Some people might have claimed that Gotham was a den of villainy and crime. Those people never heard about the wonders of the small island state of Madripoor, just south of Singapore. Those people would have, however, probably had more common sense than to book a drunken portal there.
(
Sadly, none of the boys involved were terribly gifted in common sense. )
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His... very bright... wing.
"The hat?
Or the vodka? Warren was already losing track.
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Another beat.
"And where is my shirt?!" The last part involved some maidenly covering of his chest. Or possibly just the chunk of glowing metal there.
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More or less.
"Probably back with the rest of them, in bar number..." He squinted a little, pulling his wings close to his back because if he did that, at least he didn't have to see them. "...Fffive?"
He had no idea.
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"Did I get a tattoo?" he wondered, glancing down at his chest, which was- blank. Huh.
But really, he could swear there'd been something last night involving someone getting stuff all over his chest...
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"Not that I'd make one."
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Logic would have dictated that he could just use that bracelet that Karla had given him to hide said wings. But Logic knew better than to go on holiday in Madripoor with two drunken mutants and Iron Man Mini.
"You know, you could have just said it was a slip-and-slide. I would have believed you."
Shut up.
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It was a purple feather.
It was totally staying purple.
All iced-shut roach motel doors were negligible for the time being.
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That... was pretty much busted by the ice on the door, because he had the feeling that sooner or later Tony was going to demand an explanation.
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"... Are we giving Bobby disapproving looks?"
He could do that! Mister water-soluble!
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