5646/This Scene is Untitled

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This Scene is Untitled
Date of Scene: 19 March 2021
Location: The Dugout - The Narrows
Synopsis: Carrie takes Gwen home. To sleep it off.
Cast of Characters: Gwendolyn Poole, Carrie Kelley

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
Johnny "Ratman" Gatto. He's good at selling drugs to kids and single-handedly ruining entire neighborhoods, but the man can't really be known for coming up with a cool handle. Either way, his actions have pissed off the Voodoo Boyz, another gang in the perilous city of Gotham. Wanting to make sure the slippery snake of a Gatto is handled well, they've reached out for an independent contractor. Somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody decided to hire a merc known for being cute, tiny, and mentally unstable.

Enter Gwendolyn Poole.

She sits at the bar, staring down into her beer as she considers her life decisions that have brought her to this time and place. Skinny jeans, uggs, and a pinky hoody over a MAGNETO WAS RIGHT shirt make up the girl's outfit, and conceal a few knives and a gun. She doesn't fit in, but a few minutes ago she broke Ricky Smitts wrist, so people are giving the girl a bit of space.

Undercover is SO boring. She sighs and glances over at the bartender. "Hey. You. So, uh...I'm looking to score. When was the last time you saw Ratman?"

Noncomittal answer, which is making the girl think more and more that tonight won't be ending in extreme, R-Rated violence, bordering on 'Banned from most theaters' quality content. She sighs and picks up the beer, taking a long sip. Pinky out.

Carrie Kelley has posed:
The door to the Dugout slams open, and standing in it is a singular figure. She's a bit taller than average for a woman, and it seems she's not dressed for a night out on the town. Leather jacket, cargo pants, a utility belt, and a pair of sneakers. She looks over the room, spotting the man nursing his broken wrist, and then the woman at the bar drinking a beer, and the few other assorted malcontents, and then says simply, "Johnny Gatto. Where is he?" of the room at large.

She's not wearing what she usually does, and any of the people who might seem to recognize her, take a second look at the figure who strides into the room, glaring daggers at whomever might be giving her some side-eye. She saunters to the bar, motions the bartender over, and then grabs him by the front of the shirt to pull him close to her, as she growls, "Where, is Johnny Gatto?" Maybe she's doing her best Batman impersonation? Or, maybe she's just gotten some news and she's unhappy about it. She does not seem the very stable type right at the moment.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
The name makes Gwen's ears perk, and she glances towards the door. Baby blue eyes dip over her curiously before she sips her beer again. Hmmm.

The bartender is yanked in, and he cries out a bit, surprised. "He's dead!," he finally cries out. "He crossed the O'Mally's when he tried to sell in the Cauldron and they dropped him into some building foundation and parked a Jamba Juice on 'em!" A man down the bar nods his head in agreement, and Gwen sighs. "Well, shit," the teen grumps. She certainly isn't old enough to drink, but nobody is stopping her.

"Cauldron. Mmmn. I remember the Cauldron storyline. Decent stuff. Crappy part of Gotham run by the Irish Mob." She mutters this under her breath and tucks some blonde and pink behind her ear. She glances between the bartender and Carrie, and then flashes a lopsided grin.

"Well, seems our nights are both free now. Buy you a drink?"

Carrie Kelley has posed:
"Dead? Dropped a Jamba Juice on him? I ain't been gone THAT long, have I?" Carrie asks, before she does some calculations and...nope she has been gone that long between a couple of different life adventures. "Son of a..." she growls and pushes the man away. It's then that she hears Gwen speaking to her. The woman stops, and then turns slowly towards the be-hoodied teen nearby. She tilts her head a bit and asks, "Aren't you a bit young to be in here?" Not that she's gonna stop the girl from drinking.

She shrugs slowly, "I could use a drink, wash down the memory of this stupid asshole who got my friend hooked on whatever garbage he was selling." She slides into the chair next to Gwen, and looks her over, openly, before she turns to the bartender and says, "Vodka cranberry," no please. She's still not in the mood for all the niceties.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"I'm older then I look," she lies, and then shrugs. She grins when Carrie slides in next to her, and she takes another sip of her own beer. "And, just to pay homage to Ratman, two Irish Carbombs."

The bartender grunts and turns away to make the drinks as Gwen turns her attention to Carrie. "Well, I was here to find that guy, too. Somebody paid me to mess him up." Paid -her-? Right. "I'm Gwen," the girl offers.

Carrie Kelley has posed:
Carrie Kelley considers Gwen for a long moment, and then glances around the room. There are some real low lifes in here, who are just /dying/ to get her name, "Jill," she says finally, letting her eyes settle for the most part on the other woman, though, she does look around occasionally to make sure nobody's about to put a knife in her. Or worse.

"How much were they paying to mess him up? I was gonna do that but drop him at the Gotham PD free of charge." she asks, and then adds, "And, you're a merc too?" The too part might seem somewhat out of place, considering what she just described to the girl about her plans concerning Ratman.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"Eh, ten grand, since they wanted me to make an example. It wasn't going to be pretty." She flashes a grin and then drains her beer as Carrie's drink arrives...along with the Irish Carbombs. She pushes the shot and drink to the girl and grabs her own, prepped to drop the shot into the beer. "Okay! You too. A toast?"

Carrie Kelley has posed:
Carrie Kelley picks up the shot with a bit of a frown. Apparently this is not her usual drink of choice, but, it's free so...gotta go through with it, "To dead assholes," she says, before dropping her drink into the glass, and then chugging the concoction down. She swallows quickly, and then sputters for a few moments, coughing, and grabbing for her much sweeter drink she ordered. It probably wasn't spit in. She drinks some of it to get rid of the aftertaste, and then takes a moment to recover, before she sits up properly at the bar.

"I see. Well. I'd prefer him in jail as opposed to under a Jamba Juice, but...that's Gotham." Her voice carries a very Gotham accent. "Don't think I've seen you around these parts before Gwen, take it you're not some home grown talent?" she asks.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
She downs it as well before setting the glass down. She wipes her chin and laughs, her cheeks a bit red. She's 5'4" and has the alcohol tolerance ytou'd expect. She doesn't seem to mind, though. "I'd prefer him in pieces, cause I'd have gotten paid." Her accent is Californian, but not 'beach babe' or anything like that. Just standard Californian. "Nah, I usually hang out in New York...but I'm getting more mobile, I guess. Wherever there's excitement, I guess. If I mess around here too much I have a feeling Batman is gonna get piiiiiissed. My kinda work tends to raise his bat-hackles, I bet."

Carrie Kelley has posed:
"Do you want the official line, or the not official line?" Carrie asks with a bit of a smirk. "If you don't kill anyone, you're probably fine, though, Batman would prefer if you not hone in on his whole vigilante thing. He's got...a bit of a racket going." She then takes another sip of her drink, and shrugs, "Just don't be blowing up stuff, or hurting innocents, or doing crimes. You'll be mostly ok. Or, yeah, just don't hang around for a bit and you'll also be fine because they're too busy with whoever this week to pay mind to a wandering merc."

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"Weeeeell...," she starts and trails off. "I'm also not a vigilante. I mean, I've tried going the whole hero route and...it's hard! So much easier just to get money to do it. Heroism isn't putting chili dogs in my tummy, and a girl hasta eat." She winks and leans on the bar, turning to regard Carrie. She's toasted, and seems to be doing just fine. "I do a lot of that stuff, honestly. Well, I -try- not to let innocents get in the way, so I'm doing better then when I started...."

Carrie Kelley has posed:
"I did the hero thing. I think you're right. It's easier to just make money and try to keep the innocent out of harms way if possible." She shrugs just a little bit, and then looks at the clearly well tipsy Gwen, "You..uh..doing ok? Should we go somewhere? Get you laid down?" she asks, seeming perhaps a little concerned for the girl. She's had a drink and a half and is ok so far.

Gwendolyn Poole has posed:
"Are you coming onto me?," she asks with an arched eyebrow and teasing grin. "And yeah, I'd love to get out of her. Kinda stinks in here." She isn't fall down drunk, so she steps away from the bar. She leans against Carrie a bit, likely just as an excuse. "Where to? I don't have anywhere in Gotham. I was planning to do the job and drive home.."

Carrie Kelley has posed:
"I got a place. Or two. Though I think I have to blindfold you to get you in..." Carrie replies, as her arm goes around the girl as she leans on her. She looks down, perhaps enjoying the view just a bit, and then says, "I'm not NOT coming on to you," and guides her towards the exit.