16614/Tough Guys

Tough Guys
Date of Scene:	18 December 2023
Location:	Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls
Synopsis:	Noh-Varr and Midnighter cross paths again.
Cast of Characters:	Lucas Trent, Noh-Varr

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Lucas Trent has posed:
Midnighter wasn't exactly a mercenary. He joined the occasional wetwork team, but mostly as a favor and always for cause. He didn't take other people's money except in the literal sense. The people he went after were scum, the worst, the underlying cancer burrowing beneath the surface of the world and poisoning the blood of everyone. So he didn't feel bad reclaiming their resources for the cause. He usually only took what he needed and gave the rest away.

Still, mercs were as close to his kind of people as existed. He wasn't good at spending time with civilians. He'd been in the trenches too long. He couldn't pretend to be interested in normal things, normal people. He could sit still for three days straight, without moving an inch, on a stakeout, but he could barely sit still listening to people try to explain their mortgages to him.

No one here had a mortgage. Here it was cards, booze, fights and a bunch of people who wouldn't know how to be normal if they tried. Midnighter fit in well enough and, hey, he wasn't even competition. On the other hand, if the wrong person came in, there's every possibility Midnighter would kill them on the spot because he was a god damn maniac.

So he mostly sat by himself.

Noh-Varr has posed:
As for why Noh-Varr is here?

He's no mercenary either. He's a soldier engineered by a fascist regime to further their goals of intergalactic domination in order to bring peace... by force, if necessary. Much like the Midnighter, it is hard to find like-minded individuals and the people that frequent St. Margaret's are probably as close to his kind of people he will (hopefully) meet.

Plus, he figured he wouldn't stick out so badly. That someone he knows is here drinking? That's strictly a bonus. "I believe it's my turn to be sugar daddy, soldier." He says, slipping into the seat beside Lucas. He's wearing street clothes, his hair still silvery white, but he's added a dusting of stubble across jawline and cheekbones, and seems to be mirroring Lucas's posture.

Lucas Trent has posed:
Lucas Trent smelled the Kree as soon as he arrived, of course, his senses far too keen for his own tastes sometimes. In this case, though, something that almost resembled a smile touched the corner of Lucas' mouth. Almost. A twitch, maybe.

"Sugar, I'll allow. Daddy, you'd have to earn," he says as he takes a sip of his expensive hyperbooze. "Seems you've got friends in low places, just like me. Well. Maybe not friends,' he says. "I wouldn't waste the time stomping the scum around here just for the trouble of getting the mess off my boot," he says.

"Been keeping busy, pretty boy?"

Noh-Varr has posed:
Pretty boy?

Yes. Noh-Varr is *very* pretty, despite the scruff he's taken to wearing in imitation of the man beside him. And although he tries to play it off, Lucas being Lucas he can see the minute shift in posture, the way shoulders straighten and chest puffs slightly, and a smile threatens to tug on the corner of Noh-Varr's lips. "You'll find me an overachiever, Midnighter of Earth." He chuckles, leaning back in the stool and motioning to the bartender for a drink, and pointing to Lucas to indicate he has this round. "Analysis of police reports and ads on the dark web suggested this would be a good place to... ah..." His brow furrows, "'keep a low profile'?"

He raises one eyebrow at Lucas. "I've kept busy. Encounters with quantum singularities, angry Kryptonians, and the occasional bit of violence." He shrugs, "Nothing extraordinary." He eyes Lucas, and smirks, nudging the other man with an elbow. "I figured you for the type that prefers being the daddy."

Lucas Trent has posed:
Lucas Trent snorts, "Yeah, pretty sure the cops are allergic to this neighborhood. Because they get sick after they get fucking shot," he says. "There's always gonna be a pocket, an ecosystem off the grid where the freaks and the scum are gonna thrive. Kinda on the fringe. Places like this. That's where I live. In the shadows," he says.

"Ugh, I sound like that douchebag Batman. It ain't that romantic. Mostly it's just a lot of bad plumbing and cheap food. And plenty of blood and guts. Where the wetwork happens."

He takes another swig of his drink and watches the other man's body language. He can read it well, his combat engine giving him the ability to analyze and interpret the way bodies move and prepare and work. He can see the play of every muscle in Noh-Varr's body at a glance.

"You ain't the humble type, but I bet it's more extraordinary than ya think. I've seen you work. Nobody else in this place would stand a chance against you. Other than me, of course," he says. To the daddy comment, he shrugs, "I'm a middle aged guy with plenty of body hair. I ain't gonna pass for a twink. Daddy suits me just fine."

Noh-Varr has posed:
"Strange concept, romance." Noh-varr shakes his head, his body language relaxed and almost contemptuously unguarded as he talks to Lucas. He is clearly confident in himself and his ability to defend himself, but not reading as cocky. "Almost as strange as the idea of 'outcast' or 'monogomy'."

He nods acceptance of Lucas's assessment, his green eyes cool as he looks the other man over, assessing, considering. "I wager it would be 50/50." He finally says, "I've analyzed our previous encounter, and whatever augmentations you use are impressive. But..." He frowns again, as if trying to remember the correct phrase. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve." He grins, and when the drinks are delivered lifts his in toast to Lucas. "To daddies." He suggests, and adds after taking a drink. "I believe I would qualify as a jock, in your culture's sexual zoology."

Lucas Trent has posed:
Lucas Trent shrugs slightly, "Romance? I ain't had much o' that I can think of. Just one. And that one's none of your business," he says. Apollo was...he didn't know where Apollo was. And thinking about it wasn't going to make it any better. If he has a regret, it's that. Well, and some of the things he said.

Enough. Forget it.

His mind responds to his command and the momentary shadow cast on his features is pushed aside. He returns the salute with a slight grin, "Good to know you've been learning the important parts of Earth society. Maybe we'll hit a bathhouse sometime, get you to learn all the deep lore," he says.

Noh-Varr has posed:
Noh-Varr grimaces a little at the momentary cloud that obscures the gimp version of Batman, although he doesn't let the sympathy show. He doubts Lucas would appreciate it. So instead of commenting on it, he jostles the other man with a grin when he suggests a bathhouse.

"If you want to see me naked, you can try asking." He teases, with a chuckle, "I believe the tradition among your people is a drink first, and you've satisfied that." He smirks, and then eyes his drink, and the place around them. "But I dare say going to a bathhouse would be throwing blood in the water. For both of us."

Lucas Trent has posed:
He would not appreciate it. Talking about feelings is about the only thing that would make Midnighter run away. Most people didn't think he had them. He did. But he didn't fucking talk about them.

"I'm working up to asking. Or finding out if you're the kind of guy who doesn't want to be asked and wants to do the askin'. I figured my eyes checkin' out your ass back in that dark alley last week would've been enough for you to catch on," he says. "But maybe I underestimated you," he teases.

Noh-Varr has posed:
Someone once said emotions are for ugly people anyways.

"Of course you were checking my ass out. It's majestic." Noh-Varr shrugs one shoulder as if to dismiss the idea that someone looking at him is a sign of anything other than what is right and proper in the world. Not that he's *arrogant* mind you, just well aware.

"Ah, I'm afraid I'm not much on that 'romance' you mentioned earlier." The alien admits, wryly, and then glances over Lucas. "Anymore than I am labels. I believe your people call it pansexuality?" He dismisses that with a flick of his wrist, taking a drink, "If that's what you're asking. Or..." He raises one eyebrow, and *really* looks Lucas over, top to bottom, lingering on the jawline, the muscular chest... and other places. "Or are you asking if I'm attracted? Because I am."

He calmly takes a drink of his alcohol. "Although there are complications, of course."

Lucas Trent has posed:
Lucas Trent snorts, "All that stuff works itself out. You get naked, you start gettin' down, you figure out how to dance. I don't need labels. Ain't nothin' you like gonna be new to me. Alien or not," he says. Noh-Varr wouldn't be his first alien, although he would be the first Kree. Probably? Well, maybe he just -said- his name was Mar-Vell.

"Yeah. Seeing if the feeling's mutual. I ain't ever everybody, as they say," he says. "So tell me the complications. You got a dick on your foot or somethin'? Cause I ain't suckin' your foot dick."

Noh-Varr has posed:
There are Kree and then there are *Kree*, Lucas! Besides, everyone knows Mar-Vell was a pass-around party bottom.

When he's asked if he has a dick-foot, Noh-Varr blinks, and looks down at his own crotch before back up to Lucas, frowning. "Don't be ridiculous." He tells the older man with a shake of his head. "No, I have nanites in my blood and bodily fluids. My.. ah.. research shows it can cause an addictive euphoria in people with incompatible genetic codes, such as those with binary helix DNA." Because that is so much less bizarre than drugging with saliva and... er.. other things.

He eyes Lucas, and smirks. "I imagine unless your... enhancements... are particularly thorough, we'll be fine in that regard, though." And he deadpans, "Even then, I am very creative."

Lucas Trent has posed:
Lucas Trent grins, "I'll put my nanites up against your nanites any day. Ain't nothin' gets in my system that they don't let in and I doubt any o' your supercooties got what it takes. Anyway, addictive euphoria I can handle. I was alive in the 1970s," he says.

"Truth is, all of it ain't nothin' but theory until we pay the tab and head around the corner to the cheap motel where I got a room. Figured I'd end up layin' in it watchin' Andy Griffith tonight, but we can break the bed if you wanna."

Noh-Varr has posed:
The offer is considered seriously, as Noh-Varr finishes his drink. "I liked the music from the 1970's, mostly." He says absently, green eyes considering Lucas with a solemn expression completely out of proportion to the raunchy offer.

But he then shrugs, with a grin. "I was going to offer to take you to my space ship in New Jersey, but if you are offering to... 'host'... I can work with that. Far be it for me to deny 'romance'."

Because a crummy cheap motel is the height of romance? Probably for Lucas, it is.

Lucas Trent has posed:
Lucas Trent laughs, "Hey, you wanna do the space ship, the space ship sounds good to me. Probably be more hygienic. Not that I have to worry much about that sort of thing. But the smell would be better, I'd wager," he says.

"Lead on then, pretty boy," he says, reaching down and frankly giving Noh-varr and encouraging swat in the caboose.