8131/Just when you think you're out...

From Heroes Assemble MUSH
Revision as of 04:28, 6 October 2021 by PoeWolf (talk | contribs) (Even on Tuesday the threat of Thursday looms near)
(diff) ← Older revision | Latest revision (diff) | Newer revision → (diff)
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Just when you think you're out...
Date of Scene: 05 October 2021
Location: The Wick
Synopsis: Even on Tuesday the threat of Thursday looms near
Cast of Characters: Michael Hannigan, Helmut Zemo




Michael Hannigan has posed:
Unlike the last time Mike was here, it is very easy to find a table at the Wick tonight. The musician has his pick of places to sit and yet, he's at the same table as last time. And sure enough he's enjoying the same order as last time. That delicious French Dip with a large glass of the ebony colored elixer that is called Guinness.

The sandwich is mostly eaten. The glass is half full. But the smile is strong as the ponytailed man is skimming over the contents of a small notepad with a pen at the ready.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
    Another chance encounter has a pair of boots clapping behind Mike, before a familiar voice chimes in. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" Helmut Zemo, Baron of Sokovia, stands there, a small smile on his face. Just so happens that he chose tonight for another chance to get his sandwich fix.

  Last time they met, Zemo had no idea if Mike even knew who he was. Admittedly that was something that the Baron had no idea anyone had been left that hadn't at least seen his picture. But, he was not the blood-hungry evil that most of the news outlets made him out to be. He was more than capable of being a perfect gentleman, and downright pleasant to be around. "Seems like we meet again, Mike. The French Dip was irresistible."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Hearing the husky voice, Mike glances up from the notepad. The smile was already present but being that it's not weakening is likely a good sign. "Oh hey, Helmut!" The musician greets, closing the notebook. The perils of his job is he tends to be shuffled around a lot to where he can go periods of time without actually catching a glimpse of the news. But in his social circle, Helmut is still a unique enough name to match to the face without trouble. Probably bad for Mike. But, good for Zemo. "Have a seat!"

He threads the pen through the spiral of the notepad before sliding it over to an unoccupied portion of the table. "I have also succummbed to the pull of the French Dip." He observes with a bit of a chuckle. "I see you've remembered the perils of coming here on Thursdays as well." Work set aside, his attention is set upon the newcomer, "How're things going for you?"

Helmut Zemo has posed:
    The seat is taken, and the glass of amber beer is moved to the table, a piping hot sandwich on the plate. "It goes well, thank you. I assume you are doing well, as well?" He asks, taking that mug of beer in his hand and taking a long sip. "Very nice, and the volume is not ear-wrenchingly loud now."

  Zemo looked to the notebook, and chuckled. "No taking notes on your phone? Let me guess. Poetry?" Long shot, but he knew that artistic people tended to put their passions to paper, instead of a screen. No one is making a spreadsheet in a notebook anymore, no, that time had long since past.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
Mike nods in the afirmative to how he's doing, "Oh yes. Last month was mostly off time." He picks up his glass, glancing over to the notebook when Zemo brings it up. "Oh- Not this time, just some prep work before things get busy again."

The glass tilts up, allowing for Mike to work on the remainder of the glass, almost obscuring his view as the server comes by to set another glass where the other used to be.

"Here you go." The server offers up as a semblance of a warning.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
    Zemo took his sandwich in his hand, before dipping it in the plentiful serving of au jus. The sopping sandwich bitten and chewed without comment.

  Helmut looked back up and to the musician. "Ahh I see. Though I was not far off the mark, it seems." He comments, fixing in on the 'not this time' part of what Mike mentioned.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"Thanks." Mike manages to eek out before the server sprints out of range. He lowers the now emptied glass slowly, glancing to the table to see where the replacement drink was set before putting the empty down. The new home ends up being over to the unused portion of table, but safely away from the small notepad. "Well, I might be playing a bit losely with the term by refering to anything I do as poetry." Mike admits, "I'm no Poe or Frost."

There's a quirk to his lips as he reaches over to the remants of his sandwich to pick it up

Helmut Zemo has posed:
    "And you think that you must be a Poe or Frost to be a poet?" Zemo says, raising his glass. "To beer: Your effervescence stimulates, your temperature soothes, and most of all: your alcohol makes me groove."

  "Prost." He says, lifting the glass once more before putting it to his lips. "Poetry can and has been about anything. As long as you're genuine."

  Another bite of his sandwich is taken, closing his eyes in the pleasure of flavor dancing on his tongue.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
A bit of a devious look flashes across Mike's features as Helmut comes up with poetry about beer. Yes. Poetry. Mike lifts up his glass in kind. Pausing as he glances to the side in thought, before giving a slight nod.

"To Guinness: The chocolatey tones devine; It beats Budweiser, oft preferred by swine. I must say There is something amiss; about people who prefer horse piss."

There's a bit of a twinkle to the eye, "Saluti." He pauses to take another sip of his drink. The glass sets down. "You give a good argument. I generally do have something to say with my lyrics. But, sometimes what I have to say is for amusement."

Helmut Zemo has posed:
    Zemo gives a hearty chuckle before raising his glass again to the poem that Mike pulled out of nowhere. "Irish before, Italian today. Interesting combination of languages." He notes, before setting the glass back down. "Lyrics, ahh, music. You know, you bear a resemblance to Nick Drago."

  He raises his glass one last time before gesturing to the waitress for another. "Nothing wrong with amusement, most of the most interesting accomplishments started off as something to pass the time, or to have a good time."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
The smirk that had been forming during the toast remains at the response given to the made up toast and the comments about the languages. "Well, I was in Ireland and Italy in May. But I've only picked up a few phrases here and there." Mike gives a bit of a shrug, "That's probably more betraying of where I spent most of my downtime."

He glances down to the mention of his stage name. "I get that a lot." The musician admits, "I had one guy tell me I could do some look-alike things if I needed another source of income. But then, again, he also mistook me for a drug dealer when I was dropping off someone's carry-on, so..." He waves his hand a little. "Didn't really consider the advice."

Helmut Zemo has posed:
     A hearty laugh from Zemo before he slid the empty glass to the end of the table. "Ahh, I trust you had a good time?" Though the addition of someone mentioning that Mike could be a look-alike does give him a laugh. "Well. Did you look like a drug dealer? I don't think so myself, but then again, all the drug dealers I knew tended to dress rather...overtly. And without regard to showing off their money."

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"It probably didn't help that at the time I was using this." Mike shifts to his side for a moment, tugging something out of his pants pocket before setting it on the table. An old school Nokia with a smashed screen. "To be fair I do switch over to a work phone when I'm traveling. Seems some people insist on Facetime. But when I'm on my own time this works out."

He leans back gesturing to his attire, "Add this, and the fact the carry on I was returning was a backpack. Well..." It seems he's had a long time to think about this.

He leaves the phone on the table, giving Helmut time to study it while he downs a bit more of his beer.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
    Mike's phone had been taken out, and showed to Zemo. "Oh. Well...that looks like...yes. It looks like a burner phone." A shrug of he shoulders has Helmut grasping at the sandwich again before dipping it in the last of his jus. "But still, you do not look like a drug dealer I have ever seen before. Even with the...eclectic choice of mobile." Finishing the statement before he finishes off the sandwich.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"Well, sometimes people see what they want to see." Mike replies back, opting not to go into further detail about that aquaintance's motivation. He gives Helmut an assessing glance, "You surprised me as well." He comments, "I did not have you pegged as a Drago fan. Took two run-ins for you land on that comment." He gives a pointed glance over to the notepad before grabbing the glass to finish off his beer.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
     "I see..." Zemo comments, looking to the notebook, and back. "Now it makes sense."

  "Well, for what it's worth. I had only seen pictures, most of the songs I would listen to on CD." There was a bit of a chuckle at that last statement, they wouldn't let much smart technology in prison, but they did allow physical media.

Michael Hannigan has posed:
"Well, you're not too far behind," Mike comments, setting the now emptied glass down, pulling out several bills to set on the bill tray that the stealthy server has set in place. "I rarely show up in the music videos."

He flips open the notebook, exposing the makings of a set list before he flips to a blank sheet of paper. Tugging out the pen, he starts to scrawl out something. After a few moments, the paper is ripped out, folded and set before Helmut. "I have to go. But- in case you're curious. The fourth leg is starting up this week. Kick-off show is in town. But I warn you. It's a Thursday." He starts to get up, gathering phone and notebook. He gives a bit of an impish grin, "Au revoir." There. Have another language.

Meal paid for, he heads on out.

Helmut Zemo has posed:
     His interest piqued, and the waitress dropping off his second glass of beer. The notebook paper torn and slid over to Zemo.

  "Auf wiedersehen." He bids the rocker, before he leaves, and he reaches for the note. "Mike, Nick. You are an interesting creature." He comments, before placing the note in his jacket. "Thursday...hmm."