Alessia, Ilad, Illyana, Jean-Paul, Laura (NPC), Leon, Nick, Xen
Friday night is a busy night for Chuck's, and the group of Titanites that have ventured off the base tonight were /extremely/ lucky to find a booth. It might have involved some pointed looks to hurry off another group who were lingering overlong without any food or drink left, but either way, they have a large booth to squeeze into. A recent hire is serving drinks tonight: a cute brunette with blonde highlights who's all smiles for the variety of customers that she's filling drinks for -- usually accompanied by a slice of cheerful conversation -- despite the rush.
Kelsey is snugged into the booth, all trapped on either side by people who shall be named in their poses (maybe), looking at the bottom of her glass. "Okay," she says, giving the announcement the weight it deserves. "I think someone's needing to be picking up our next round." She's in well-fitted jeans and a cute top of the nice-casual variety, and her hair is still twisted in the twin buns from earlier in the day.
Illyana is to the inside of the booth, we'll say at Kelsey's side, perhaps. She looks like she's hoping no one will recognize her from certain previous shenanigans at Chuck's back in the day, though her first drink or two has loosened her up considerably. Her hair is down, sending up floating wisps light around her shoulders, and she has a halter top, just a little sparkly. "I can't get out," she tells Kelsey, captain obvious.
"I got the first," Jean-Paul says, fending off Kelsey's announcement like a sissy. He's settled next to whoever is next to her, rather than being squished up at her side. Maybe he's next to Illyana! That would probably put him near the outside of the booth. Fuck. He is still on his first beer, maybe two-thirds through.
"I'll cover it," Nick says. It is possible the offer comes care of his position at the end of the opposite bench, with easier access to the bar than those more packed in. He unfolds from his seat, dusting his hands off on the tails of the pale blue shirt he wears, long-sleeved despite the heat. "Same again, or is anyone switching up?"
"Ah'll get the next." Al offers to Nick, finishing off her bourbon and coke after she speaks. She's dressed in nice jeans and a cute shirt, with her hair back in a loose french braid. She pauses to look around the table, a shake of her head at the question of switching. "Jack an' coke."
Beer handled one-handed, Ilad has nursed it slowly and not yet come to the end of the first. He examines its contents with a long look, and cocks an eyebrow; he sips with the shadow of a smile twitching his mouth up at one corner. He splits the difference between casual and otherwise, dress shirt a pale creamy jade open at the collar with its sleeves rolled back to his elbow, jeans coal-black. "Same again," he confirms. I have no idea where he is in relation to anybody else. "Thank you."
Leon would have gone for an end seat-- mainly in that he's bulky, and it's easier to not mush other people if he's towards one of the ends. Less elbow from one side anyway. Leon almost offered as well to help with the drinks, but lots of offers are out already-- he'll wait for those rounds to pass. "Same here, too; great." Leon's attire is vastly uninteresting, a dark green buttonup and somewhat worn-in dark blue jeans. Leon watches Alessia at his side, but it's mostly out of trying not to be too smushed against her-- not that there's another option at the moment.
"Still working on it," Jean-Paul says with a wave of his hand, passing over Nick's offer and making the burden shared with Alessia one lighter. Since he isn't helping carry, that is quite nice of him. Who knows what he is wearing. Clothing.
Jean-Paul should feel proud. While his glass is two-thirds gone, the pint of beer in front of Xen is only half empty as he sits in the booth. Probably inexplicably next to Kelsey on one side, Alessia on the other, sandwiched between two redheads. As the second round is talked about, the pilot eyes his glass warily, contemplating the idea of downing the rest of the slightly bitter brew just so he has an empty glass to replace. In the end, he only takes a sink, no offer of getting the nest round forthcoming. He's stuck in the booth.
You mean JP isn't publicly nude?
Probably not.
"You're brilliant," Kelsey tells Nick with a wide flash of a smile. "Same for me."
"I probably don't need another," Illyana frowns at the cranberry remains of her vodka and. "Thanks." She shakes her head, slowing the movement at the end, maybe judging how clear-headed she is.
Nick gives a general nod to acknowledge thanks and orders both, though Illyana's reply gets a half-teasing grin and a note of, "You can always get a virgin, if you get thirsty." He turns and cuts a path through the crowd towards the bar, too tall to quite /disappear/ in it.
In the quiet lull of the conversation, Ilad draws his thumb along the neck of the bottle, easily packed in sardine-like amidst the other people around the table at their booth, one leg extended a little too far beneath the table such that it probably bumps somebody else's, sorry. "Avi and I never really frequented this place much," he says, tipping his head to catch the twangy strains of music coming from the jukebox. "How did it become the Titan bar?"
"Proximity," Jean-Paul says as he picks up his bottle for a mouth-wetting sip.
"Ah," Ilad says. His thumb taps, once, against the glass. "Laziness."
The bar is a little crowded, but Nick has the benefit of size that can probably be used to his advantage to gain him a spot. The new bartender is chatting with a pair of middle-aged men as she fills up their pints and slides them over with a cheeky flash of a smile, and her next scan finds Nick the quickest. He is, after all, rather tall. "Hi there!" she greets him, leaning over the bar a touch to talk over the general hubbub of noise. "What can I get for you?" Her voice carries a light Southern twang, though it's hard to pinpoint above the chatter. Her dark hair is pulled back off her face in a high ponytail that gives the twentysomething a youthful cast to his features.
Kelsey opens her mouth a moment after Jean-Paul to possibly say the same thing, then just grins a little crookedly when he gets in first. "Apparently we don't like getting out of our backyards," she comments dryly.
Jean-Paul smiles. Though the curve of his lips is slight, humor is brighter in his eyes as he glances over at Ilad. "That too."
"I don't need a virgin anything," Illyana protests. She sips the remains of her current drink, making it last. "And for some reason they keep letting us come back, too," she says, dry, of the bar.
Slanting a look at Illyana, Jean-Paul only arches an eyebrow at her protestation. That is because he is mature and classy and doesn't make stupid jokes.
Alessia presses her lips together in a smirk, so she doesn't make a stupid joke at Illy
Lifting his bottle to his mouth for a longer swallow, Ilad arches his eyebrows, gleam of humor lingering in his dark gaze as it flicks across the table to meet Jean-Paul's, and then, as he sets his bottle back down on the surface of the table, exhales a low snorted breath past his nose. "They like money, I'd imagine."
The bright grin Nick flashes the bartender is shaded with just a hint of apology, easily explained by the list of drinks he rattles off, with a quick tilt of his head back towards the Titan booth for context. "Looks like you have half the town in tonight," he adds to the end of it.
"Much better to pay for something with experience," Kelsey notes. Seriously. She turns her empty glass idly on the table.
"Yeah. We're worth more in our patronage than in the trouble we cause," Leon suggests. He looks over to where Nick cut a path for the drinks, since his own is empty. Priorities, you know.
Alessia presses her lips together in a smirk, so she doesn't make a stupid joke at Illy's protest. "Ah'm sure we pay enough for them to put up with us fillin' up one of their booths an' gettin' a touch rowdy, now an' then." There's a playful elbow off to the guy at her side, a slow grin as she shakes an ice cube into her mouth to chew.
"Titan Enterprises: we make functional alcoholism look good," Jean-Paul agrees toward Leon. His tone is quite dry.
"Oh, it's not so bad," the bartender replies with easy, soldiering cheer. The efficient manner she has in filling and mixing drinks suggests that, despite being new to Chuck's, she's not new to the profession. She follows his glance to the group stuffed into the booth. "Looks like you got yourselves a sardine kind of situation," she says with a grin that brightens with humor as she slides over the first of the drinks. "You all from around here?"
Illyana winces, maybe thinking of a few of the jokes in her head, and going pink. "Experienced drinks. Exactly." She breathes a laugh. "Rowdy. It sounds /fun/ said like that..."
Ilad glances at his bottle, and arches his eyebrows again as he drinks. Setting the finally emptied thing down on the table, he rests his palm over its mouth. "Let me know if you are planning to start throwing punches."
"/Oh/," Kelsey says. Her lips curve into a grin that's somewhat sly as she looks over at her close-pressed Russian friend. "I didn't realize we were still talking about drinks." Drawing her gaze to Ilad, she says, "We expect a lot from our coworkers when we decide to start a barfight," she tells him soberly. Except for Nathaniel, who totally sucked in a barfight, but he was a mole so he doesn't count.
Xen simply watches the table and listens, working on his drink while Nick is off, securing the next round for the Titan table. The pilot is just a touch withdrawn as he sits there, though an eyebrow quirks in Illyana's direction, his lips twitching in the ghost of a smirk.
Alessia snickers. "Ah don't think Ah've ever been in a barfight with any of y'all. Ah feel cheated." The fact she's kidding is obvious from her tone.
The twitch of Ilad's mouth slow in its curve, the shake of his head is slight. He fails to comment on what may be expected from him in a bar fight.
Illyana goes redder. She hesitates a moment, and then covers some of her embarrassment teasingly elbowing Kelsey in the side. "I don't think I've ever been in a bar fight at all," she admits, and then glances quickly at the others, hoping for someone else who hasn't either.
Leon was distracted from watching Nick towards the jukebox, which changed it's tune to something that drew his attention. "Shit, classic country," Leon chuckles, but not loudly, "I wonder if they have--" and then turns partially to play-scowl at Alessia's elbowing. "What?" he grumps at her.
Nick laughs, layering easy cheer over an appraising glance over the bartender that is equal parts professional and generally interested. "A bit of one," he agrees. "And yeah, we're not too far off. Can't imagine you get too much tourist traffic up here, away from the coast."
Al slides Leon an innocent expression that she ruins quickly with a grin. "Nothin', why?" A flutter of her lashes to show him she's only goofing off.
Jean-Paul drifts quiet on the subject of bar fights for SOME REASON and starts picking at the label of his bottle. He looks between the others at the table, marking various elbowing. He looks blank.
How appraising, Nick? Enough to notice the wedding ring? (That's something single men check when appraising, right?) "I haven't been here that long, but nah, doesn't seem like we get much by the way of tourists," the bartender replies. "Work party?" she guesses after another discerning glance at the group of Titanites. She pushes another drink over. (Shit, how many is he picking up, anyways?)
Kelsey's grin grows bright and wide at the elbowing, which she accepts with good grace. "Hey," she says, a little defensive. "Terry just /bumped/ that girl; it's not our fault she wanted to start a fight over it."
"I do not imagine," Ilad says after a lengthy, considered pause, "that I would be much fun in a bar fight."
Leon reflects the innocent expression at Alessia, and shifts in on the booth bench a little in retaliation. Which will mush Al against Xen more, most certainly. "Ah, okay, so long as it wasn't anything," Leon answers cheerily at her.
Alessia looks at Ilad. "Be a bit like usin' a grenade when jus' a smoke bomb would do the job." That remark is made quietly, no bite or spite to it. A squeak from her when she's mushed against Xen a little more, looking at the pilot. "Hi there!"
Let's say yes. "Thank god it's Friday," Nick says by way of answer, with a quick glance over his shoulder towards the Titan table, perhaps to ensure there's not a riot in the offing. (You never know.) "You new to the area, or just to Chuck's?" He extracts his wallet from his pocket, riffling quickly through a thin collection of bills.
"Would make for a short fight, I believe," Xen adds to Ilad's statement, tipping up the last of his pint and drinking the amber liquid down. It's about mid-tip when a short redhead is suddenly mooshed against his side, and he lists dangerously towards Kelsey, but manages to halt the slide just at him. No game of booth dominoes. "Hi," is the pilot's response to Al, and then his blues look over at Leon, an eyebrow quirking upwards. You mind?
"It helps if you enjoy the process of barfighting," Kelsey says. She glances over in Nick's direction, her beer still /empty/, but it was a lot of drinks, after all.
"Ah think Leon was takin' the idea of me feelin' closer to ya a little too literally." Al says brightly to Xen, her expression giving away the joke of it all. "So... how you doin'?" Al's attempt at a New Yawker accent fails horribly, by the way.
Leon slid back again pretty quickly, lifts both palms innocently, and points at Alessia, brows up. Look, she did it. Seriously. See? ...yeah, right. He's well aware he's not fooling anyone, he's just doing that to mess with Alessia really. But she started it. Like little kids in a backseat.
"The area," the bartender replies with a sense of easy sharing. "My husband and I just moved out here a month ago." She slides the last of the drinks over to him, however many that necessitates. "I'm Laura, by the way," she introduces herself after she rattles off a total for him to pay. "Tanbourn."
"Does he need any help carrying?" Illyana sits up straight to see as far as Nick, and wiggles like she's considering just climbing over people to get out. Or maybe ducking under the table and going that way. Wouldn't that be exciting?
Ilad tips his head in Xen's direction, flicker of his glance brief toward Alessia beside him and then away, gaze angled toward the bar. He doesn't say anything much, though.
"Consider it a test of agility and coordination," Jean-Paul says heartlessly, and then gives up to shift to the side and let Illyana out. Fiiiine.
"He /did/ own a bar," Kelsey points out. "I'll bet he can carry like a billion glasses."
"Nick Evans," Nick replies. He slides over enough money to cover the drinks and a fairly generous tip to make up for the inconvenience of the order's size. (Six, we think, if two people opted out.) "Hope the town treats you both well." He gives Laura one last easy smile, then collects the drinks with a few moments' careful shuffling, and sets off back towards the table.
"Pleasure to meet you," Laura chirps brightly as she collects the money and ducks down to deposit it in the register after making sure that Nick has a handle on all the drinks.
Illyana murmurs thanks to Jean-Paul and meets Nick halfway, but hesitates, figuring that when carefully balanced, extracting a few to hand over is harder than just keeping them all. "You got them okay?"
Leon gets a very speculative and disbelieving look from Xen that lasts for all of a few seconds before Alessia does her best Joey Tribiani impression. His pint being placed onto the table, his hands slide to Al's shoulders to slide her back upright with a slight smirk, "I see someone's happy tonight."
Dropping into Illyana's seat, Jean-Paul scoots in next to Kelsey with a, "Hi," as he stalls slightly farther from her than Illy was smooshed. It's still a cozy distance for him. "We don't allow happiness," he says to Alessia, terribly serious.
Alessia laughs. "Ah've been in a good mood all week, flyboy. Ya musta missed the memo." She wrinkles her nose at JP. "Ah'm just a rebel."
"Yeah. I guess you even have your own flag." Painting a picture of Alessia as confederate floozy with the sketch of two fingers, Jean-Paul gives her half a faint smile.
"Lucky you," Ilad intones, extremes of dry infiltrating his low voice. He glances after Illyana toward Nick and those new beverages. Vital addition!
"Yeah, that interferes with the bar fight mentality," Leon admonishes Alessia and smirks at Jean-Paul, before looking up to the standing Nick, with the drinks so close at hand. Thirst builds over time when you have an empty cup to fiddle with.
"Hi," Kelsey replies cheerfully to her new seatmate. She does not try to invade his personal space bubble. Yet. She looks up to Nick's approach. "You hop across the pond for those?" she teases lightly. "We're dying here."
Nick gives Illyana a smile and a quick nod of thanks. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks." Without any comedic ill-timed ruckus from the rest of the bar, he gets the drinks situated on the table to be sent 'round to their owners. "Yeah," he replies to Kelsey. "Hitched a ride with this scrawny British guy in a weird blue box. He was /supposed/ to get me back five minutes ago, but--"
Al snorts at JP. "Wrong state, JP. L'siana's state flag has a big bird on it, not the rebel flag." She elbows Leon, a shake of her head. "It does not. Ah talk to the wrong guy in a friendly manner, his chick or fella could start a ruckus." Eyes dart at Ilad, studying for a second. "Yeah, lucky me." Ooh more drinks!
Expression a trifle blank at Alessia's correction, Jean-Paul then narrows his eyes. "No one actually uses that any more, do they?"
Now there are cultural references from two totally different foreign places flying over Ilad's head. He looks a bit blank, as he retrieves his bottle of beer and lifts it with a mild, "Thanks."
"Yeah, that's true. I've been able to start stuff that way pretty efficiently," Leon says, allowing Alessia's correction. Drink gets more of his attention, though. "Invites to dance, or somethin' is serious business," Leon comments, with a sigh. And elbows back. Belatedly.
Xen ahems at Alessia's elbow to Leon again, "Hey. You keep elbowing him, he's liable to snap. Jarheads are notoriously short-tempered. I don't think we need to start a barfight amongst ourselves tonight." RIGHT, JP?? There's a smirk on his lips, a playful tone to his voice. As the drinks are handed back out, he takes another pint, eyeing the cold beverage before taking another sip. The Doctor Who joke is completely lost on him.
Illyana sits down in Jean-Paul's old place, in trade. Hopefully they all still fit, with some of the space now being taken up with personal space! She has to lean across him to get the last of her drink, and she tips it back all at once. She takes a little time to pick up the thread of the conversation again.
"At least it ended up minutes and not years," Kelsey says to Nick with a widening grin that's a little delighted at the reference. "But I hope you had suitably exciting adventures." She leeeeans over the table to pick out her beer and pull it to her.
Al looks at JP. "Actually, it's part of Mississippi's flag, Old Dixie." A shrug, as if to say she can't be blamed for that! A giggle at Xen. "Leon? He'd never lose his temper with me." Fresh drink in hand, the redhead starts sipping away.
Ilad asks over his beer, "Why do you have individual flags if you are all the same country?"
"Very exciting," Nick confirms as he retakes his own seat - or at least a portion of it - and claims his drink. "Lots of running. --Why are we starting bar fights?" Apparently, he has missed something while getting drinks. This is sad.
"The South takes it a little more seriously than the North, Ilad," comes from Xen as he takes another sip. "Of course, maybe it's simply because they lost. Something about bring sore losers." He glances sideways at Alessia, his voice slightly teasing, the hint of a smile on his lips.
Kelsey starts in on her drink after another flash of smile, then turns her gaze on the Americans with genuine curiosity that follows Ilad's question. It's a good question. "I'm sure one of these Yanks ought to be able to explain it properly."
"Well, I might snap, but it won't be in anger," Leon says, playfully. "But then I'd take an elbowing, or worse, that I might REALLY deserve," Leon says, in a sad, sad, woe is me tone, flashing an obvious overdone flirty wink at Alessia.
"States had flags before we were one nation, so tradition from back before the revolutionary war?" Al suggests with a shrug. "Different states have different mottos an' license plates an' alla that." Xen gets a sharp poke in the ribs. "Don't be hatin'. It's rebel spirit that got this country to /be/ a country, remember." Leon gets a grin and a wink flashed his way in response.
"Wow." Jean-Paul swallows anything else he might say about the South with a mouthful of beer. Sympathy to those who might secede wars with OMG SLAVERY ... and loses. He shakes his head. /Mississippi/. He falls awful quiet in this part of the conversation.
Xen grunts slightly at the sharp poke in his ribs, setting his drink down on the table, "I'm not hating, I'm mocking." And then there's a slight grin, playful, "There's a difference." He then glances back at Kelsey and Ilad both, "It's about States' rights. A State's individual rights should supersede any federal rights imposed by a central government." He waves his hand, as if to move the conversation along before picking up his beer and taking a more considerable drink.
Ilad's brow wrinkles. He gives Xen a long look. He glances along the other faces at the table with his eyebrows climbing.
It's just as well JP doesn't bring up the slavery thing, since that's a fallacy. Al nods to what xen says, eyes distant as she perhaps goes back to some long forgotten history class. "We wanted to protect ourselves from ever becomin' another monarchy, basically."
Leon taps his fingers on his glass, sliding a look from Xen to Alessia and their interesting choice of bartalk. He's not interested in adding to that. "...we should do somethin' interesting on the fourth of july. Celebrate 'lack of monarchy' in style." It's coming up. It's relevant. And Leon likes to talk explosives.
Kelsey squints at Xen. "All right," she decides is an adequate response and takes another gulp of her beer. "We should have fireworks," she offers to Leon's suggestion. "I know you lot love setting off a shitton of those come July 4."
"We could arrange for some good explosives, I'm sure." Xen smirks slightly, taking another sip. Thank god for a new topic of conversation. "It's not like the cops can roll up and tell us not to lite them off. We have /acres/ of private fireworks territory."
Jean-Paul flicks another glance up and waits for this particular topic to turn to safer, non-terroristy ground. Fireworks! Hey! "We should just light things on fire."
"Fireworks and alcohol," Nick says, just a hint self-deprecating dry. He takes a pull from his beer, as though in vague illustration of the latter. "Always a winning combination."
"I like lighting things on fire," Ilad says, with a kind of understated smile on his lips.
JP's comment makes Al look at Ilad, surprise surprise. A giggle at what the Israeli says, as she sips at her glass. "Should do another cookout. Minus the water balloons."
"Do we need to have designated fireworks handlers?" Kelsey wonders aloud. "DFHs instead of DDs?"
Ilad says, "No."
Xen smirks, "I would say minus Brady dropping trou before ruling out water balloons." He glances over to Kelsey and grins slightly, "We're grown adults. I think."
"I don't think those two sentences go together," Ilad tells Xen with a faintly pained look crossing his expression.
"/I'm/ a grown adult," Kelsey says firmly. She is not so sure of other people at the table, perhaps.
"Electronic firings and synchronized shows are a great challenge," Leon says, sitting up some, interest obvious. "Maybe I can get a computer programmer to help me set up something really interestin'," Leon ponders. Demolitions guy's brain at work.
"/Programmer/?" Jean-Paul asks, with a baffled incredulity. "For lighting things on fire and blowing them up?" He does not appreciate.
"At least someone is," comes the comment from Xen. Another glance at Kelsey is given, a playful grin on his lips, "So, you'll chaperone then?"
Alessia bursts into giggles. "True, last thing we need is Harrison droppin' his drawers again." More alcohol consumed, enhancing her already good mood. "Beer, mixers, soda.. hmm." She frowns a bit.
Leon laughs briefly, and grins to Jean-Paul, "well, the difference between lots of randomly timed pops, and some really big ones or displays that'll make it look like daylight," Leon supplies.
It is apparently Nick's turn to fall quiet to listen rather than offering input. He settles against the back of the bench, sipping absently from his drink.
Ilad makes a derisive noise.
"That sounds like a lot of organization and less fun," Kelsey says.
"Maybe it is fun for him," Jean-Paul chides Kelsey.
Kelsey frowns. Skeptically.
Leon lifts a brow towards Kelsey, and then pauses, and shrugs, smiling, to Jean-Paul. "....well, yeah, he's right. I've set off enough in the past, to like a new challenge." He sits back, with his drink, smirk mild. "...Also, a bunch of people melting their faces off 'cuz they don't know what they're doing with them doesn't really appeal." The smirk is gone. Melting faces isn't all that funny to him, for whatever reason.
"That's what Kendra and Alden are for," Jean-Paul mutters low, totally subtle about the townies.
"An' programmin' it ya can make all kindsa designs an' pictures with the bursts, right?" Al keeps her voice cheery, her tone light as she looks at Leon.
Leon looks at Jean-Paul, but quietly answers Alessia, "Yeah, that's usually more common with like, really expensive shows or ones at theme parks. They do them to music, or whatever."
Kelsey elbows Jean-Paul without looking at him. Affectionately. And drinks her beer.
"I wouldn't think designs would be /especially/ difficult." Ilad shapes an idle pattern in the air with his fingertips, before lifting his bottle for a longer swallow. "Fire has its own native beauty in any event."
"I think that maybe just a show will be fine. If people really want to go see a production, they can head to the Golden Gate Park. Watch San Francisco's show from there," Xen adds, taking another sip of his drink. At Ilad's own comments, Xen simply tips his head in the Israeli's direction, acknowledging his words.
"Mostly is in how the explosive itself is made, how much of delay on each of the fuses," Leon supplies, but shrugs and smiles smoothly, "But yeah, don't need those to still have a fun show," Leon agrees with Xen. "I wouldn't waste my time with it if nobody cared either way anyway."
Jean-Paul slants a curious look at Ilad, gaze only briefly lingering before he looks at Leon. Smile faint, he says, "Who doesn't like shiny explosions?"
Kelsey cants her head as she listens to Ilad, almost asking something -- but there are townies about, after all, and she just smiles. "I'm sure we can explore all the methods of celebration we have at hand," she says simply.
"Oh, so this is research?" Al says with a teasing tone in response to Kelsey's statement of exploring options for celebrating.
"Starting with alcohol, ending in fire." Jean-Paul flicks his eyes upwards in a prayer.
Who doesn't like shiny explosions? "Small animals. My buddy once accidentally scared the holy shit out of his little dog," Leon remarks, in mixed amusement. "Little rat dog was already warped to begin with."
"Is it strange for you," Ilad asks, glancing across the table toward Kelsey and Jean-Paul, "to celebrate American independence? Or is this one of those things where, any excuse for booze and flames?"
Kelsey's smile grows particularly wry. "It is a -- complicated thing," she says. "It's not like my people didn't try for it plenty themselves over the centuries. Then again, I am a citizen of the United Kingdom." She weighs hands. "On the /other/ other hand, there is drink and flames."
Jean-Paul answers Ilad with a slightly sharp wryness. He says, "American citizen," with a splay of fingers over his heart.
Nick starts and straightens as his phone jangles in his pocket. He draws it out with a slight frown for the identification shown on the faceplate, then stands with a vague, "I should take this," of apology before heading for the door and the relative quiet of the parking lot.
Since Xen is of the born American citizen type, he doesn't answer Ilad's query, but merely sips his drink and listens as both Jean-Paul and Kelsey weigh in.
Leon would also be of the native category, and distractedly, for no reason, elbows Alessia.
"Oh," Ilad says. Narrowing of his gaze slight, he tips his head, subjecting Jean-Paul to a moment's extended study, and then he glances at Kelsey with a twitch of humor at his mouth. "We have got our own independence day," he says. "It was a few months ago."
A low murmur under his breath, Jean-Paul says something that sounds like, "We don't," or maybe something else entirely. Possibly about beer. He looks at his bottle, now empty, and at Illyana who has boxed him. He nudges her out with a kick of his foot and says, "Anyone for more?"
Alessia swats Leon, a frown that carries no real menace. "It's in May, isn't it? Sixty somethin' years, now?" This to Ilad, before she's glancing at JP, a blink before she's fishing out cash to offer him. "Ah'll just have a coke, if ya please. But Ah said Ah'd get this round."
"You can come pay, then," Jean-Paul says, beckoning Alessia and her credit onward.
Humor abruptly brighter in his voice, Ilad says blithely: "Like all other Jewish holidays, it moves around." He glances at his beer, and takes an even longer swallow of it. "Get me one more," he says, totally politely.
"We've got St. Andrew's Day in Scotland," Kelsey says as her fingers slide over the condensation collecting on her glass, "but it's not really the same. Not an independence day. Obviously." Because Scotland is, uh. Not independent. She eyes her glass, which still has some beer remaining, but ohwell. "I'll take another."
Leon realizes he has to move, or Alessia will have to climb over him, and so he grudgingly gets up out of the way to let her out. "One more, yeah."
"I'll--" Xen looks at his pint, nearly empty, before looking back to Jean-Paul and Alessia, "I suppose I can have one more."
Nodding particularly toward Kelsey, Jean-Paul hauls Alessia up to the bar with him. He does not make conversation with the nice bartender. He just orders.
Alessia slips on out and pops up on her feet. FREEDOM! She glances around at their group, before she's being hauled up to the bar by JP. Sheesh.
Speedsters. What jerks. Jean-Paul prioritizes his beer.
Leon is standing anyway, and wanders to the jukebox to poke at it's selection.
Fine. Laura won't make conversation with JP, then. Jerk.
Does that leave Kelsey and Ilad alone at the table, then?
Hey bb.
Don't forget Xen.
Where'd Xen go?
Oh.
I thought he got up.
N/M.
wtg
Xen's been next to Kelsey all this time. She's not in a Xen/Ilad sandwich.
I bet that makes her sad.
It does.
I think this descent into meta indicates it is time to wrap the scene.
WHAT GAVE YOU THAT IDEA?
Noooo.
"It was April 18th this year," Ilad says blandly, looking upward toward the ceiling. "I celebrated by -- joining Titan. Hurrah."
Oh, maybe we're not done.
Yes we are.
Dude I just dropped a totally important character note into this scene so shut up and RP with me.
Eventually, Jean-Paul and Alessia returns with beers, but the former has pulled withdrawn and quiet. ARE YOU HAPPY? I AM POSING INSTEAD OF POSING OUT.
YES I AM FULL OF JOY.
Xen tips the last of his glass to Ilad, "Congratulations."
The person interested in that factoid comes back with beers and her non-beer. "April 18th? Seems kinda odd, to have it movin'."
Eyebrows sweeping upwards as she works on finishing off her current beer to make room for her new one, Kelsey watches Ilad. "Not much of a celebration," she notes. "I mean. Nothing against our job, but--"
"We do not follow the same calendar as the goyim," Ilad says, with a waggle of his new bottle. He takes a much longer pull to start this one off, drowning some thought or other in a significant swallow of beer. "It's lunar. No," he says, "no, not so celebratory, hm?" His gaze lifts from the mouth of his bottle, marking Kelsey, sliding past; it catches on Jean-Paul for a long moment, in his newfound muting.
Xen finishes his beer and pulls the new one back to him, letting it sit on the table, hand loosely curled around the pint, "What do you usually do to celebrate?"
"Positively pagan," Jean-Paul labels Ilad and, by extension, all Jews. His manner is bland as he pushes past the brief quiet.
Alessia takes a long look at Ilad, before she shrugs. "Ah mean, Ah knew the religion did, but Ah guess it makes sense to have the country follow that an' all." Eyes sharply shift to JP, when he's declaring it Pagan.
"Do you lot up North have some sort of day when you celebrate casting off the glorious British Empire?" Kelsey asks Jean-Paul with the small quirk of a grin, glossing past talk of religion to stick to celebrations that might involve fireworks.
"I believe that you Christians, too, number yourselves among the children of Israel," Ilad says, the mouth of his bottle set against his lower lip over the slow curve of his smile. His eyes glint, and then he lifts a shoulder in a partial shrug. "Eating, drinking, merrymaking, big bonfires -- it is not so different from what I have seen here, on the Fourth."
"Mmmneh," Jean-Paul says dismissively to Kelsey, while focusing more fully on Ilad. He shrugs an acknowledgment. "People will take any excuse," he says.
"The first of July, for Canada, isn't it? Canada day, or somethin' like that? " Al asks JP, sipping at her drink.
Kelsey watches Jean-Paul with a brief, curious gaze, then turns it upon the rest of the table to pick back up the thread of conversation she abandoned. "If you let them, I'm pretty sure people would spend every day lighting fires and drinking alcohol."
"Well -- yes," Ilad says. He takes another long slug of beer, and licks his lips as he thunks his bottle back down.
"Haven't changed much from when we all hid in caves and made stone spears," Xen adds, taking another sip of his drink. Mmmm.. the third beer is going down much more easily than the previous two.
"And very originally named, too," Jean-Paul answers Alessia, before pointing his bottle at Xen. "Very true."
"Hey, Alessia," Leon calls from his inspection of the jukebox. Should she look, she'll get a wave over, and an evil smile.
"Hmm?" When Leon is calling her name, brows arch up with her look over. A quick swallow of her drink, before it's set down and Al is sliding out of the booth to see what he wants.
"Canada Day," Ilad says, lifting one hand, and then lifting the other, "Independence Day." He does not appear to be granting either many points for creativity.
"Well, the Americans named theirs 'Independence Day.' Not very original either." Kelsey sips her beer. "Or they just call it the Fourth of July, which is even worse."
"I think they wanted to name it 'We chased the Brits back to their own country' Day," Xen smirks, taking another sip from his glass. "But it doesn't roll off the tongue so easily."
"Gotta piss." Jean-Paul may be lying. But it sure makes an easy out from the conversation, and from the scene. He leaves his bottle behind, and takes his time returning with a detour elsewhere in the bar.
Ilad slants a look after Jean-Paul as he leaves, and then returns his attention to the assembled, sipping more conservatively from the remains of his beer.
Apparently from the sound, Leon has set up something... well, country, from the classic country jukebox. "Dance a song or two," Leon invites Alessia hopefully. "Or does the two-step bore ya, after all that other fancy dancin'?"
"Thanks for the announcement," Kelsey replies to Jean-Paul. (ilu.) She looks back to the others, now back down to Ilad and Xen. Who are not sandwiching her. (How sad.) "It keeps ending up the three of us," she observes.
"Waltz is not fancy dancin'. An' ya are due lesson. " Al retorts, a snort as her chin lifts. "Ya think Ah can't two step?"
"Maybe we're the cool kids." Xen glances over at Leon and Alessia, his eyes then roaming around the bar briefly before returning to Kelsey and Ilad with a slightly wry grin.
"Well, I'm actually not TERRIBlE at this type, so I figure I can redeem myself a bit?" Leon suggests, with an easy laugh, relaxing, and waggling a hand at her.
Ilad cocks an eyebrow, but all he says is a dry: "Perhaps."
"Or we're the /un/cool kids," Kelsey counters sadly, "whom the cool kids have abandoned."
Alessia moves to take leon's arm, a defiant expression on her face, even as her eyes gleam with amusement, to lead him through a two-step in a small area cleared of tables.
Xen nods, "Quite possible, too." He doesn't seem too bothered by the idea, all told, as he finished off his third beer, much faster than the first two. He looks at his empty glass for a minute, contemplating a fourth, but then pushes the pint to join its two brothers on the table.
"I do not feel especially concerned," Ilad confides, tapping his thumb against the neck of his beer bottle.
Leon fights her leading, of course, which could be either fun, or a mess. "Gonna lead us right into a table," he teases her, merciless.
Alessia snorts. "Who's the dancer here, pal?" She pokes him in the side, but lets him lead. "Ah'm just used to leadin' because Ah have to when Ah teach."
Kelsey's smile slides wider. "I don't think we have much cause for concern, no." She glances over at Leon and Alessia, shakes her head, and looks back.
No problem once Leon's leading; habit was driving it more than an attempt to fight her on purpose. "Oh, certainly you can have the Superior Dancer title. I wasn't arguin' that. Doesn't mean you always gotta be in control, though, does it?" Leon smiles. He's teasing, but there's no nastiness or crudeness here. The alcohol smoothed Leon out.
Xen remains seated at the booth with both of his companions as the bar noise continues around them, unabated. His gaze follows Kelsey's to watch both Leon and Alessia for just a minute before returning to the booth. After glancing at his trio of empty bottles, he looks at Kelsey and Ilad, "Either of you want another round?"
"I think," Ilad muses, with a surveying glance given the bar, rubbing his knuckles along the curve of his jaw, "that we have neglected to bring along a designated driver."
"Better me in control than you. Ya might fall on me an' crush me, remember?" Al teases him, until that song ends. "There, got me to dance in public, in front of people we work with. Ah am goin' back to my soda."
"Um." Kelsey squints at Jean-Paul's glass. "How much has Jean-Paul had? He never drinks much because he's such a lightweight. Then again, he's a lightweight." She taps the side of her glass. "Uh. There are always cabs."
"Hey, I still have my other beer," Leon says, happily, no issue with going back to the table. "And yep, I did. Success. Honestly it was just a shame NOT to dance to that," Leon says brightly, waiting for Alessia to slide into the booth before he'll trap her again.
"Poor Jean-Paul," Ilad reproves, with the light knock of a knuckle against his bottle, where body meets neck. "Impugned in his absence."
"Which is probably what I will be taking. I don't feel off, but--" Xen gestures with his hand in a so-so manner. "I haven't stood up yet. I'm sure I will find out rather quickly." As both Alessia and Leon head back to the booth, the pilot holds up a hand, forestalling them, "Hold on. I'm getting out for a minute." And he does so, sliding to the end and standing up and heading over to the bar, grabbing himself a water.
"Does it count as impugning if it's true?" Kelsey asks innocently, though humor still quirks at the corners of her mouth. She lifts her gaze as Xen stands with a quirk smile and a nod, then looks back to Ilad. "And then there were two," she says. Very seriously.
Alessia slides into the booth when Xen is clear, reaching for her soda as she frowns. "Everythin' all right?" Curious since she heard Xen say he didn't feel off." "
Smile very briefly shadowing his lips, Ilad says, "Apparently not," although if this is in response to Alessia's question, his tone is rather strange.
Leon plops back down to enjoy his drink, and doesn't ask about the conversation going on. Either he'll pick it up, or he'll stick to the drink; either way is fine.
"Or not," Kelsey says, smile twitching once more as the crowd reforms at the table. She takes another sip of her beer. "Everything's all right as far as I can tell."
Alessia picks up her soda to drink from it again. "Well, whenever y'all are ready, lemme know."
"I think," Ilad determines after a pause, unfolding from the booth -- wherever he is, since I never established this -- "that I am ready to get some air. Excuse me."
"That actually sounds really good," Kelsey says, perking at Ilad's words. But before it can seem too much like trailing behind him, she says, "Don't worry. I'll find my fresh air away from your fresh air." Quirking a grin and sliding out of the booth, she doesn't quite follow him, but she ends up outside.
Friday night. Party time.