(Untitled)

[theflyingsquirl]

[OOM: Squirrel tries to sort out his thoughts in the aftermath of the attack on Coreen, but the day is saved by his Golden Age self.]So it is that the Flying Squirrel who returns to the bar from the outside door is about a hundred and fifty pounds lighter, a lot more Texan, normal non-mutant human as far as anyone can see, and dressed in his USAAF

Comments

[coreenfennel]

Coreen's still a little on the paler side of her color spectrum, but doing a little better. The slight ringing in her ears is gone, thankfully.

She hurries downstairs, going to nab a quick plate of spaghetti and garlic bread, when she sort of stops and blinks.

She's either hallucinating, or she's meeting another Squirrel.

"Uh, Joe?"

[theflyingsquirl]

He had taken a seat at the bar, but hurriedly stands again.

"Miss Coreen," he says, smile a little nervous. It's so different seeing her in person.

[coreenfennel]

She offers her hand, "Just Coreen. No need to stand on ceremony. We're...uh, practically family."

Is that weird?

She tugs her hair over her neck a little more.

[theflyingsquirl]

"But I like to," he says.

Weird? With these two? Never.

"Would you care to join me for a drink? I always told myself that when I got back home the first thing I'd do is go to a bar and have some good bourbon, and... it may not be home, but here is close enough."