17670/Drinks between friends

Drinks between friends
Date of Scene:	16 April 2024
Location:	Harry's Hideaway (Bar)
Synopsis:	Oro and Logan get together for drinks and talk about their woes.
Cast of Characters:	Ororo Munroe, Logan Howlett

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Ororo Munroe has posed:
It is not every day that divinity descends from on high to grace mortal kind with glory and warmth and a spark of the divine. And it's not every /week/ that a Goddess attends a small but cozy bar. In the time Ororo has been busy with all the various duties and responsibilities of her divinity (Or more realistically, been splitting her time between aiding those in need of her talents and spending the rest of her time lazing around in her loft), she has let her hair grow out long enough to have spent most of her morning post-shower carefully braiding it into an ornate pleat that hangs down near to her hips, partly obscuring the golden lightning bolt emblazoned on the back of her snugly fitted leather racing jacket.

And, as is only appropriate for a mid-morning bar adventure, her legs are kicked up, short heeled ankle boots hooked on the edge of the chair across her table, long legs clad in clinging dark denim as she idly taps and swipes with her thumb on her phone, other hand occasionally snapping out to pluck up a nacho, alternating between those laden with toppings and those with almost none.

And once more her blue eyes flick back to her phone, glancing at the time as she murmurs under her breath. "I should have simply told Kurt to bring him. Kidnapping a friend is entirely justifiable at times." Especially, Ororo thinks to herself, when that kidnapping is to reconnect, and stop both that friend /and/ herself from spending too much time aloof from others.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan isn't a very easy man to kidnap and, sometimes, an even harder one to find. He doesn't stay at the Grounds anymore, but spends most of his time in Alaska these days. Living out the rustic life in a cabin he built himself, in ages passed. The recent past, however, has seen him in country a lot more... specifically following the events of the UN Attack. Even more specifically, his fight with that assassin.

Putting his nose to the grind, he's been tracking the son of a bitch. Something about him was entirely too familiar, but he can't place from where.. or why. This would be status quo for the forgetful mutant savage, if it weren't for intricacies that he's not entirely comfortable getting into.

So when he arrives at Harry's little Hideaway, it's in an old orange/white panelled pickup truck that might look rusted, but purrs like a kitten. Upon stepping in, on worn in leather boots, he's wearing snug wrangler jeans in a bootcut, a bit leather belt, with a white sleeveless shirt under an unbuttoned red and black flannel. As always is his wicker style cowboy hat with the frayed brim. His hair has also grown out, dark, only the slightest hints of gray at his temples and in his beard.

A grin for Ororo, around a cigar he's thoroughly chewed, when he sees the goddess with her feet kicked up. Making his way over after stopping long enough at the bar to get a pitcher of beer and a couple shots delivered to their table. One hand removes his hat and tosses it on the table, the other combs back through his hair, "How ya doin' gorgeous?"

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Ororo's eyes light up... perhaps not in the usual literal 'lightning licking at her eyelids as storm clouds gather and winds rage' way. But in that mirthful, joyous, 'Oh, my dear and darling gruff friend has arrived' way. A way that heralds full lips curving in a slow, wide smile as her eyebrows perk and her head tilts, and she leans back in her seat, right leg stretching, heel giving her footrest seat a little shove back to make room for the berserker. "Well well, if it is not my most favorite and absent friend."

She smiles warmly and sighs out, "I am... well? Well enough. If haunted by the specter of thinking I have not been doing enough. Not fulfilling my potential." Her eyes roll as she sighs out, "Which, I am /also/ well aware is foolish pride on my part, thinking I must live up to my title of Goddess despite being mortal." She reaches out to snatch up another nacho, eyes drifting over as beverages approach.

"But I suppose all in all I'm doing quite well. The mansion has been relatively quiet... well, relatively /uneventful/ at the least."

Eyebrows perk and she grins impishly, "And how is the Alaskan cabin life? Have you made friends with all the woodland creatures? I admit, I'm shocked you are back in town, the rural life sounds peaceful, and something you deserve."

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan drops down in a seat directly across from Ororo and props his right foot up in the chair beside her, leaning back until it rises up on two legs with the support of his heel. As she gets into the shortcomings of human life under the garments of a goddess, his grin becomes a smirk. Head canting, brow perking in a little 'you'll have that' motion that is uniquely Logan-ish. "Sounds like you're on a souljourn yourself." Just in time for the beers and shots to arrive. He reaches out for one of the former and tips it up for a drink, then settles it against the inside of his raised leg.

"Eh... Mansion is always less eventful between shit blowin' it the fuck up. Otherwise why would we keep bringin' kids to that place?" Never mind that some aliens recently attacked it, that's just a Tuesday for the Xavier's kids.

Hand up, small shrug, and another pull off his beer.

"Not especially. Made them lunch." A joke, if dark. But his grin fades as he gets into it, "Ran into someone I know.. or I think I do. 'Sept I don't know from where, or why." A short nail clinks against the neck of the beer against his leg.

"Gotta find'em. Figure some shit out.. prolly cut his fuckin' head off in the process, but..." His head bobs side to side, glancing down. "We'll see." Never really was very talkative. "Hydra." Further explaination. "Asshole skewered me at that UN thing earlier this month."

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Ororo bites her lower lip in a vain attempt to fight that smile growing to a grin as she rolls her eyes, "Oh, no more than usual, dear friend. I am always on an exploration of myself and my place in the world. You know me, always thinking I could do more, be more." Not that this self-awareness /stops/ her from doing those things.

That joke about lunch earns a soft little noise from the weather goddess, somewhere just short of a full-on laugh, and her eyes narrow slightly, just to indicate she definitely got that crack. And then she's nodding solemnly, lips pressing in a serious line. It's not the first time Logan's known someone without knowing he knows them. Or that it's been the sort of relationship that involves that person being targeted for being the subject of what it is Wolverine is best at.

She sighs out softly and nods slowly, her eyebrows perking high as she murmurs dryly, "That does seem to happen to you an unfortunate amount. I promise, no matter how many of these reunions we have, I will endeavor to do my best to make sure none of them involve me skewering you. Or even shocking you." She pauses for a moment. "In the sense of striking you with lightning, dear friend."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Ain't a whole lot you could do that'd surprise me, Oro." Logan says with a clipped, almost snorting, laugh. It's not insulting, just that... well he's a hard man to impress, certainly harder to surprise. Not many people are old enough to call the parents of Boomers, youngin's, these days. Certainly fewer of those have the mental faculties to know what any of those words even mean.

Another sip of his beer, free hand rubbing along the subble above his grown out beard. "Yeah, it does." Happen to him a lot, nodding along with the Weather Goddess. "Startin' to become a pain in my ass.. Was neat for a few decades-" It wasn't, he's clearly joking, "-now.. well..." Another long pull and he sets the empty bottle down on the table. "I gotta piss."

He pushes himself up, draining one of the shots on the way. "Get us some more shots while I'm in the head, huh?" A smirk, a hand on her shoulder, and he's headed towards the back to take care of natures calling. Possibly the most clever way to say someone will be AFK for a bit.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
There's a soft little laugh from Ororo as she narrows her eyes and murmurs dryly, "Well, I will keep that in mind, my friend. I am not nearly so inventive at coming up with surprises as Rogue, so yes, I imagine I could /not/ surprise you easily." and then she's leaning forward to pour her own beer and take a slow, measured sip as she sighs out.

And then Logan's heading off to the bathroom and Ororo's flagging down the bartender... for four shots. Why just one each, after all? But even when relaxing with her friend, she's responsible.

Don't fly and/or weather-control drunk, kids. Ororo Sez.

And while Logan's gone, Ororo's eyes flick about the bar, perhaps not quite so brazenly alert and focused on potential threats as Logan himself would be, or even Betsy. But still. Teacher, Goddess, paramilitary soldier. Ororo is all of these things.

Logan Howlett has posed:
Logan doesn't take nearly as long as the AFK did.

Do the bitniz he went to the water closet for...

Shake shake shake.

    Wash his hands because hygene

Return and slide back into his vacated seat, already reaching out to pour himself a replacement beer. "So. What're you worried ya aint doin' enough of, anyhow?" Beer poured, pitcher down, shot is picked up and hammered back with a little hiss of breath through his teeth.

With his foot hooking on the chair it had been sitting in previously and his hand absently wrapping the beer mug to periodically bring it over for a drink. "Don't you got a whole continent that looks at you like a Goddess? Can't imagine they jus' hand that title out on a whim to lay abouts."

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Ororo laughs out, a soft noise tinged with bitterness as she thorws her first shot back, eyes closing, squeezing tight, breath catching.

Her glass is slammed down and her voice hisses out, hoarse and raw. "Hfff... that's rather the crux of it, isn't it? I am a Goddess to the people, and yet I cannot solve all their problems. I cannot be everywhere and protect everyone."

Blue eyes open and her lips crook in a lopsided, sorrowful little smile. "And yet, if I cannot do that, then how can I call myself Goddess? Yet how can I refuse to try and earn that title in earnest, hm?"

She snickers softly and murmurs dryly, "And besides, my dear Logan... even if I /were/ an abject layabout... I am a layabout who can still hurl lightning and ice, and focus the fury of nature herself. You can in fact be a god or goddess and not necessarily be worthy of the title while still holding it."

That second shot is lifted and fired down the hatch and Ororo groans out softly, "Maybe I just need to get out more. I've tried to support the students, and our friends, but... I think maybe I just need to get down to the city again. Live my life instead of... fulfilling my title?" She sighs and rolls her eyes, "Perhaps /I/ should try living in an Alaskan cabin for awhile."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"Eh... I think you're confusing Gods and Goddesses with 'productive people'." Logan tilts his mug towards Ororo just far enough that the beer inside sloshes, but never spills over, the side. Then he brings it up for a drink, "It's been my, extensive, experience with Gods that the vast majority of them are lazy as shit.. Even the big religious ones. They aren't solvin' a damn thing, not problem one." Another drink, hand drawn across his mouth to clean some of the foam from his fuzzy lip.

"Whereas you're actually doin' shit. Helpin'.. Hell, you may be more worthy of the title than the vast majority of them that have it." A shrug, lounging back in his seat rocked up on two legs. "Maybe ya should. It's nice.. livin' off what ya gather, nobody to bother you for miles. An' if you believe politicians, close enough to Russia you can see it from your porch." There's a smirk, more of that dry Logan humor.

"If people aint want you to be their Goddess, I'm sure they'd let ya know."

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Ororo laughs softly and smiles ruefully, "Yes, I suppose it is a fault to being both woman and Goddess. I feel the woman must be the best she can be, and the Goddess as well... and that both should be the best /at/ both simultaneously." She sighs and clicks her tongue softly. "Perhaps I should reacquaint myself with Greek mythology and remind myself that sometimes to be a benevolent deity is to simply not... use my powers in inappropriate and flagrantly predatory manners."

Ororo tilts her head to the side and she grins broadly. "And can you now? Well. I will visit then. Ensure you have an appropriately laid out and functioning vegetable garden so you are not risking protein poisoning from /only/ eating meat." She hums softly and murmurs out. "I could see Russia from your front step, I am sure. My eyesight is /most/ spectacular."

Logan Howlett has posed:
"There's your problem." Logan points across the table as if he's solved her connundrum, "Yer a woman an' want everything." This he doesn't deliver as dryly, point of fact, he almost starts laughing half way through. A deep sound follows, however, that is definitely a laugh. "Sorry." Hands up, then back around his beer to lift it for a long drink, setting the mug back down empty.

"You'll figure it out, Oro. I think it'll start with not worryin' about it so much, but... that's my whole approach to everything. I don't remember shit, imagine if I worried about that constantly?" A sharp suck of air through his teeth, formed off in a grin.

"I'll hold you to that. I'm pretty sure I got most of the pieces to Trivial Pursuit too.. I call it the 'entertainment center'." Absently lifting and tossing his hat back down as he leans back in the chair. Eyes starting to grow a little narrow as his thoughts go back to what brought him AWAYS from Alaska.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Ororo leans forward in rapt attention as Logan proclaims he knows her problem. Dark fingers lace together, hands forming a triangle in front of her face as she coils forward slowly, tensing with anticipation for...

Her mouth falls open. Her eyes widen. Somewhere five miles to the southwest, a tree is nearly stripped of newly grown leaves when a gust of wind rises up with sudden force as the goddess does her best to focus her sudden laughter anywhere but her face so that the thin, firmly pressed line of her lips in severe disapproval is more believable.

She sighs out and snickers softly, "You have /most/ of the pieces? To Trivial Pursuit? ...Oh goddess. It's because you have the original Canadian printing, isn't it?"

And then she's lifting up out of her seat to reach over and let a hand land upon Logan's shoulder and squeeze. "And if you need help with this mysterious assassin, please, do not hesitate to call me. ...Via phone. I am not Goddess enough to hear prayers. Well, not without asking Jean for assistance."

Logan Howlett has posed:
It's worth it just to see the look on her face.

Logan looks positively smug about it, honestly.

Though he does grow increasingly more serious when she shifts over to lay a hand on his shoulder. A slight nod. "Hes part of Hydra. I reckon it'll be a lot easier with help." There's still shots, so he grabs one and slams it back. Not like he's going to be getting drunk anytime soon, right? The cigar, the one he'd come in with, lays on the corner of an ashtray, but he grabs it and puts it back between his teeth.

Chewing until it nestles in the corner of his mouth.

"Lemme know if I can help ya with your goddess problem."

He's full of jokes today.

Grinning around the nub of dark chewed tobacco. "Ya know good'n well I don't know how to use a god damn phone... but maybe I can get Kitty to show me or somethin'." He has one, of course. An old flip phone, which he fixes out of his breast pocket of the flannel, and tosses up on the table top. Because it's made out of tough enough material to survive a direct .50 shot at close range.