9375/What're You Doing After the Show

What're You Doing After the Show
Date of Scene:	31 December 2021
Location:	Outside a Brooklyn club, near Casey's Garage.
Synopsis:	Casey saves Sofia from a mugging. They have a couple beers afterward.
Cast of Characters:	Sofia Maroni, Casey Jones

---

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia Maroni sings at a lot of clubs, as her schedule allows. It's not like she really needs the money; she just loves to sing. It takes her back to an older time. A simpler time.

And it reminds her of her father.

This particular club in Brooklyn is a new one for her, but the crowd liked the old stuff. She'll definitely be back.

Well past midnight, Sofia leaves by the front door and waves goodbye to the other band members. Rather than flagging down a cab (which is how she arrived), instead the blonde walks around the corner and into an alley.

Casey Jones has posed:
A new gang has been pushing into the area, and it's really begun to get on Casey's nerves. Just the other night he had to rough up some guys who were trying to threaten old Li, the guy who runs the Dim Sum place across the street from his shop. Casey even got stabbed! Dicks.

He didn't attend the show. He doesn't usually go to the clubs, honestly. No, tonight he's out and looking for some exercise. Tight, worn jeans and combat boots, with a sleeveless shirt. A honey mask and some sports pads make up his 'costume'. Across his back is a gold bag loaded down with stuff. Baseball bats, clubs, cricket bat. All that stuff.

He's been stalking a group of the green-bandana wearing punks for about twenty minutes now, and he watches from the corner as they descend upon the singer.

"Heeeey. Lookin' good. They pay you for those pipes?"

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia is wearing an old-fashioned trench coat, buttoned up neatly over her cocktail dress and heels. Yeah, there's no way this girl's gonna run, right? She was actually just reaching for the buttons to take less-conventional means home when she hears the voices.

Stopping in her tracks, the blonde singer lets out a sigh. She really doesn't have time for this, and she isn't even packing heat. Shit. Sofia turns slowly, using the opportunity to check out the gang. Taking a mental head count, she notes weapons.

"You think that up all by yourself, did you?" she counters.

Casey Jones has posed:
Three men, likely all in their late teens to mid-twenties. Jeans, jerseys, green bandanas. One has a buttefly knife out, while another is holding a pistol. The last one makes sure she can see his shiney brass knuckles.

"Oh, you a comedian or a singer?," he growls in response, his cheeks flushing a bit as he's mocked. As he steps forward he pulls back his hand to make a jab with his knife.

He lets out a cry as a baseball connects with his knuckles with enough force to break two of them. The knife falls from numbing fingers as he grabs at his hand, glancing about with wide eyes.

The other two whirl about just in time for the hockey-mask wearing vigilante to spring into view. "TIME TO HURT, FUCKOS! GOONGALA!" His hockey stick swings, catching another man hard across his face. His cheek crackes and his nose breaks, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia watches the three approach, and there is no fear in her eyes. She shifts her stance as the knife is raised, blinking when the baseball bat knocks it clattering to the pavement. Side-stepping the injured guy (now without the knife), Sofia gets a nice view of the hockey-stick swing.

This would be a great time to run. Except she doesn't.

Moving smoothly, she bends to scoop up the dropped, half-open knife. Flip-flip-flip. Now it's closed. Flip-flip-flip. Now it's open again. Girl definitely knows what she's doing.

Rather than launching herself at the last one, she watches the athletic-themed vigilante.

Casey Jones has posed:
While the first two goons suffer (And it was a baseball, not a bat! Baseball zooming through the air! Zoom! Fast ball!) Casey turns to square off with the third man. The guy has a gun, which kind of complicates things.

"This what you guys get off on?," Casey grunts. "Pushing girls around? Make you a big man?" He really has no idea how powerful Sofia is, but the sentiment is there, of course. "That kinda stuff isn't welcome around here."

The guy raises the pistol with a shakey hand, and Casey lunges. He swings the hickey stick around, knocking the pistol right out of the man's hand. He then steps in, closing the distance and stepping within the man's swing arc. His own fist comes up roughly and connects with the guy's throat. It makes a sickening sound, and he falls to the ground, gasping. Casey then turns, connecting his boot with the face of the first man, who was beginning to get to his feet.

Soon all three are knocked out and pretty roughly maimed. He glances over at Sofia.

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Gun down! Sofia relaxes, heels clicking on the pavement as she approaches the one whose knife she now holds. No, he's no longer a threat. But he spoiled an otherwise good evening. Crouching beside him, she drives the knife through the fleshy part of his hand and into the asphalt. Hard. It's not going to come out easily.

"You dropped this." she offers, almost casually.

Rising smoothly, she offers a smile to Casey. "Thanks very much for that. I'm Sofia."

Casey Jones has posed:
The man is out cold already, but he'll wake up to a LOT of pain, for sure. Casey, meanwhile, lets out a whistle when he watches her do that with the knife. "Guess you didn't need my help. Eh, I've been wanting to bust these goons' heads, anyways." He shrugs a firmly muscled shoulder and then cocks his head to the side.

"This was my last stop tonight," he grunts, pulling his mask up in front. He's really bad at secret identities, honestly. Not that the mask honestly keeps much hidden.

"Wanna come in for a night cap? I could use a drink after that." He gestures across the street to a two story building. Outside is a sign that reads 'JONES AUTO GARAGE.'

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia tilts her head, full lips pulling into a small smile at his words. "Oh actually I -did- need your help." she lies. "At the very least, you saved me a whole lot of trouble." Her gaze follows his gesture and she nods. "Jones, hmm?" she replies wryly.

Then she nods, stepping up closer to Casey. A swift kick at one of the gangers with those expensive pumps breaks a couple of ribs. Audibly. Another smile, then she turns to slip one arm through Casey's in a very old-fashioned gesture. "I'd love a night cap, thanks."

Casey Jones has posed:
He smirks a bit at that kick, and he nods a bit. "Damn, girl." His arm is thickly muscled. While he appears sculpted, he has the thickness of someone who really uses his muscle. He slides his hockey stick back into the golf bag and turns to lead the way.

Soon they are in front of the garage, and he fishes out a set of keys with his free hand to unlock the place. "Casey," he finally says. "Case Jones." Inside is, well, an auto shop. An old Mustang is currently up on the risers, and there are tool boxes, and undercarriage to drain oil and everything else you'd expect in a decent shop. It's small, though.

Sofia Maroni has posed:
"Sorry, my daddy had a bit of a mean streak. I guess some of it rubbed off on me." Sofia replies. Yeah, her daddy was a Mafia Don, but who's counting? She's not bulky by any means, but has a certain lean, toned confidence about her.

Her steps are brisk, even in those heels, and she keeps up easily enough as he leads the way across the street. When he fishes out the keys, Sofia takes a last, parting look around at the street behind them. No movement. Good. Old habits, and all that.

She unbuttons her coat on the way inside, careful where she steps as she looks around the garage. "Thanks again, Casey. Sofia Marion." Under the coat is a black cocktail dress, simple yet also elegant.

Casey Jones has posed:
"Nice to meetcha, Sofia." He slings his bag off and stashes it behind the cashier counter, before he takes off his hockey mask and tucks it into a drawer. He takes off his various pads as well, stacking them nearby. Soon he's left in boots, jeans, and the sleeveless shirt.

"No reason to apologise," he grunts. He turns, then, and leads the way up a staircase to the second floor. It's an apartment! There's a living room, bedroom, kitchenette and bathroom. Nothing fancy. But space is at a premium in the city. The living room and bedroom has old, brown shag carpet, while the rest has tile. Various sports posters and memorabilia is about. There's an old television with a scattering of DVDs on shelves, a couch and the usual stuff.

Sofia Maroni has posed:
The cocktail dress has straps, no sleeves, and a low plunging back. The pumps are well-heeled and glossy black to match the velvet. She follows up the stairs once he's removed his gear, keeping the coat draped over her arm. No judgement here, of course, as she looks around.

"Pleasure, Casey. Not the first bachelor pad I've visited, either." Women can just tell these things, somehow. "So you fix cars by day and beat up bad guys at night?"

Casey Jones has posed:
"At least until the Mets get back to me," he says in a joking tone. He crosses the apartment to the kitchenette, and he leans in to fish out two Coors Lights. Yeah, that seems about right with him.

He turns to toss one of the cans to her before he opens his own with a hiss. He takes a long pull from it before letting out a sigh. "Needed that. So...you a singer, then?"

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia catches the can neatly, then taps the lid. Pulling the tab, she takes a long, slurping pull from her own and raising it high. Raising the can, she takes a look at the lable and seems a bit surprised. "Very nice." she declares. "I forgot you can get Coors East of the Rockies now."

She drapes her coat over something that's not likely to stain it, stepping slowly over to settle her butt against the back of a chair. "I'm a lot of things." she replies. "But I sing because I enjoy it." Pause for another, slower, drink. "So how'd you get into your, um, sports hobby?"

Casey Jones has posed:
"It's a rough neighborhood. Used to be rougher," he says easily enough. He walks over to the window and tugs it open, letting in the sounds of nighttime Brooklyn, along with the fresh air. He leans there, looking outside.

"Cops are mostly bastards, and not enough people were doin' stuff to stop the gangs and syndicates. The normal folks were bein' pushed around. So..." He shrugs a muscled shoulder. "...Awhile back I went out and cleared house. Haven't been back out for awhile, though. Kinda gave it up after ending up in the ER. But...these new guys have brought me outta retirement."

Sofia Maroni has posed:
"This was my first gig in Brooklyn." She replies. "At least my first in a very long time. Won't be the last, though. Nice crowd tonight, and they liked the older stuff." Another swig, slow and deep, then she lowers her can and gives him a curious look.

"You ended up in the ER?" Her gaze wanders a touch, looking for scars or other signs. "And you still go back out there. That says something about you, Casey Jones. Not a lot of guys would do that."

Casey Jones has posed:
His clothes cover any obvious scars, but a few small onces are visible on his arms and face, and his knuckles have certainly seen use. He shrugs again and looks out the window.

"Back then we didn't have punks with bandanas threatening girls with knives. We had fuckin' ninjas. No joke. They played a lot harder. Got a sword to the gut and a few ninja stars in my leg. Took me awhile to get going again after that. Shoulda died, for sure."

He glances back from the window. "So I quit for awhile. Who wouldn't?"

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia tilts her head at that, expression becoming curious. "Ninjas? Like the ones in those movies?" No, she doesn't look like she believes him until he mentions taking a sword thrust and throwing stars. She whistles low. "And I thought the Jersey side was bad."

Another deep swig finishes her beer, then Sofia crushes the can with one hand. "Well your neighbors are probably thankful that you -didn't- quit, at least now." For a moment, she looks like she's struggling with something, then Sofia exhales slowly.

"You were right back there, Casey. I didn't really need your help. But I'm not a ninja, I promise. You got another one of these?"

Casey Jones has posed:
"Yeah, like the movies. It...well, it was a whole damn thing." He shakes his head with a small chuckle and then walks over to slide down into the couch, facing her as they talk.

He brings his beer for nother pull, also finishing his own. "I figured. You shoved that knife in without a problem. You don't gotta tell me what's up with you if you don't want. I know people got secrets. But eh, beating those punks up was as much for me as it was for you. Now, obviously, a lot more." He smirks and nods, gesturing to the fridge.

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia chuckles softly, giving him a few slow nods as well. "Thanks, Casey. And I really mean that. I'm not usually one to share my secrets, but you're all right." Gripping the can by the top, a curling finger pops the tab one-handed before she raises it to drink.

"What are your religious beliefs, if you don't mind the direct question?" she asks, slurping down the second can quite rapidly. "Or I guess a better question might be, what are your views on the old gods?"

Casey Jones has posed:
"Never really thought about it. Grew up Catholic, but it didn't really stick, I guess..."

He trails off and lounges back on the couch, watching her curiously now as she gets another beer. "What, you like Thor or somethin'? I got a Goddess in my apartment. Well, it explains how you look like that in that cocktail dress..." His tone is teasing. Not nonbelieving, but he clearly handles stuff with jokes or violence.

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia chuckles at the comment about Thor, and she shakes her head. "Um, not exactly." she replies. Crushing the second can as easily as the first, she rises and steps over to the fridge to retrieve a couple more beers. Sofia hands him one, sitting very close. Crossing one leg over the other puts her foot in just the right position to tease his calf.

"Actually I'm part Italian and part Greek. No Norse. I'm not a goddess, but my mother is. That makes me a demigoddess, technically speaking." And all the while she watches him for a reaction.

Casey Jones has posed:
He takes the beer from her, and he arches an eyebrow as she settles in. He swallows when he foot brushes his calf, but brushes it off as an accident. He turns his attention fully to her as he sips his beer.

"Like Hercules from the books? No shit. I loved reading those as a kid. Didn't he kill his wife?" He trails off and shakes his head. "Eh, nevermind. So...huh. Half-God?"

He's acting casual, but it's obvious the man is really trying to take it all in. This is so far beyond his experience.

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia Maroni half-turns to face him, and as she does she casually rubs that foot up and down along his calf. Nope, not an accident. "Sort of like Hercules." she replies with a wry smile. "Except without the... groupies." Apparently she is speaking from experience.

"My mom is Aphrodite, which is also where I get my singing voice. She's part Siren, of course. But I work for Iris, the Goddess of Rainbows. She's the female equivalent to Hermes, and carries messages."

Sofia looks at him more closely, then. "You don't believe me."

Casey Jones has posed:
That second rub makes it obvious, and the man sits up a bit. "Wait, he's real, too?" He shakes his head a bit, brushing his fingers back through his shaggy hair. He watches her carefully, his look more intense now. He sips his beer again.

"I...Aphrodite? Goddess of hotness?"

His gaze dips again, but slower this time. "I don't know. I mean...we have weirder shit running around, right? And I don't know how you could prove it to me, anyways. Hm."

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia actually rolls her eyes as she uncrosses her legs to rise. "Oh she's Goddess of Hotness alright. And... a lot of other titles that are much less flattering." Setting down the crushed can with the other, she turns to face him. "Iris isn't very well-known now, but she IS famous for her speed. And shapeshifting. And for being able to fly."

Sofia checks carefully around the small apartment, she draws a deep breath and exhales slowly. Large wings sprout slowly from her bared shoulders, rainbow-hued feathers rustling. She doesn't unfold them completely, just enough to fill a good portion of the room.

Casey Jones has posed:
He looks like he's about to say something snarky, but then the wings unfold. He sits up and his beer falls from his hand, splashing onto the carpet.

"Ah, shit!"

He drops down to pick the can up, and he glances up again, taking her in. "Okay, yeah. Yeah, I believe you. Whoa."

Sofia Maroni has posed:
There's something else in that transformation besides just the wings. Sofia's features shift a little as well, losing all blemishes and becoming a more perfect reflection of Greek beauty. Another flutter, then she slowly folds the wings into her back.

When she sits back down on the couch beside him, Sofia's features are back to what he saw outside the alley. She takes a long, shimmering feather and offers it to him. "For tomorrow. In case you doubt your memory." the woman adds.

"So that's me, then. I won't bore you with how messed up it was growing up. Everybody's got their problems."

Casey Jones has posed:
He reaches out to take the feather, and he stares at it for a long moment. He then turns to set it aside. "Um, wow. Alright. Lots to take in..." He turns back towards her, his muscled arm lightly resting against her own, softer skin.

"Yeah, that's fair. I mean, it had to be weird. Not for you, I guess. It was normal for you. But...yeah." Smooth, Casey.

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia watches his face, a smile twitching. She doesn't pull away as his arm settles upon her own. One hand rests upon his thigh, then, and she leans in close to whisper. "I'm not my mother, Casey. And when you know more about her, you'll be thankful for that."

She stays close, too. "That's all you need to know about her for right now. I take care of my friends, and I can help you. I'll show you how to call me if you ever need me."

Casey Jones has posed:
Her hand on his thigh is noticed, but her words draw more of his attention...for now.

He turns to look her in tye eyes, and his brow furrows a bit. "Alright. Well...cool. Cool. Like a signal watch from Mothra or something?"

His gaze dips briefly to her lips.

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Those lips pull into a knowing smile, her eyes brightening. "Actually it's more like a phone call or a text. Except reception is guaranteed." Sofia replies. Yes, she knows the signs all too well.

But she isn't her mother's daughter. Not completely.

The hand on his thigh gives a slow squeeze, then pulls away. "It's late, or I'd love to stay." she offers, rising slowly. "Thanks for the help. And the drink. Check your phone once I'm gone."

Casey Jones has posed:
"Well, guaranteed reception is godly, for sure. Especially in this neighborhood..." He trails off when she squeezes his thigh, and he looks to her ad she stands, watching her move.

"We should hang sometime. If you want. Order a nice pie, drink some beers. Talk about ...I don't know. Hobbies?"

He rises to his feet, and walks over towards the door as she begins to leave. "It was...fun."

Sofia Maroni has posed:
Sofia scoops up her coat, stepping carefully through the bachelor-debris towards the door. "I'd like that. And maybe I'll fly you over the city or something. It's a wonderful view at night." she offers.

Reaching the door, she turns to face him and just studies his expression for a moment. "Pizza and beer sounds great, too." Pressing a palm to his cheek, she adds. "I promise I'll call, Casey. I really do like you." And then she steps out and heads down the stairs, moving quicker than she should in the heels.