Thor isn't nearly as enthusiastic - not for lack of agreement that the young warriors deserve a bit of coming of age acknowledgement, or less appreciation for a few drinks and good food than his old friend - he just doesn't cust loose among mortals so easily. Even so, he's along, and in reasonably good spirits, ordering himself a tankard of mead and finding a place to settle back and keep an eye on things.
Behind the mighty warriors of debatable myth is Dr. Pym.
He's less concerned about celebration and much more concerned about Victor Mancha and Cassie Lang... both tied into his own legacy, albeit in different ways.
He's hoping he'll be able to talk to one or the other of them in a much more amiable setting. He wants to build trust, if at all possible after this debacle.
"AYE, BRING FORTH THE CHICKEN WINGS! BEER!! STRIPPERS!!!" comes the eager bluster from one Santo Vaccaro.
All he'd had to do to get permission to come to the party was point to the side of his mouth where four of his teeth were still missing. The Greek god of skirts owed him a chance to make merry, and he fully intended to take advantage of it.
Looking around, he's cresftallen. "Dude. No strippers? Aww, c'mon!! Call She-Hulk! Call Tigra! Call- are those the only two hot Amazons on your team? CALL SHE-HULK!!!" He has SO got his camera-phone ready.
"So... you're saying she's not hot enough to strip? Are you calling the She-Booty a faker? Are you SURE you're an Avenger?" He's starting to bristle. No one's gonna insult his fanboy obsession lady and get away with it. And not that it's any of GigantArse's business, but he's sixteen. Or will be next week.
He grumbles to Herc, "Where's the cool side of this bar?" Jeez, old heroes are lame. But the disappointment is quickly forgotten has he begins speculating the tight blouses on the barmaids.
Real....fake... too small to be fake... OMGSOFAKE!... real... hmm, could use a closer look at those...
O.K., she was just going to ignore the kids on the stupid X-team and try and get her friends to make idiots of themselves. "Go sing 'Ghostbusters'!" Cassie nudged her boyfriend.
"Oh, c'mon, Santo. You actually have to ask which side is the cool side of the bar?"
There was a knowing smirk from Julian, who, perhaps surprisingly, was behind the bar rooting through its contents. Beer was good, booze was better, though. May as well see what the house was carrying.
"Let's see... we're in a bar, with unlimited amounts of free liquor, you have a cute blonde chick asking you to make a fool out of yourself for her, and willing to make a fool out of herself alongside you...
"...and you're worried about people being clique-ish."
Even so, he's along, and in reasonably good spirits, ordering himself a tankard of mead and finding a place to settle back and keep an eye on things.
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He's less concerned about celebration and much more concerned about Victor Mancha and Cassie Lang... both tied into his own legacy, albeit in different ways.
He's hoping he'll be able to talk to one or the other of them in a much more amiable setting. He wants to build trust, if at all possible after this debacle.
Set an example, though... order orange juice.
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All he'd had to do to get permission to come to the party was point to the side of his mouth where four of his teeth were still missing. The Greek god of skirts owed him a chance to make merry, and he fully intended to take advantage of it.
Looking around, he's cresftallen. "Dude. No strippers? Aww, c'mon!! Call She-Hulk! Call Tigra! Call- are those the only two hot Amazons on your team? CALL SHE-HULK!!!" He has SO got his camera-phone ready.
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"You do know she's a lawyer, not a stripper? How old are you?"
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Hercules chuckles.
"I think, young warrior, that you will be content with chicken wings, beer, and the tight garments yon waitresses sport, for the moment?"
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"So... you're saying she's not hot enough to strip? Are you calling the She-Booty a faker? Are you SURE you're an Avenger?" He's starting to bristle. No one's gonna insult his fanboy obsession lady and get away with it. And not that it's any of GigantArse's business, but he's sixteen. Or will be next week.
He grumbles to Herc, "Where's the cool side of this bar?" Jeez, old heroes are lame. But the disappointment is quickly forgotten has he begins speculating the tight blouses on the barmaids.
Real....fake... too small to be fake... OMGSOFAKE!... real... hmm, could use a closer look at those...
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O.K., she was just going to ignore the kids on the stupid X-team and try and get her friends to make idiots of themselves. "Go sing 'Ghostbusters'!" Cassie nudged her boyfriend.
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There was a knowing smirk from Julian, who, perhaps surprisingly, was behind the bar rooting through its contents. Beer was good, booze was better, though. May as well see what the house was carrying.
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"...and you're worried about people being clique-ish."
A beat.
"You've never gotten laid, have you?"
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"That is not appropriate!" Sofia folded her arms.
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"Beautiful, we're all under legal drinking age, in a bar, about to get sloshed because both a greek god and a norse god think it would be cool."
Julian downed a shot of some good ole' Jack Daniels.
"There's not much going on in here that is appropriate, which is entirely the fun of it."
He grinned, then looked back at Danny.
"But my point still stands, Casper. You're focusing on the wrong thing right now."
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