Jack of Hearts // Marvel // Barsortofthing
A door to the bar opens.
In walks the world's unluckiest C-lister.
It's perhaps a testament to the garishness of Jack Hart's home universe that a half-purple man in bright blue alien-manufactured chain mail, a red and gold metal chest plate, and thigh-high gold boots festooned with hearts probably wouldn't get a second glance back home.
Well, perhaps that's an overstatement. By the standards of his home Earth and not a few alien confederations, Jack's pretty pimp in his choice of vestments, with the red heart over his right eye pushing him over the top into something approaching Cirque du Soleil.
He's almost twenty feet into the bar before the cognitive whiplash sets in.
Okay, a bar.
A bar with...patrons, for lack of a better word. Jack will diplomatically call everyone "people" and leave it at that; he's a well-traveled man, has done a few tours of duty with the Avengers (not to mention his own self-imposed off-planet exile), and has seen his fair share of the diversity of things that the universe deems drinking establishments, restaurants, and pleasure palaces.
"...No cover charge?"
He has to fight the impulse to reach for his wallet. Just in case.
In walks the world's unluckiest C-lister.
It's perhaps a testament to the garishness of Jack Hart's home universe that a half-purple man in bright blue alien-manufactured chain mail, a red and gold metal chest plate, and thigh-high gold boots festooned with hearts probably wouldn't get a second glance back home.
Well, perhaps that's an overstatement. By the standards of his home Earth and not a few alien confederations, Jack's pretty pimp in his choice of vestments, with the red heart over his right eye pushing him over the top into something approaching Cirque du Soleil.
He's almost twenty feet into the bar before the cognitive whiplash sets in.
Okay, a bar.
A bar with...patrons, for lack of a better word. Jack will diplomatically call everyone "people" and leave it at that; he's a well-traveled man, has done a few tours of duty with the Avengers (not to mention his own self-imposed off-planet exile), and has seen his fair share of the diversity of things that the universe deems drinking establishments, restaurants, and pleasure palaces.
"...No cover charge?"
He has to fight the impulse to reach for his wallet. Just in case.