Owner	Pose
Scott Lang	Power Girl's funds were going to good use. Well, they were getting used at least. After convincing Grail into his little blue Focus, Scott being a true gentleman and getting the door for her, which was 99% him trying to avoid her ripping it off, they were off to a hotel first, getting Grail set-up in not quite a penthouse but at least a nice suite for the next couple of days. With strict orders of 'Do Not Disturb' and 'Leave Meals Outside.'      Now back in the car and with Monet flying overhead, Scott sets a large pizza from the hotel restaurant in Grail's lap as he pulls out into traffic heading for the real test. Keeping Grail properly distracted for a few more hours until they get a response back.      "Here, you might want something that, you know, resembles actual food I figure," Scott suggests, a couple cans of soda set in the cupholders, studiously buckling up and almost about to say something to her before stopping himself. If what he'd seen so far was accurate, a seatbelt probably wasn't a concern for her.      "Monet, just, keep us away from any road ragers while we get over there? Last thing I need is a fender bender turning into a galactic war," Scott only half whispers into his communicator as he starts threading through city traffic. Ordinarily he'd shrink himself and the entire car to speed things along, but surprising Grail with that right now seemed unwise, or even letting her know what powers he had for that matter if things went sour, Scott still casting what could only be called very nervous glances over at her about ever ten seconds.
Monet St. Croix	Monet St. Croix is flying above the vehicle and goes to take a moment to sigh. What hse's reduced to. But she did want to come along with this and they're letting her. So that means not belittling them for something that she's brought upon herself. "Will do. There does not appear to be anything untoward." She's not scanning telepathically, just the joys of having a wide line of sight from flying twenty or thirty meters up in the air.     "Some construction, vendors attempting to sell things to those stuck in traffic, someone wearing an amphibian outfit is going across the drive in pursuit of someone that appears to be wearing brightly clad neon and leaving a trail of dots behind him detonating. Once they have moved on traffic should pick up again."     She may be sarcastic. Then again, in New York this could be very much a completely normal thing. This would go down to Scott laong hte communicator. Meant in it's way as Monet -attempting- to keep in good humor and hopefully relax things.
Grail	It's really not all that hard for Grail to keep people from bothering her. She's got grey skin, is over six foot tall, and has red eyes that very occasionally seem to spark or glow when she gets agitated. She glares at people more than speak to them as she is used to most conversations being for the purposes of backstabbing and the like. She settles into the car with a grumble as she gets in, looking around at the area about. "Is this what you call accomodations? Seems extravagant." She states to seeing the room that she is offered and then pushes on the bed before shaking her head and following Scott back out. When she is given the box of pizza, she stares at the food and leans down to sniff at it before pulling up a piece and grimacing a little at the melting cheese and dripping bits, looking at it. "It doesn't look bad but this certainly wasn't from any creature I have heard of." She takes a bite of it and then makes a face of contemplation before nodding and taking another bite. "It is acceptable." She then continues before simply picking up the soda can and staring at it. She then hmms, "Why is it sealed?"
Scott Lang	"Not all food is just...do you cook where you're from? I mean you teleported here I would think any civilization that can teleport has menus and...you know what nevermind it's not important," Scott says. ALIEN he reminds himself, even if she did mostly look like a tall woman who got shaded incorrectly. The can actually makes him more nervous as he takes one hand off the wheel to slowly reach over and pop the tab before she tries to open it, in any other fashion that was guaranteed to make a mess inside his vehicle. "Keeps it fizzy. Look we're just gonna go someplace we can play a few games OK? Real simple, help ya relax, shouldn't be crowded this time of day. You like games? Or you more into music? You know, how do you, relax in your offtime?" Scott desperately searching for clues as he thinks back to her crushing the rail underfoot and chucking Captain Cold more or less straight into the ER. Thanks Power Girl, leave him with the brand new super alien while you play phone tag. Scott grumbles and leans forward in the driver seat, accelerating through a yellow light a fair bit more aggressively than he might normally.      "Monet if anyone tries to squeegee my windows I'm holding you responsible up there on overwatch...while you're at it try to keep the birds away too," Scott MAYBE just maybe giving the younger hero a hard time as the official Avenger sticks her not just on traffic copter but also bird repellant, a fair bit of downgrade from an official Princess, Scott sticking his head out the window briefly to give her an oh so innocent smile and wave before settling back in. They were close now at least, Scott not picking anyplace too far to drive for obvious reasons.
Monet St. Croix	Monet St. Croix would let out a sigh over at Scott and through the comm, "I would suggest in that case to simply put something to mark your vehicle to drive onlookers away. Have you considered some sort of ram on the front or sawblades? That would be most effective in ensuring that you're given a wider berth in traffic as well." Traffic is getting moving again. As far as Monet cared, Captain Cold was arrested and the Rhino had been de-horned.     <<What is your immediate assessment of her?>> Monet sends this to Scott telepathically. He is the Avenger, after all. So Monet is deferring to his judgement and discretion. She floatsa long the air above, watching and observing things ahead. "Traffic is moving, hopefully we should be there shortly." Why was she doing this again with the very, very terrifying alien woman that was yet the latest entity that could fingerflick her into goo?     Becaus she was an idiot, that's why.
Grail	A look at him and Grail squints a little, "Of course we cook our food. We simply do not cook it or mold it to look like...this." She stares at the food before looking at him and shrugging as she then considers the drink. SHe sips it and makes a face before shrugging and sipping it again. "This is quite sweet. I do not understand why it is like this, either. Your people have strange tastes." She then blinks at him before looking ahead. "Where I am from, there is not off time or games. There is fighting and there is resting. When you aren't resting, you should be fighting, either with your words or with your body. It is not a kind place." She states simply enough even as she looks ahead and stares at the traffic. She casually points ahead. "If you are worried about how long things will take or what people might be in our way, I can simply take you, this car, and myself to the destination. I am not even sure why were are taking this conveyance. It seems inefficient. Do your people not have mass transit?"
Scott Lang	"Yea soda can be an acquired taste and I..." Scott pausing as he considers briefly what if he had just introduced an alien with super strength to the concept of a caffeine rush...no that was stupid, no way, shaking his head to dismiss that thought. "I'm sure most of our cuisine will be weird to you. Hell I imagine cuisine on ANY other world would be weird, lucky it's even edible," he conjectures as finally there it was ahead. 'Sticks & Holes' the minigolf arcade with a terrible name, a giant flat golfball sign slowly turning in the sky out by the road. Scott pulls in to find parking and goes on, "Consider this a vacation then. We workout but constant fighting isn't really our thing. And kindness is appreciated, well, by most people," he clarifies recalling some of the swearing back in traffic. As he turns the car off he pauses before getting out yet to say, "And please do not pick up my car. Or me. Look we're not in a hurry right now, Power Girl will get back to us soon about the Amazons so we can be inefficient as we want unless something else comes up. Lets just, take our time. Chill," Scott insists with a grin that was becoming more and more relaxed.      <<She seems calm, curious. I guess the whole stepping into a warzone thing might have had a lot to do with the attitude before. And Power Girl flexing at her getting the uh, estrogen machismo up or whatever. I think we're OK now though>> he responds to Monet. Truth, Grail hadn't threatened or even growled at them, the grey skin and red eyes Scott realized putting him a bit off kilter. If anything she'd been more sociable than Power Girl was some days.      "C'mon we'll get you a putter, see how this goes. Monet you coming down to play a round too or what?" Scott questions over the comm as he leaves the car, clad in his Ant-Man suit, a grey amazon presumably behind him and another woman likely flying down from the sky as he approaches the ticket counter. "Three adults for the course," Scott says casually to the minimum wage college student behind the counter who stares for a long while before silently handing them three clubs, colored balls, and a scoresheet.
Monet St. Croix	The commentary from Scott is meant with measured analysis and agreement from Monet St. Croix. <<Yes. While I can.. Appreciate your girlfriend's braggacio, I feel that in a context requiring diplomacy her methods leave much to be desired. Have you considered perhaps trying to get her into some form of therapy? I would presume she would not listen to most but you may have more luck with getting her into anger management?>>     As the van goes in over to the mini-golf lot she goes to sigh, "The majority of the civilized world has mass transit, but the AMericans seem to think that they are so much smarter by finding ways to waste so much more inventively. It's part of their pasttime." Glancing over at the boy manning the counter and debating a mental comand to 'make yourself scarce' but deciding the circumstances didn't particularly warrant it.
Grail	Looking at the man, she stares at him for a long moment before shaking her head. She waits till they arrive, looking at the colors and seeming things that this place is about before she accidentally shuts the door to hard. Scott can hear some metal groaning and that might have been glass cracking. It's unclear. Either way, Grail fails to notice and/or care. She walks after him to the place where they collect their balls and clubs. "Your people focus on too many things that keep them weak." She looks to Monet when she lands and then looks at the putter she is offered, "This seems like a poor excuse for a weapon."
Scott Lang	The sharp intake of air from Scott when he hears his door is the only reaction he gives to that. For now. He'd make Power Girl pay for THAT later. His smile a bit more forced he passes out the mini-golf accessories. Surely Monet at least knows how...actually did other countries have mini-golf? He...what did she say in his head? His face goes through a myriad of emotions looking at Monet before stating aloud, and not in psychic speech, "I'm not, dating, Power Girl," enunciating each word with extra emphasis and actually glancing to the skies as if afraid she might suddenly sonic boom overhead. While the two bash American transporation he heads for the first hole, a simple straight shot down a tiny fairway with a couple of wood blocks in the way.      "I already told you, we're here to play a game, it's not a weapon. Now watch," Scott setting down his own ball, feet shoulder width apart, back straight, all the stuff one hears about how to hit a golfball. He gives it a smack and it careens off one block at an angle and plops straight into the hole. Scott is bad at many things, but he has practice at mini-golf it would seem as he cockily smiles at the other pair. "Now you try," he challenges.
Monet St. Croix	Monet St. Croix would look over at Scott for a moment and then sigh, "If you wish." She would glance over at Grail, "There are many more forms of combat than purely gladitorial and melee. One must learn other ways of engaging an adversary. There are a great many ways to outmaneuver someone and how to eliminate them and manipulate them. This maze showcases a rather effective methodology of breaking dwon the consciousness of those going through it. And imbues those working with soul searing agony through such menial labor. It's a rather effective mix. It works at helping to deaden down the spirit to prepare it for the worse things that will happen in live through the practice of ennui and tedium."
Grail	Looking at Scott, she watches what he does and then she considers. She shakes her head slowly, "This is a game in which you try to get the ball into the hole?" She gestures, "Using this club." She then looks over at Monet and then looks to the person who took the exchange of paper for these clubs. She considers before looking then at the ball. "I see. So, all that nonsense she just stated to try to play to my apoparent coming from a planet of fighting and lying leads to this being a game that is mean to be a contest to see who can get this ball into the hole faster?" She asks and looks to Scott before she looks to Monet. "And while I appreciate your attempt, a good lie is better left simple." She nods her head.
Scott Lang	Scott looks between the two of them, Monet with her scathing reviews of capitalism, Grail with her apparent feeling of being lied to. He groans and literally facepalms. "It's just, it's just minigolf. Will you two just try it and leave your views on capitalism or whatever behind? Cripes my 8 year old daughter knows how this works and how to have fun at it. Ball, on ground, hit with club towards hole. I don't wanna hear another word about gladiatorial combat or the worker's spirit. MINI GOLF. That's IT!" Scott declares and those who know it might recognize the tone of voice he's putting on. The Dad voice. How it worked on Monet and Grail remained to be seen but they clearly touched a nerve spurning one of his favorite pastimes.
Monet St. Croix	Monet St. Croix would shake her head, "we merely attempt to understand you better and your culture. It gives us a way to engage with one another. And this is still a locale fraught with trauma." W ell, for the workers at least. Those whom worked the service industry and retail. She would sigh over at Scott.     "Very well, if you insist." She would shrug over at Grail. "It gives you time to plan your next moves and your followup schemes."
Grail	Squinting at Scott, she glances briefly at Monet before eying him carefully. She sets down her ball and then stands up straight before eying Scott carefully. "Take care with your words, I do not even need to approach you in order to destro you." Her eyes flare briefly with a bright red before she casually hits the ball and sends it rolling down the green before it hits in the same general area as Scott's. It doesn't quite make it in the hole but it comes close. She then considers the putter and hmms. She walks over to her ball and then looks to him. "Do we take turns and it is now her turn or do we simply keep going until we are done?"
Scott Lang	"Monet the only trauma is your speeches. Just smack the ball already," Scott insists, a small throbbing headache developing in the back of his skull as he fishes his own ball out of the hole. How many more were there to go? He was starting to have regrets already, he should've went with the Monster Truck Rally. He wouldn't have been able to hear anything then. Hindsight not being a hero that could save him though he backpedals away from Grail as he takes notice of her own rising temper. "H-hey, lets not, look you don't wanna do that. Power Girl would be upset and we don't need a fight between you two, believe me. And uh, usual rule is Monet would go next," Scott explains, thankful for the low crowds right now as they hogged up the course.
Monet St. Croix	Monet St. Croix would shrug, "There is some form of ritual to this that I suppose that I will defer to him on, as the expert." She would go to watch over at Grail. "And we have parleyed with you and agreed to help you have your conversation wtih the Amazons. It would be impolite to murder us and beat us to a fine paste before then. Besides, it would clash horribly with your outfit." She would move over to put herself in front of Scott by just a few degrees. Then sighing.     "If I must.." Going to hit the ball without paying too much attention as it would wobble along.
Grail	Watching Scott carefully, Grail does her best not to immediately kill the man who seems to be her keeper. She has been given this treatment before. It isn't the first time given her father. She has killed a few people who dared to upset her as she knew it was allowed. Still, she didn't want to start a battle juet yet. People here are clearly more than meets the eye sometimes. Still, something Monet says has her grinning. "My outfit is designed for blood and gore." She looks at her with a smile that is a bit disconcerting, "I assure you, everything about me is designed for it." She chuckles slightly even as she watdches Monet go before she then hits her ball one more time to make it go in the hole and retrieves it.
Monet St. Croix	Monet St. Croix would nod, "Yes, but as with everything there are ways to improve. After all, your attire is suited no doubt for the blood and gore of whatever realm you are originally from. You don't knwo how well it might handle the smear of our own forms now. You don't want to risk something that won't launder off." She was rather blaise with this. "So, hopefully soon enough you can go an dsee the Amazons, get somewhat more permanent accomodations, and then go out and find something that better suits the local gladitorial arenas and death matches."
Scott Lang	It was the longest mini golf game of Scott's life. Oh the actual time it took was certainly far less than an hour but between Grail's threats of violence and Monet's somewhat sarcastic respect it seems far, far longer. His nerves fray and even with experience on his side he soon falls behind while Grail's superhuman abilities and lifetime of hand eye coordination training sees her pull ahead. When the final ball rolls into the hole he looks like he has aged a decade as he gathers their clubs and drops them on the counter to return, the student by now having worked up a bit of courage to say something.      "Dude those girls are pretty ho-" they get out before Scott holds up a finger, a look in his eyes of a possessed man as he leans forward.      "They're not. Pray for me," he whispers in a dry dead voice as he trudges back to his damaged car. "C'mon then, lets see if we can't get an update or something by now," he drones as he slips into his car.