Wednesdays are the Worst
Roleplaying Log: Wednesdays are the Worst
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

On the way home from work, Helena has an unexpected run-in with two very different Gotham denizens.

Other Characters Referenced: Black Canary
IC Date: May 08, 2019
IC Location: Gotham
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 12 May 2019 08:19
Rating & Warnings: Warning: Helena cusses.
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

Springtime sucks. The weather is getting nicer, but it's fickle and goes from almost-sleeting to super bright and sunny and super distracting to students from one day to the next. After a particularly distracted day at work, Helena was hoping to get home and have some time to go out and punch dirtbags in the face for a while. But NO. She got pulled into a staff meeting that ran stupidly late. So now she's hurrying home with lame takeout for dinner and by the time she finishes the day's grading she won't have time to punch any dirtbags and still get maybe four hours of sleep.

This sucks.

She's walking hurriedly down the sidewalk, wanting to get home before some moron tries to mug her for $10 worth of too-greasy lo mein.

* * *

The bar simply known as Joe's probably had something more professional and maybe even fancy for a name, save that whatever it was, most of the letters had long since gone missing from the sign and what were left were broken and worn, leaving even less possibility for a decent guess at it. It's the sort of place that sees most of its business from locals, and it's a fact more than obvious for the unfamiliar who decide to stop in. Sometimes that's fine, a guy just wants a drink. Fine. Sling back a few, pay up and leave.

Other times…

Well, to be fair, this particular time seems to be an unusual one indeed.

"Flarkin'— okay, okay! Fine! I'm leaving!" comes a loud growl of a shout in protest just as a smallish figure half scampers, half stumbles out of the establishment, just ahead of the bristles of an old broom. "Yer beer tastes like Zerglafian piss anyway!"

Although clothed in some sort of fitted, tactical jumpsuit, the figure wearing it is very much non-human. Bushy striped tail slightly puffed out in emphasis of his irritation, the gray-brown fur and the black fur masking his eyes, his species certainly wouldn't be difficult to mistake by Terran standards.

* * *

Right after him is Kitty Pryde. "Rocket! You can't keep asking people if you can buy things off of them. I don't care about credit!"

The clothed raccoon is out the door and she is following him. This is not how she wanted this evening to go! Quickly putting down her half filled pint glass on a table as she quickly sets it down and pays for herself and Rocket. Then, she's outside just in time to see someone try to grab a bag out of a woman's hands practically right in front of her. With a finger up to Rocket to tell him that their feud with the bar has to wait just a second, she moves toward the mugger and attempts to grab at him.

While still someone who wants to do the right thing? Kitty has been out with Rocket….that means she's a few drinks in. "Stop!" She says, trying to be convincing. "You right there! That's not legal!"

* * *

Just short of this skeezy bar someone does indeed try to mug Helena for her lo mein. She yelps and recoils from the mugger in surprise, causing the takeout bag to rip. She recovers quickly enough and by the time there's someone yelling nearby, she's starting to throw a punch in a manner that might seem a bit atypical for the average civilian.

Somewhere, this woman learned how to throw a punch.

"Fuck off," she all but snarls at the mugger. If her food ends up on the ground…

* * *

"What! I was trying to be nice about it! You don't want me'ta shoot 'em and take stuff, you don't want me asking- what's left?!" Rocket huffs, scowling at the woman trailing him outside.

If Kitty's had a few drinks, Rocket's certainly had at least enough to match. At least. Which is why when Kitty's attention is diverted, he follows easily with the distraction. And goes one step further, with something of a snort-laugh as he pulls out one of his over-modded and decidedly non-Terran standard pistols. For one thing it's bright red and looks more like a Nerf gun for its bulkiness.

The only reason he doesn't instantly pull the trigger is because the supposed target of the mugging has decided to fight back. Rocket blinks, but then as though not to be shown up by Helena, he readjusts his aim towards the would-be thief. "You'eard her…! Scram before I sneeze an' accidentally pull this trigger here!"

* * *

"Your asking for it was, 'You don't want me to shoot you with this customized and highly deadly gun, do you?' That's not asking! That's a threat!" Pause. "Wait. I'm not sure you understand the difference. Rocket, is the problem you don't understand the difference between threats and asking?" This may actually be a break through.

Then, the attention is passed. There is a mugging happening and she would like to stop it! Even if she is a few drinks in. Then, though, the mugging victim tosses a punch. Blinking, she reaches forward to grab the container within, but it hits against her hand and then drops onto the ground.

* * *

The mugger is generally larger than the woman he's accosting, so he seems bent on getting the bag of food to the point of dodging the thrown punch passably enough. Right up until little Miss Buttinski and her shouty midget friend in the fur suit fuck everything up and the food ends up on the ground. He starts cursing them all in some Eastern European language and shoves Helena roughly.

For her part, Helena was doing JUST FINE, thankyouverymuch, but then a damned supposedly good samaritan gets in the way and knocks the food to the sidewalk. "SHIT. Now I—" She gets shoved and falls on her backside with an 'oof!' but even so kicks at the mugger's knee while trying to scramble back to her feet. If this damaged her work laptop in the bag that used to be slung over her shoulder and is now also on the sidewalk, she will be SERIOUSLY pissed off.

"Back off, dumba…" NOW she catches sight of Rocket. "Holy SHIT!" and she's scrambling back away from everyone, mugger, Kitty, and especially Rocket.

* * *

"There's a difference?"

It's honestly hard to tell just how buzzed he is, but it's a safe bet that he's not hopelessly drunk since he hasn't broken down crying at least. Things happen. He takes a bit of a wobbly step and as the mugger makes a run for it he actually does fire, meaning for it to be a warning shot. It just about suffices, narrowly missing the man whom Helena's kick might've just inadvertently saved him actually getting hit in the foot by the shot.

The glowing bolt (nope, that is definitely not a bullet) instead hits the hapless container of noodles, leaving a charred mess and the scent of burning.

"Oh. Uh. Whoops-" he starts to say, but the woman starts freaking out, loudly at that. "Oh yeah, you're real welcome lady!"

* * *

Everything is totally fine! However Kitty can't help herself. She needs to help, even while drunk. And that's why she attempts to save the Chinese food. But, with the alcohol, that is also while she fumbles it.

"Shit! Or Shoot! Or sorry!" Whichever one works. "No! Sorry! I was trying to help! I'm usually really good at this I swear!" The person who accosted Helena shoves and her first instinct is to help Helena and not to chase down the mugger. Reaching out to try and help her up, but Helena is already doing that on her own.

Then, she's yelling about Rocket? Maybe? "Woah! Wait! What's up, lady? All's good! You're okay! We're just here to help. We're just both a little drunk. I'm sorry I knocked your food on the ground!" She doesn't even think this has anything to do with Rocket.

* * *

Helena gets back to her feet completely gracelessly with her bag in one hand while she stares in wide-eyed shock at the TALKING RACCOON. If it's any consolation, she's forgotten about the spilled food?

"What the… but, but…" she gestures toward Rocket a bit helplessly as if Kitty is not yet aware of Rocket's presence. She backs up until she's pressed against the building wall and having that solidity behind her back helps her get a grip.

"Okay, fuck, get it together," she breathes to herself. "Okay, um, sorry, I'm okay. Really. I've seen weirder. I've seen weirder."

No, she really hasn't, and that's obvious.

* * *

Rocket glances after the mugger, thumbing back at him. "Hey, should someone…" Looking back at the two women, he frowns. Yeah. Never mind. His nose wrinkles as he eyes Helena who has apparently run out of room to retreat.

Shoving his pistol back into its holster, he sniffs as he tugs his jacket closed, although it doesn't really do too much to hide the fact that he has not one, but two deadly space guns at his belt. "Weirder?" he snarls. "You try watchin' yourself from this angle crab-walkin' like you're trying to go through a wall."

* * *

For Kitty's part, she's forgotten that Rocket may be something that others may see as something unusual.

"We come in peace? And we might have also come with alcohol, but we drank it all." Kitty truly is the diplomat of the times. And then she looks to Rocket and then back to Huntress. "I mean, what is weird, honestly? I can walk through walls, that is pretty weird, right? But I look normal, so maybe that's not quite as startling at first. We're all just, you know, weird beings in this galaxy! Trying to help each other!"

Pause. "What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry I made you drop your take out onto the sidewalk. We can buy you a drink to make it up to you. Also, I should possibly have chased after that guy that tried to mug you, but I didn't. Are you okay?"

Maybe Kitty has had a little bit more than just a bit to drink.

* * *

Helena looks from Kitty to Rocket, back and forth a few times. Honestly, the woman seems strangely okay with the talking raccoon, so maybe it's actually okay? She stares at Rocket for a few seconds more before finally getting back to her feet and wiping her hands off on her trousers.

"Okay, I'm fine. I… wait, what?" She looks at the blaster-burnt smear that used to be her dinner and sighs. "Aw, damnit." So much for eating anything tonight, her fridge is barren of anything non-condiment. "So, um, weird beings. Got it. Thanks, I think." After all, it was equally likely that her food would have been on the ground if they hadn't stepped in to help. "And, I'll have to pass on getting a drink. I have work in the morning."

* * *

While Kitty works on smoothing things over with the local, Rocket rolls his eyes before wandering closer. He folds his arms and gives Helena a look over but aside from being frazzled she doesn't look like she'd gotten hurt. As Kitty's assurances sink in, he shrugs. "Yeah, whatever. What she said."

Wait, what? Even get her a drink? He's about to point out that they just got kicked out of the last bar and who's to say the lady would like to walk anywhere further for a drink with them? It doesn't seem like he's terribly guilty about having turned her dinner into a smoldering mess on the ground, although to be fair it was as good as ruined the moment it had fallen.

As Helena once again calls them 'weird' beings the raccoonoid still looks highly offended, brow furrowing, but it seems they're at least saved the trouble of making it up to her with a drink.

* * *

"Work, of course! Wait, what day is it?" Kitty looks to Rocket. She used to know things like this. However, her internal clock has been off basically since she joined the Guardians. "Tuesday?" That sounds right. That would definitely mean work in the morning for quite a lot of people.

"Good, I'm glad you're okay! I'm…sorry. We're generally less…" she was about to say shoot first ask questions later, but then she looks to Rocket and recalibrates, "Well, we generally catch the food. Sometimes. We try!"

Giving Huntress finger guns, like she's seen Quill do in awkward times such as these, she tries to give a reassuring smile. "Guardians of the Galaxy at your service." Okay, Kitty should not be in charge of PR when she's been drinking. Nor should she ever take queues from Quill. "Have a good night?" Was that a question?

* * *

"Wednesday," Helena offers a bit weakly. "And, uh, sure. Thanks. You two be safe out here." She sidles a bit to get a clear line of egress past Rocket, and then starts walking away as briskly as she can without making it look like she's fleeing.

She's failing miserably.

"Jesus fuck," she says to herself as she shoulders her bag again. "Honda's never gonna believe this."

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