. Vanished like the wind!

"...Dios," she whispers, eyes wide. "He is very quick!"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Oh no, poppet, I was still very drunk." NEttie remarks with a small smile, and gives an embarrassed chuckle of a sound.

    The robotic cat looks rather confused with the sudden disappearance of Jon, and then turns to focus on Belinda, walking over, looking her in the eyes... and then flopping over onto her side with a THUNK.

    "Meow."

    "She's a good cat, but definitely no replacement for Corvax. I mean, c'mon, we've been together for a hundred and seventy years, Corvax."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda giggles laughter, smiling as she scritches the crow (bird) for a moment longer, then reache sfor the metallicat, brushing her fingers across in curious exploration.

"I have been reading some of the books you mentioned," she begins, casting a glance over at the shelves. Mostly for the New Agers and faux-Wiccans and all the rest-- but a few key gems, real knowledge lingering in among the dross. "And if I am understanding properly, the worth of a reagent's mystical. Spiritual? It's properties--" She waggles her free hand, fingers wiggling vaguely on the air. "These things, in part, come from the way it grows. It's environment."

She frowns, wrinkling her brow. "I think. So, something like basil or birch bark or catnip or such-- they are better gathered from the wild rather than, per se, a garden or growing pots on a back porch rail?" The frown deepens, a sigh rising from her voice as she leans on one arm. "I am not sure I understood it, to be truthful."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Depends. If I elect to grow say... strawberries. And I go out and I sing to the strawberry plants. I make sure they have water. I use eggshells from eggs that I've cracked for breaky..." NEttie begins as she sits back down on her stool behind the counter. "I ward them with cinnamon and hot pepper to keep bugs away and string shiny discs to scare away the birds. I check on them in the morning and say good night to them, and then when they are the ripest I pick them, and thank the plant for them, they have had more energy invested in them as a reagent than say, strawberries found in the wild, yeah?" she gives an amused grin, and breaks a chocolate chip cookie in half.

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda drinks from her soda, lips quirking before she sets the Coke back down. Gentle sipping! "So, good gardening in all case," she states matter-of-factly, twisting over to start rummaging through the box of groceries. "As any proper and good farmer should do." She pauses for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

"Plants respond to good attention," she considers, "Whether the farming technique is a hydroponic system, the plants were themselves grown in a cultivated garden, or found in the wild. The care we give them does more to make them grow and proper than leaving them alone would be."

She pulls out onions, red peppers, some seasonings, a plastic bag full of tomatoes. "For salsa," she explains without preamble, casting a wink towards Nettie. "Because I had been told we had a guest who thought good salsa should come from a /JAR/."

Sacriledge!

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "... probably pass produced in *New York City*." the witch agrees with a small, knowing nod.

    "Honestly, the best salsa I've had was in a little place in Las Vegas. TUrns out that it wasn't actually normal pork in the salsa, though." Nettie replies thoughtfully, and then she gives a nod.

    "A lot of times it depends on where something is growing, too. For instance, I know of someone who managed to sneak into a monastary to get blessed basil growing in the shadow of a statue that contained the solidified amber tears of a dying saint. And then accidentally used it on pizza."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
The young lady winces at that story, grimacing as she shakes her head sadly. "So much time growing it, wasted," she bemoans with sorrow, sighing quietly. She sets the ingrediants to one side, checking back in the box before she nods with solemn satisfaction. "I hoped to gather some iof the better things for Mr. Redd," she explains, "A proper welcome of sorts. I understand he likes to smoke cigars, but has been very careful for certain sensitive noses." She smile s faintly, a blush tingling on her features. "For which, I am, at least, grateful. Some cigars are muy *awful*!" She mock-shudders, grinning cheerfully. "Though there are some too that are actually quite nice, in doses. I cannot look for them properly myself." She sighs, wistful. "So! Cornbread, salsa, sopapillas if we can get the ice cream on the right day. Chips will have to be regular ones; I hope Mr. Redd shall not mind."

She pauses, biting her lip with a giggle. "Did he *really* install a television up there?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "He did. To my chagrin because if he would have asked, I would have ordered one." Nettie states, "but Miss Kinney gave the OK. One of the sacrifices I make to make sure my duckies have a place to call Safe, I suppose." Nettie gives a faux sigh, and she gives a smile to Belinda.

    "Speaking of -- how are you enjoying *your* time in the Justice League Dark, Belinda?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda quivers, an absolute grin brightening her features like a star. "It has been painful," she admits, "But exhilirating! Wild and strange and weird and wonderful too. And though I cannot speak truth to mi familia at home about the things I do sometimes...." She smiles, exhaling with quiet joy. "I can go, and do. Help people in terrible times, in terrible ways, from terrible things. See things I never did dream of or imagine!" She bows her head, shivering with warm delight. "In the Dark, I do not have to hide who I am, for fear of frightening others. As much." She laughs quietly, rising back up with a grin.

"It is opportunity that I could not imagine even a year ago." She covers her mouth, laughing softly. "Though I am still disappointed that the Howling Commando and Captain America were not 'Awoo!' too. Such is life!"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Aye, such is life." Nettie confirms quietly, and she gives a smile.

    "I'm glad you are enjoying yourself here, Belinda. I truly am. It's nice, after all this time to have something of a family again. You lot have done wonders for this old woman." she gives a small smile. And then she gives a soft 'hrm' sound.

    "We do have some of the most interesting people in our little group, don't we?"

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
"We do," Belinda agrees, smile warm as she closes the top to the box, setting it aside as she gazes up dreamily. "I imagine it will not always be that way; people come and go, whether we enjoys such things or no." She chuffs a chuckle, voice quiet as she gazes to the rafters. Her thoughts carry her; her gaze lingers on the wood above, wandering among the old oak and sworls in the panels.

"Abuela," she asks quietly, "I have thought about the things we face, we face. Some of them are great and terrible. In the past, for some dangers, I have been able to be frightening, to evoke terrible fears in others. Not like Batman, no, but--!"

She grimaces, leaning down on her hands. "Well, I might have threatened to eat someone's fingers, once. And on the mountains, to rescue Shining One-- I broke bones." She half-frowns, thoughtful. "Should I learn more combat things? How to fight, how to..." Her lip quivers, and she casts a glance aside in mirth. "--be more frosty?"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "... to be... frosty?" Nettie questions, and she gives a small 'huh.' sound.

    "... actually that's a good idea. Some martial arts training isn't out of the question. Might be useful, in fact." she tilts her head back, and then narrows her eyes "I know Patience does martial arts. None of the Ghost Riders do. They're mostly..." she purses her lips.

    "Well. Shoot. Now that's a good idea."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda nods quickly, folding her hands together. Plowing ahead with fervor!

"I have been using zipties and... wrestling holds." One. *One* hold. From late night television! Shame-- never lived down.

"But if we do encounter something terrible..." She bites her lip, frown dispelled. Determined! "I do not want to kill if one can avoid it," she explains carefully, sighing slowly. "I know that-- if we must someday, then... But if can stop dreadful people without such harm. Can become stronger, more capable, more--"

She waggles her hand, searching for the words. "I wish for more choices when facing foes," she explains. "If all I can choose between are 'be scary' and 'kill without hesitation'..." She snorts, shaking her head. "I want to be better. Have much to learn. Can do proud, in all ways!"

She grins, glancing sheepishly. "I am totally not explaining myself well. Apologies, Abuela!"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Poppet, I hope you never have to make the choice." Nettie states gently. "I'm already so proud of you, and how far you've come since I very well kidnapped you to fight a demon goose." she gives a wry smile. "Fear is a powerful weapon; ask The Batman." she smiles, and then relaxes. "But mostly I'm so proud of you because you have faced some challenging foes, and some not so challenging foes. You've stoodup for those who could not stand up for themselves already. You are a /hard/ worker, and a good student. And I am proud that I earned your respect and affection enough that you call me Abuela, mi mocita."

Belinda Gutierrez has posed:
Belinda practically swells with joy, pride; she sniffles faintly, briefly, nodding firmly as she breathes out a sharp exhale in joy. The temptation is clear as day-- to lean over and hug again, with fierce abandon! But she reaches over instead, clasping hands with a firm, reverent squeeze.

"It is very much overdue," she answers, eyes vibrant. "And very much earned, too! I cannot solve all the world's ills, but can at least try, and perhaps solve some here, local, nearby."

She giggles laughter, groaning with a grimace. "And I still do not, cannot, impossibly not know-- how did I row a boat that night? It is inconcievable!" She releases Nettie's hand, laughing with joy as she leans back. "Dios, I stil do not know how to swim! One mor ething to learn. One more!" She grins, eyes sparkling as she forces wild joys into firmer control.

"I have been to space. I have met Wonder Woman. Superman. El Flash!" She shivers, hugging herself tight. "I am only seventeen. I can only be patient for tomorrow, and what it brings!"