Ladies' Night @ Luke's Bar
Roleplaying Log: Ladies' Night @ Luke's Bar
IC Details

Luke's Bar hosts a Ladies' Night for charity. It has everything: costumes, guyliner, pop stars past and present, girls being pulled out of cakes, dancing goats, nachos.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: December 11, 2018
IC Location: Luke's Bar
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 12 Dec 2018 14:05
Rating & Warnings: R for scantily clad people, swearing and cake desecration.
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits: Trish Walker, Toothbender
Associated Plots


It started with an innocent wager on a slow night. Owen eyeing the jar of picked eggs and bullshitting Luke that he could fit the last seven in the jar into his mouth at once. Considering their only customers were a few regulars who were nearly asleep at the bar Luke was glad to call his bartender's bluff. At exactly three and a half eggs, it all went wrong. The $5 wager wasn't ever paid, oh no it was rolled into a double or nothing on the next bet. Then somewhere along the way money gave way to a particular item of clothing the loser must wear for one special occasion. And thus began the saga of Ladies' Night at Luke's bar…

Owen texts Luke a photo of the entire ensemble. » Boom! Classy. Heroic.
Luke texts » Guys are dressed as heroes for this. It's for charity bozo.
Owen texts » Scared you can't rock this?
Luke texts » You are an idiot. The theme is heroes.
Owen texts » Duh. It's a stripper outfit. The greatest and most noble heroes of our time.
Luke texts » You're going to lose anyway. It's on.

*That's right y'all it's a montage. Are you ready?!*
Owen trying to join the Rockettes in the Thanksgiving Day parade, getting high kicked in the face and shoved in the gutter before being trampled by Elmo's handlers. Luke stands over him laughing, and instead of helping him up, hands him a mesh cutoff shirt.

Owen racing down the steps of the Empire State building at super speed trying to beat the elevator, getting about half way, running out of speed and rolling down into a heap. Luke stands over him laughing, and instead of helping him up, hands him a pair of jean cutoff shorts.


At least one includes Owen dressed in a T-Rex costume. Another has Owen dressed like one of the Beastie Boys from the Sabotage music video.

Owen spreading out four slips of paper at the end of the night with phone numbers on them from ladies at the bar. Luke, who hasn't even bothered trying, checks his pocket and pulls out seven. Owen begins cussing a fresh, as Luke pulls from behind the bar a pair of cowboy boots.

Owen texts Harley later a photo of his ass in the tiny jean shorts » Two questions: 1) Do you have a bedazzler? 2) Got any plans Tuesday night?

The bar is decorated sparsely for Christmas, a little mistletoe over the bell at the door, a few fake candles in the windows and a wreath over the mirror behind the bar. There is however a few other decorations, of an altogether different source. A large banner has been printed that hangs behind the bar that reads "Luke's 1st Annual Ladies Night for Charity" with something that looks altogether like a silhouette of Owen in said outfit. Owen himself is dressed, in full bet losing regalia, behind the bar. His green eyes are nicely set off by a thick line of guy liner, that looks like it was applied with a shaky hand … in the dark. A black mesh shirt is cut-off at his midriff, leaving his stomach and lower back bare. His lower back however is not entirely unadorned, arching from cheek to cheek in 3 inch high gothic script is BOOMERANG. This tiny jean shorts have apparently been attacked by a Bedazzler. His boots are not his normal motorcycle boots, oh no, they've gone country: traditional western style cowboy boots grace his feet. And many men might be ashamed or at least abashed in such an outfit, particularly as the result of losing many… many bets. But Owen? Well, he appears to be in high spirits, laughing with patrons and pouring drinks while flirting with the honored guests of the night, either unaware or unconcerned by the fact that he looks like he belongs behind the bar of a completely different place.

* * *

Luke is behind the bar, an amicable grin wide on his face. That's about the only normal thing he's wearing tonight as per the theme he's donned 'hero' attire. He has on fireman's turnout pants, the fire retardant tan pants with reflective stripes are held up by a pair of thick canvas suspenders strapped over bare shoulders leaving his broad, dark chest exposed. The outfit is complete with a helmet sans face shield, authentic so it must be borrowed form a local station.

Currently, Luke's fixing up a tray of some electric blue colored shots, the silver shaker diminutive in his large hand as he chills the liquor over ice and then strains it out into the waiting glasses. "Did I forget to tell you I hired a professional photographer to take pictures for social media?" He asks aside to Owen without glancing in that direction (out of elated guilt). "Must've slipped my mind."

* * *

Frank Castle would not be here if he knew it was Ladies' Night. Or any sort of party. No, subterfuge — or rather outright lying — was required to get him here. The text from Owen explaining that the speedster needed backup at Luke's was unexpected, but not particularly suspicious. Frank should have been suspicious about the follow-up text, about the dress code. There's no explanation, but sometimes no explanation from Owen Mercer is better than any explanation from Owen Mercer.

And so Frank Castle arrives at the back door of Luke's in a black leather jacket, white undershirt, jeans, and combat boots, pulling off his black watch cap as he slips inside. The buzz and swell of crowd noise is a clear indication that not all is as he was informed. "Mercer…" he snarls in warning, even if that worthy is shaking his tailfeathers alongside stripper-Luke behind the bar. The suggested dress code doesn't quite match the theme for the night, but no doubt Owen has a plan to fix that.

* * *

There was, of course, little doubt one Jessica Jones would be here. One, to support Luke and his bar. Two, because Luke has been keeping this entire affair with Owen, as well as his own outfit of the night, a carefully guarded state secret that not even her A+ snooping was capable of bringing out. Three, she is, with her camera skills, the back-up photographer if the pro doesn't show up.

Now she's sitting at said bar, occasionally staring wistfully at electric blue shots while she drinks what amounts to a glorified fruit juice. It's the first time she's been tempted in awhile, but there it is.

But…two distractions, right behind the bar. With her normal dry, caustic wit and refusal to handle anyone with kid gloves, she spins on her stool a little and says dryly, "I really feel like I should have brought some dollar bills for you two."

She is dressed in regular, ratty jeans, and a Luke's Bar black and white t-shirt with sports lettering on the back. It reads 'SECRETLY DECENT.' At this point, she's been referred to by The Hated Name in front of God and everybody. What's a little commentary on her squishy heart gonna do?

And then there's Frank, already looking cranky. She just salutes him with her fruit juice, amused. She also thinks Owen probably has a plan, and she thinks it's probably going to be hilarious. So. Score.

* * *

Luke's bar is still an awkward and uncomfortable place for Danielle Moonstar, BUT -

BUT, because there has to be one, exceptions can and MUST be made.

Especially when it comes to Owen embarrassing himself. Or potentially embarrassing himself. Oh, let's face, Dani is just here to take blackmail pictures of some sort.

That's it.

And maybe she needs a night away from responsibilities and the harshness of the 'real world'. Either way, the Cheyenne woman makes her way unobtrusively into the bar, dressed in relatively normal clothing. A jewel bright blue sweater, black jeans and boots. A light jacket is tossed over an arm and as she enters her gaze automatically seeks out familiar faces and figures.

Whether it be patrons, staff, or friends and family or OWEN.

And that's how Dani ends up near the bar, her brown eyes settled on Owen's rather spectacular outfit, and Luke's too. A nod is given to both men, "Gentlemen." Amusement crinkles the corners of Moonstar's eyes, even as she settles at the bar near Jess, "Evening."

* * *


"Hmm, no, I'm not certain this will do. For one, the coat does not fit you at all.. Also, you keep eating the hats. I have only two left."

Indeed, Toothbender is munching on a hat as the Girl of Thunder scratches her head and tugs at the trench coat that took no small amount of effort to get on the onary goat. Of course, that all goes wrong the moment the goat gets up, splitting the garment in two. And then, all out of hats, he begins eating that as well.

"Well then. It looks as if I shall have to attend this function alone. I'm sorry my friend, but you know how ridiculous humans can be sometimes. I'm not sure what made this particular place turn on all of goat kind, but I assure you I'll sort it out in due time. Now, simply wait here until I return. And also," she intones, turning conspiratorial as she leans in to the goat. "keep an eye out for firebirds." And with that, Atli leaps from the top of Stark Tower, leaving her friend who is SO UNJUSTLY BANNED from Luke's Bar behind.


Flip-flops hit the pavement at a rather brisk clip, a sore replacement for lost boots but better than absorbing the grime of New York City through her feet. Taking a moment look up at the new face of Luke's bar, her brows lift in some mild skepticism, but she had gotten the word that this was the place. That this is where all the greatest heroes of the world would gather and give charity, and who would represent the Ten Realms if not for her? She's wearing all of her usual garb, minus her boots of course, and takes care to straighten her vester and cloak before she steps inside with wide eyes and a merry smile, for this is her in her natural element: Untold Revelry.

One can only hope the NYPD does not show up and ruin everything, this time.

* * *


Owen from behind the bar calls out, laughing through the name as he pours some more beers. He throws an aside to Luke, "The cavalry arrived.." And with that he makes room for Frank to make his way behind the bar. Granted he also manages to sleight of hand and reach around Frank for something, and in the process drape a gray scarf around Franks neck and tape a piece of paper to his back. Even without his super speed Owen's hands are fast when they need to be. And it might take Frank a second to realize what's happened but Owen is already calling, "Hey, Jess! Found yer biggest fan!"

Of course with that mission accomplished, Owen has to find other ways to amuse himself so he starts fiddling with the sound system.

* * *

"…so what kind of hero is he supposed to be again?" Bart asks as he steps up by the bar again with an extra stack of holiday napkins, the tiny square ones that really don't do much except act as makeshift coasters and impromptu phone number recorders.

The barback is currently wearing his red Flash hoodie over just-red-enough pants and yellow galoshes. Maybe he'd taken the night's theme a little too literally, but at the same time he hadn't wanted to overdo it. Also he couldn't think of a good reason to use Raven's cloak that he'd almost gotten to borrow and figured it would probably get in the way of doing things anyway. Maybe another time. Next Halloween.

He may have recently inherited a fortune through questionable methods but the thought to leave the job he's had at Luke's has not once crossed his mind. Anyway, nothing's been officially announced so no one should be wondering why Stark's ward is working at a bar anyway, right? Right. He grins at Jessica and then waves over at Dani when she enters, forgetting for the moment that he'd only really encountered her before in costume.

It's Atli's arrival that surprises him as he glances towards the door again. Briefly he glances towards the sign on the register, but it seems for the moment that no goats are to be seen.

* * *

Frank looks up as Owen calls out the name on the fake ID that allows him to work without visits from the NYPD, his scowl darkening still further. This is far too close to a 'secret identity,' and beyond that, he suspects foul play. Jess's silent salute gets a wary nod, and then there's something around his neck, and he reaches up to grab for it, feeling the soft gray material. It's not until Owen calls out to Jess that he understands, the veteran Marine looking down at his outfit, over to Jess's, and grumbling a curse, "I'm going to hit you so fucking hard, Mercer." He doesn't, however, because that would utterly ruin the atmosphere. Instead, he draws in a steadying breath, lets it out, and then snarks at Owen, "And what the hell kind of…" he glances over the crowd again, "…hero? are you supposed to be?" He doesn't realize he's echoing Bart.

* * *

"Hey, I can break a twenty." Luke responds to Jess about dollar bills. "But just know tonight, whatever you stick in my pants, goes to charity." His grin widens, but he can't quite pull off the innocence with it. He half leans over the bar, distributing the free shots to any female hand that wants to take one.

"A hooker. Don't ask, you're too young." Cage lobs at Bart as he drifts away from Jess' seat and then drifts back, venturing as far as it takes to take care of business but gravitating towards being the rock for his teataling fiance.

"Hey hey!" Luke greets others as they filter in, raising a hand and suppressing a chuckle at Frank/Owen antics by pressing together wide lips.

* * *


"So it's the men who have to dress up as heroes."

"That's right."

"Not the women?"

"I guess you can if you want."

"It's just that I can't decide between Aunt Peg or Ruth Bader Ginsburg."



Entirely disappointingly, Sharon dressed as herself tonight. Sharon dressing as herself consists mostly of an immensely soft and warm forest-green cashmere sweater and tight black pants, so it's no great loss. The red hat would have gone well with it, but the combination of that and the bright red lipstick might have made the blonde Carter look a bit washed out.

The second she gets through the door, though, she stops in her tracks and just stares at Owen for a few seconds. Sharon glances around, looks left, looks right, looks at her phone to confirm she has the right address, looks at the window to confirm that the number she has in there is in fact the right one… and then heads to the bar to lean next to Dani.

"I was seriously wondering if I was in the right place," she says, flashing a brief grin and inclining her head slightly toward Owen. "…You know, I've never seen a man who wasn't improved by eyeliner."

* * *

Betsy either got the wrong message, or got the message wrong. 'Skylark' comes into the bar, pulling the door behind her. Purple hair is loose versus in a braid, and she's gone to the effort of wearing makeup unlike on fight night. The long purple duster is allowed to slide open as she moves towards the bar. The boots are thigh-high, tight, and gloriously purple. The same shaded leotard with the strategic armor reinforcement along her upper body still leaves some leg exposed, with a dark magenta sash. Gloves that are more of the same color fit snug as she slides out of her coat to head for the bar. "Captain Caveman.. this is a …different look for you."

* * *

"I know this might be moving a little quickly. I know this also might be asking too much. But it's a pivotal step in all new relationships. Make or break, really. And I think you're ready. No, actually, I think we're ready. This feels right. And this is why I need you —" said Alison Blaire, with a slightly-tilted head, and her cobalt eyes gazing up through her lashes.

"— To do this charity gig! Press conferences and fancy, signed cheques can only go so far. This is public relations. It's time to appeal in person, and overload a few instagram servers in the process. You're not getting out of this."

And that is how, in the name of charity, in the name of publicity, a pair of blonds eventually come in through the door. The taller is the famous Warren Worthington, undoubtedly being escorted by the arm by his date of the evening.

None other than Alison Blaire. Out of the Dazzler's famous costuming and blue make-up, her face is recognizable — seriously, need to be in a guiltbearded hole for the last decade not to know her — and her look far more underplayed than her usual, vivid performances. Not that she isn't striking enough, in a well-cut black dress.

Unfortunately, as it tends to direct and hold the eye like a car crash, her first look of anything is on Owen Mercer's tramp stamp. "—Or maybe not the best idea."

* * *

"Evening," Jess says to Moonstar, warmly enough. She grins at Bart and raises a hand to him as well. And then Owen is commenting about Frank.

She stares at this, a strange look coming over her face as she realizes Frank's new costume tonight is…apparently her. Again dry, she says to Owen, "Yeah, man, fucking up the theme on two fronts. You did say heroes, didn't you? Shouldn't you have tricked Frank into dressing up as…I dunno, Ms. Marvel or something?"

Jessica's denial of the H-word, as it relates to her, continues. But she keeps it light, adding, "If you try and drag me and Castle into a game of who wore it better I really will kick your ass, man. Especially since Frank will probably win that round."

She snarfs at Luke's joke about his pants, opens her mouth to make some joke, and then stops just shy of doing so. Instead she merely shakes her head at him with a smirk. Vaguely recognizing Sharon, she raises the fruit juice to her as well. "Nice to see you when there isn't some crappy robot snowpocalypse going on."

* * *

For some reason, to the side of Luke's bar, but definitely noticeable, is a cake.

It's a very ornate cake, made out of whipped cream frosting and decorated with strawberries. It's a light, fluffy, delicious confection. It says 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' on it.

It would be easy to assume that someone had decided to deliver it to Ladies Night because there's probably a woman celebrating her birthday, and her gaggle of girlfriends have decided to surprise her with it.

But they couldn't be anymore wrong.


"Uhhh, Tabby?" Frederick "Fred" Dukes ventures slowly. "Don't wanna bother you or nothin' but I was wondering if you'd do me a favor."

"What is it, Freddie?"

"Well, Mortie's been having a really rough year and his birthday's tonight, and the boys and me had something really special planned at Shakedown, but the person we hired bailed in the last minute and you're the only one I know who's willing to do something like this."

Tabitha inclines her head. "Something like 'this'?"

"Uhhh, well. We got him a cake."


It's one of the busiest times of the year for 8th Avenue Bakery, and in the hustle and bustle of the day's orders, a hapless patissier is hurrying into the back room with a cooling rack full of cinnamon buns when his shoulder brushes against the hanging clipboards detailing the day's deliveries, knocking them off plaster and spilling the papers everywhere.

"Ah shit," he mutters, setting down the buns and retrieving the delivery sheets, squinting at the details. With a shrug, he pins the sheets to the clipboards, unaware of one very specific mistake.


The cake waits.

It's waiting.

* * *

Bart frowns over at Luke, looking somewhat confused. "But that's…" Not a hero? He at least figures that it's better not to ask anything more. If anything he's come to learn about his half-brother, it's that things won't always make sense, and when they really don't, then Owen's been drinking or something again.

With more people filtering in, he moves away from the bar to do a sweep of the room and pick up empty glasses from those who've already been here long enough to get through a round or two.

* * *

"Alison," Warren said patiently, at the end of the Dazzler's spiel, "I've been ready. I think the press conference was the worst of it, honestly. But where did you say this event was?"

Warren Worthington has trouble navigating Manhattan above 50th Street.

A few hours later find the pair of them stepping their way into Luke's. Dazzler is slim and timeless in her black dress; Warren is… well, he's supposed to be dressed as a hero, going by the theme of the evening, but he's not dressed any more outlandishly than he might be for any other publicity call, in a dark three-piece.

Apparently he thinks having his wings out and on full display, albeit folded neatly at his back, is 'hero costume' enough to qualify. It's tied heavily to his identity as 'Angel,' after all.

His eyes turn when he feels Alison turn at his side. He regrets it almost immediately. "You remember how I said the press conference was the worst of it?" Warren inquires of her. "Scratch that."

* * *

Oh look there's Bart! Yes, she does remember him and so Dani raises a hand to wave at him.

When Jess addresses Frank, Moonstar can't help but look over. She gives the unfamiliar man the once over, before Jess is given a bit of side-eye. "You get him, Miss. Jewel." States the black-haired woman with a twitch of her lips as she casually drops that name of Jess'.

And while Moonstar chats with Jess, she slowly palms her phone and subtly aims the camera at Owen. Now how to get that tramp stamp in the picture -

Before she can click the camera button, however, Sharon materializes right next to her. Moonstar, for her part, startles slightly. Perhaps a smidgen guiltily. "Sharon, hey! Glad you could make it and yes, this is definitely the place." And then at the remark about eyeliner, Moonstar can't quite stop a quiet snort of amusement. "That outfit -" And let's face it the makeup too, "- isn't the worst thing I've ever seen him in, so yes, it's definitely an improvement."

Even as she chatters, Dani can't quite stop glancing toward the door ever time it opens to see those newly arrive enter.

* * *

The comment about Owen being dressed like a hooker, cause him to spin around and quickly correct Luke. "Stripper. I'm dressed like a stripper. And while I consider all ladies of the night or certain such professions to be heroes, this is obviously a stripper." He looks at Bart and then shakes his head in disgust, "I've failed you as a brother if you don't know the difference." Oh goodness. Things that should make many, many people worried.

Turning back to Jess and Frank, Owen scoffs, "First of all, /Pete/ here is dressed as my favorite hero of all time… Jewel." Owen subtley tries to indicate the taped sign on Frank's back, but he's been drinking so his 'subtle' is … less than.

Sharon's comment about the guyliner causes him grin and blow a very faux-flirtatious kiss at her. "What can I get ya?"

But whatever she answers, something causes him to stop mid-pour. He all but shoves Frank out of the way, grabs a sharpie from behind the bar and makes his way out into the crowd. He approaches Dazzler, in the obvious star struck way that probably thousands have in the past and butts directly into their conversation to ask, "'Scuse me. Ms. Dazzler? Would you sign my stomach? I'm a huge fan. I saw like every stop on your tour when Trish Walker opened for you.." He offers the marker with one hand and lifts his shirt.

* * *


Deadpool is sitting in the Van o' Pool, which is very much capable of being spotted due to the giant DEADPOOL logo painted on the side. Also, the fact that it clearly says: DEADPOOL'S VAN on across the side as well. The amount of subtle that's happening right now is too powerful for mortal minds to comprehend. It really should be a crime to be this subtle.

The Van o' Pool is parked across the street from the Bar That Is Luke's and Deadpool adjusts the SpyGear Night Vision Goggles that he recently acquired from Wal-Mart. "Hrm. This place is crawling with Ladies and Heroes of all shapes and size. What an inclusive event for anyone and everyone to attend." Deadpool grins. Although, mask so who really knows what he's doing under there. This could be a Dark Helmet situation. "It's dangerous to go alone. I better call in some reinforcements."

Wade whips out his phone and here we go.


Wadelicious: hay gurl. u up?
Nigri Please: Hey Wade! What's up?
Wadelicious: Totes need a por favor.
Nigri Please: Again? You don't have /anyone/ else that can show you the Rhythm Nation dance routine?
Wadelicious: Not that! I need something else. Something… in a size six.
Nigri Please: OMW.

Insert Fictionally Believable Passage of Time Here…

The doors to the Van o' Pool are kicked open and a pair of white boots with gold trim and fixins (they call them fixins, right?) hit the ground. The red and black of Deadpool's normal uniform can be seen but hey that's just the kind of dude he is. Of course, we can't see everything because that would ruin the entrance surprise so instead we'll just follow these possibly familiar boots as runaway walk towards the bar. "Thanks, Jess! See you at the next Con!" And now we can finally get to the part where all this build up better pay off.

Luke's Bar gets a Dude Awakening as the door(s) open and in comes the Merc With A Mouth looking very much both like himself and not like himself at all. There's a white dress, with more of those gold fixins. There's gold bracelets. There's a gold headdress with the frickin' best blonde locked wig that Marvel Studios can buy. And there's a huge plastic sword with a jewel in the center.

The moment he's far enough inside to make a scene, he holds aloft his magic sword and says…

"For The Honor of Grayskull!"

tfUnfortunately, FOX nix'd any special effects (thus the plastic sword) so there's no transformation sequence but they did hook us up with this nifty little title card.

~ Poolcess of Power ~

* * *

"Ah, it is good to see the finest heroes in all the land have come for this merry gathering!" Atli speaks as she comes up beside Jessica, clapping her on the shoulder. They've been in a few scraps together, right? Sure. Sure they have. Her gaze scans the bar, looking to Luke, and then that grizzled man there, who looks far to irate for a party. Or anything else, really. Oh, and Owen. "And also that one." To which she vaguely gestures to Owen. A heavy sigh escapes her before she leans forward to peer at the various bottles, chin-rubbing as she reads off the labels. "Well then, it is for charity, is it not?" And then Asgardian gold his the bar, and she points to a few bottles. "I shall have those three."

Normally, she'd wait to actually get her spirits, but you know, the goat ate her very carefully made sandwich right out of her hands earlier and now she can't help but eye.. is that? Is that a cake? Slipping away from Jessica and the rest she squares with it, and not having any of the social qualms about waiting for someone else to take the first piece, she beams over to the others, pointing at the cake. "Look, it is telling me to have a happy birthday! I.. I don't know when that is. But it is a very kind gesture." In fact, Atli seems quite touched.

"Well then, I shall do the honors."

And then she draws her sword.

Gleaming Asgardian forged steel glints in the light of the bar, and with a kind of glee in her eye Atli Wodendottir does raise that sword high, intending to cut this cake with great prejudice.

And then she stops, smacking her sword into her hand with a thoughtful expression. "Hmm, without the goat here to clean my blade, best not get it all full of icing and the like." And so she very simply,. reaches into the cake to take a chunk out of it with her hand, digging around a bit to get herself a handful of the 8th Avenue Bakery's very best, most special deserts.

* * *

Psylocke will lean up against the bar, to wait her turn for a drink. She'll order something or other, because somehow she doubts Luke stocks anything like the Professor's choices. A gloved hand will go up to slide through her hair, before she will give Dani a little salute of recognition. She turns her head to watch Owen, and her eyes snag on a familiar blonde. She will leave her coat on a stool, stepping forward. "Warren, I didn't think I'd see you.." Then she sees who he is with. The ninja will fall silent, and hope she was unheard in the din, to step back and turn on her heel to be back at the bar.

* * *

At least Jess is taking the whole thing with better humor than Frank is. Then again, she doesn't have a piece of paper on her back that says, 'President, Jewel Fan Club.' Then again, again, he doesn't know he has that on his back. Grumbling a moment longer, he shakes his head at Jess, "Pretty sure he knows I don't got super hero clothes." He points a finger at Owen, "Plus, I'm pretty sure he was hopin' you'd punch me." The interplay between Luke and Jess looses some tension in his shoulders, and even manages to cut a little microscopic smile into one corner of his mouth. And then he's being shoved out of the way by Owen, and Frank shakes his head, stepping over to stand at the end of the bar by Jess. Luke gets an upnod, and a chuckle at the costume, "See, I coulda just worn somethin' like that." His shirtless look is very different from Luke's though. More scars. Lots more scars. "Probably wouldn't have shown though," he admits.

* * *

She was invited. She was invited! God help everyone in the bar tonight, because Harley Quinn was invited to a party. In public. With people that Owen Mercer knows in attendance. He will likely live to regret this mistake.

However, for this very brief moment in time, Harley Quinn arrives looking mostly normal. Mostly. Her cosmetics are dramatic but within socionormative limits. She wears a pair of black jeggings and black boots. And - as she removes her leather jacket upon entering, it's a very normal silk red camisole she wears underneath despite the chill. A charm bracelet jingles and jangles at her wrist with little silver diamond shapes dangling from the links, and her hair is down and only a little worse for wear from the trip from Gotham.

The clown's pale blue eyes narrow as she gets the lay of the land. It really is a party, and she doesn't realize that it may be precisely her kind of party.

* * *

Glance up to Bart and — oh! Oh yeah, that guy. Sharon gives him a brief nod of greeting, but she's initially a bit more focused on reaching out to give Jess a handshake. "I thought you looked familiar. Glad to see you looking well. And in one piece. Here's to tonight being slightly less weird and fraught."

Yeah. About that. She's just about to grab a cherry Coke to toast with (sure, it's a sin to toast with non-alcoholic drinks, but she's starting slow on any night where she might get called in) when through the door comes…

"…tell me that's just someone dressed as Dazzler?" Sharon's eyes go a little wide. Of course she knows who that is. But that's nothing compared to…

"…oh God," she groans, covering her mouth with one hand. But at least Wade doesn't look armed. Well. Except for the enormous plastic (?) sword. Please Jesus let it be plastic.

Also there's a guy in a suit with wings. She has no idea who he's supposed to be, but tonight is gearing up to be a lot weirder than advertised.

* * *

"Well, I'm glad you did." Luke tells Frank as he plops down a white diner mug full of black coffee for the man. "What the blazes is the exchange rate for Asguardian gold?" And he's off again, to palm the precious metal payment from Alti and try to figure out …what slot in the cash register should that go in? "Bart! Can you go put this in the safe?"

* * *

Returning to the bar with clean glasses, Bart does a once-over of the current stock, not that he thinks anything needs to be brought out just yet, but it helps to have a reference point- and photographic memory. He looks back towards the door, tossing a wave at Harley before he can stop himself, and then grants a wave towards Sharon as well when he catches the nod she makes in his direction.

"Oh, sure thing Luke," he says, glancing over at the man before holding his hands out, blinking at what someone's apparently forked over as payment. "Is that real?"

* * *

Dropping that name means Moonstar is treated to a tired, exasperated look. "Stop calling me that," she says. "I don't do the name thing, okay? I have a name. Already. It's Jessica. I have a second one. It's Jones. It is not some goddamn weird moniker that doesn't even make any sense."

She points across the bar, to where Trish Walker is laughing with friends. "That bullshit is her fault."

It is a sure bet when she sees that sign her humor is going to about match Frank's. She spots it as he comes over, and she facepalms. Ugh. She should have a sense of humor about it. She should. She does not.

She double takes as an actual celebrity shows up. Like a big one. That's unexpected. She raises her hand in greeting to them, just figuring she ought to do that to represent Luke's business well, but she also figures they will be swiftly mobbed. And she likes her spot at the bar just fine. "There's still time to put on some Guyliner of your own, Frank," is what she says, regaining her humor as swiftly as she lost it. "I mean. I wear eyeliner, so if you're going to be me you might as well do it right. I don't go around punching people as a rule unless it's important."

She shakes Sharon's hand when it's offered. Sharon gives well wishes for less weird and fraught, and she just jerks a thumb at Owen and lifts an eyebrow as if that says it all.

* * *

Introductions, yes Dani should do that and so, the Cheyenne woman says. "Jess, this is Sharon, Sharon, Jess." And at Jess' exasperated look Dani sends a somewhat apologetic grin to the other woman.

Then there's a flash of movement all around and Moonstar turns her gaze to the crowd at large.

Dazzler and Warren show up and when she spies the pair she raises her hand in greeting.

Then it's over to Atli as the woman brings out her sword - almost the adopted Valkyrie dashes over, but THANKFULLY the Asgardian doesn't slaughter the poor cake. Instead she grabs a chunk with her hand; that's enough to cause Moonstar to wince.

Then it's back over to the crowd as another wave grabs her attention. From Betsy, and Moonstar raises a hand back in greeting, before she motions the other woman to join the little group at the bar should she wish to.

Back to Sharon, Dani says dryly, "I can tell you that's the real Dazzler. Want me to make introductions for you?" Which implies she knows Dazzler, but before she can even finish that thought the sight that IS Deadpool is seen.

It's enough to cause Moonster to stare.

* * *

Over ten years of the international spotlight prepares one for this. Prepares one for the farthest reaches of suffering one must bear, all to appease the foul demonic lord called Fame.

It is for this reason, when she hears:

Would you like to sign my stomach?

That Dazzler does not do anything but take the briefest of moments, tightens her hand imperceptively on Warren's arm in a clear signal DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE WITH THIS —

And she… smiles! Clear thousand-wattage, brilliant, years-practiced beaming, looking like the humble, endeared celebrity who feels honoured to do such a thing. "Absolutely!" she gushes. "You really want me on your stomach? How could I say no?"

Accepting the marker, Dazzler stops — at that name. Trish Walker. It draws a blank for the longest time. Then — "Oh. Ohhh. Cray-Cray. Right. That was… right!

Worst. Song. Ever.

But Dazzler leans in to sign, and there, scrawled across Mercer's skin is: YOU'RE A SUPERSTAR! ALL MY LOVE ~DAZZLER~

Aaaand she's right back, hand on Warren's arm. RESCUE PLEASE, before he asks for matching sister signatures on his ass.

* * *

"You'd look good with eyeliner," Sharon agrees, inclining her head to Frank. But given the very Manliest Of Men air, she says it diplomatically. And maybe a little teasingly.

"Jess," she adds, nodding to Jewel — ah, Jones. "Good to meet you properly. How've things been?" And though she is listening for an answer, she's still shooting puzzled glances toward the Dazzling Couple Of The Evening. And Wade-Ra, right behind them. Speaking of which: "Great outfit!" Pretend you don't know who that is. Pretend you don't know who that is. "The new show is the cutest, right?" Oh God please don't shoot up the bar these are nice people.

But there's still this nagging… who the HELL is — "Oh God, I know that guy. Her date. Dazzler's date. I KNOW THAT GUY." Like it's really hard to mistake the identity of a guy with wings that are probably knocking the light fixtures. "Take me over! Sure. This should be fun." Holy shit. Wormy little Warren Worthington, all grown up.

* * *

The shriek that Harley looses upon the first sight of a familiar face is loud and piercing. "GIFT BASKET BUDDY," she cries at Bart with an expression of joy as both hands fly over her head.

Sure, she's got her leather jacket in her hand and that means that the coat whips someone in the head in the close quarters and the zipper barely misses an eye. And then she sees Deadpool, and her head tilts several degrees to one side as she muses aloud to the woman presently screaming bloody murder to her friends as they gush over her, railing about nearly going blind beside her, "Huh. I think I'm underdressed."

* * *

As Atli reaches out and grabs a handful of cake, the top of it blows off, smoke rising from the top, and a scantily-clad blonde in tiny jeans shorts (and really, her outfit is a lot like Owen's, except most of her is still encased in the cake, and therefore isn't visible just yet) pops out. But there's no delighted, megawatt expression that she had been practicing in the mirror for most of the afternoon. Instead, it's full of reproach.

"What the hell?!" Tabitha Smith cries, pointing down towards Atli, shoulders and bosom framed by a red harness that distinctly lacks any cups whatsoever, her modesty safeguarded minimally by pasties with pink pinwheels attached to them.

They rotate slowly at every gesture.

"Why are you eating the cake?! It's not even ten o'clock yet! I thought you said ten! I even wore a watch and everything!" There is, indeed, a watch. It is amazing that she hasn't spontaneously combusted, because the only people who wear them these days are those who responsibly keep appointments and she's definitely not one of those. "And where was my cue?!"

It only sinks in later, after the tirade has been unleashed, that the person presently molesting the carefully crafted surprise is a woman, and someone that the Brotherhood's expert demolitionist doesn't recognize. There is a pregnant pause as her pale stare takes in Atli, the cluster of predominantly-female patrons and…is that a twelve year old at the bar? Who the hell hires minors at a bar? She stares at Bart Allen in disbelief.

"….I'm at the wrong bar, aren't I? God damn it."

Surprise ruined, she sighs and looks down at Atli. "Could you do me a favor and…well. Eat this one side so I can get out? Sorry about this, I don't know what happened." It wouldn't be a problem if Freddie was around, the dude could eat three cakes by himself, he wasn't called the Blob for nothing, but clearly he's in another venue. This is not the debauched birthday bash she was looking for!

But then Wade-Ra, Poolcess of Power, enters, looking fabulous with all the white and gold. She pauses, and calls out from the cake:


* * *

The facepalm from Jess causes Frank to look behind him, then twist to try and look at whatever the heck is on his back, "God damn it, Owen." It's just a mutter though, not a shout, so at least that's something. He's delayed a moment as Dead-She-Pool-Ra makes their entrance, blinking and staring, "What the…" there's a sword drawn, brandished, and sheathed by the cake, "…hell…" He looks to Luke, "I got shit for licenses, but if you need help that'll get me outta the front room, just let me know, man." It is not his jam. But he's not leaving. In fact, he even nods to Dani and Sharon as they approach where he and Jess are. Jess's offer of eyeliner causes him to narrow his eyes sharply, studying her makeup. His first instinct is to say 'no.' Okay, that's his second instinct. His first is to say 'fuck no.' Instead, he draws in a breath, glances over to Sharon as she weighs in as well, and lets the breath out, "If you're gonna do somethin', you might as well do it right. You don't got a black wig too, do you? I'm not loosing the beard."

And then the cake is exploding, and Frank flinches in a pretty clear indication that he's been under fire before. But the scantily-clad woman inside it is a lot better than an IED, and he grunts thoughtfully. "Yeah… it's a party now."

* * *

There's a smile at Moonstar before she tosses back the drink, a blink at the exploding cake. She will set her empty glass on the bar, and since Owen is busy getting decorated in sharpie, Betsy will beam at Luke warmly. "How much for a bottle? Whiskey, please?" Because she is apparently the only woman who got the message wrong, but like hell she's going to slink out at this point.

* * *

And in that moment, standing in the middle of the bar with one hand 'lifting' the cut off mesh shirt that really needs no lifting for Dazzler to sign Owen sees a true vision walk through the door. One that nearly takes his breath away. Deadpool looks amazing! But WTF is Wade doing here? Oh right… it's Wade, that's kind of self explanatory. Owen comes back to the moment just in time to thank Dazzler, but right as he's about to ask for another one right in the middle of the arch of the BOOMERANG she's being pulled away by the bird person. But thankfully for them, another arrival captures Owen's attention.

And he stops, right there in the middle of the floor of Luke's. It's kind of a big deal for him. He invited Harley to a thing … in New York, with his New York people. And for a moment his smile hesitates, but then she's yelling out something about gift baskets and his grin breaks wide across his face. He's about to approach her when a girl breaks out of a cake…

"Damn. Why didn't I think of that. It's a classic-…" Wait. If Owen isn't the stripper. And he didn't hire the stripper. What is going on here? He's confused and approaches Harley. "Hey sweetness. Did you hire a stripper?" Because both Harley is awesome and not to be underestimated, and Owen's an idiot.

* * *

There's usually more… space, at these things. Warren is accustomed to decadent locales with all the room to spread out and be pretentious and talk about pretentious nonsense, and the close quarters of a New York City bar are leaning hard on those of his instincts that aren't one hundred percent human. No bird likes being in a cage.

He sticks it out, but he's having a little trouble parsing through the crowds that are present, his eyes better suited to peering long distances without obstruction. Something catches at the corner of Warren's eye, nonetheless, a hint of movement in his direction, but before he can turn fully to face it, it's gone again.

And Owen Mercer is stomping up in its place. Alison's DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE squeeze is manfully answered as Warren remains stalwartly at her side. "Anything for a fan," is his gracious remark on the matter (wow, literally anything), before he guides Alison patiently away after her Close Encounter of the Owen Kind.

You didn't have to write that long a message," he says, amused. " — Oh, it's Dani," he prompts, nudging Alison as he nods in the direction of Moonstar's wave. Though the woman beside Moonstar…

"Oh God," he says. "It's Sharon Carter." Not smarmy Sharon!!

* * *

"I'm not going to bite it to find out." Luke tells Bart, depositing the payment into his hand before he turns and sets the three bottles Alti bought onto the bar. He wonders idly as he reaches out to take a fully stuffed tip jar off the bar and replace it with an empty one. "Good turn out." He says with unmasked pride as he takes a breath for a moment, thumbs hooked into his suspenders. Dude with wings. Celebrities. Some…She-Ra guy.

Luke names the price for Betsy, pulling the bottle down and handing it over. He's not looking at the stripper busting out of the cake. Nope. He only has googly eyes for Jessica. Or he doesn't want to be one of those Very Good Reasons she punches. Probably the former, the sap.

* * *

Psylocke hands over the cash with a smile. She will take the bottle, and open it before she scoops up her coat. She will saunter over towards the inviting Moonstar, not realizing she's almost on a collision course. "Dani, twice in a week I've seen you. We should do it on purpose." The usually more refined and elegant Elizabeth Braddock will sip directly from the whiskey bottle. At least she won't have to worry about making her way to the bar again right away. "I also think I misunderstood the concept of the evening." Since she's in her usual ninja style style heroing outfit, and likely the only woman dressed quite so. Other than Boom boom, whose look is a little more… something not quite hero.

* * *

As the cake suddenly explodes before Atli, the Asgardian stares up at her with lifted brows, paused with her handfull of cake held close for the bite she was about to take. The tirade washes over her in a wave, and Atli squints at the woman, her warrior's gaze carefully tracking the movement of those slow-turning pasties, until one eye grows bigger than the other in near confusion. Defiantly, Atli eats some of her cake, enough that she can at least have a taste before giving an appraising nod at how very delicious it is.

"Do not worry, Lady Cake, I'll get you ou-"

And Atli shakes the cake from her hand before reaching up with both hands to nab Tabby by the waist and pull her up and out. Really, it's only her terrible strength that makes it possible, and she certainly was intending to set her down.

But then she hears it. Eyes go wide, and Boom-Boom will find herself over the Asgardian's shoulder, just when she whirls about. Did she hear that right? COULD IT BE?


Reality shrinks away, and Atli brushes past the bar - still with Tabby over her shoulder - pushing past those in her way with enough force to no doubt knock one or two sidelong. There she skids to a stop, her flip-flops barely up to the task, and then she points at Dazzler with the most absurd case of fangirling known in all the realms.

"You… YOU!! YOU ARE THE SONGMISTRESS OF ASGARD!! This is perhaps the greatest moment of all my many years, and I once broke an axe on the jaw of that great fool Galactus!! ALISON THE BLAIRING. ENCHANTRESS' BANE. SHE OF THE DANCING LIGHTS AND THE UNENDING SONG!!"

The titles come, Atli's cheeks burn red, and then she asks the only question that matters.

"Please, would you sign my cake woman?!"

* * *

So here's the thing. Wade figured there'd be a lot of people here so he's also come prepared. He's Pouched Up. And from whence into one of those he pulls out a stack of Glossy 8x10s of the actual She-Ra but he's stamped his personal title card signature on all of these and just starts handing them out. Whether people want them or not. It's kind of in his nature to just be present and annoying and as shamelessly self-promoty as anti-heroically possible.

"Thanks! Love your icing!"

Wade. You just talked to a cake.
"I know. But at least it was a…"
Don't say it.
"Hot cake! HEYOOOOOOO!"

Moving right along!

Wade-Ra continues to make his rounds because if this isn't going to be selfie-worthy he's not even sure what would be.

The moment Wade-Ra makes it to the bar, he does that whole slap his hand on the counter trick and Southern Accents horribly, "AH'LL HAHVE AH SASPAHRELLA O'NEAL, SUGAH!"

* * *

Harley's greeting has him wincing, and not just because it's loud enough to pierce even the buzzing ambiance of the bar. Okay, so that's probably on him anyway for even waving, but what's the point of secret identities when it seems he's getting pretty easily recognized. Maybe it's the pseudo-costume? He knew he should've dressed like Batman. …okay no, that's a thought he can't even picture without wanting to laugh.

"Go~tcha," Bart replies, nodding at Luke, tucking the Asgardian gold away into a pocket so he won't lose it en route to the back- not to mention while he gets distracted by Soooo Many Things. Owen being Owen, which has him pointedly looking away from his brother, the strange masked man in red with…another costume over that. Atli attacking the cake that he'd been eyeing since it had been delivered-

Which apparently explodes with another guest? Party crasher? Tabitha's appearance and subsequent explosion over her own confusion of the situation draws his attention, her erm…unusual costume even more so. Oh gosh. Wait, why's she staring at him? He's not the one that bust out of a cake. That seems like his cue to go and put the money away, yeah. Turning he steps juuust a bit quicker as he hears the Asgardian shout about signing cake women.

What a party?

* * *

Did you hire a stripper?

The words cut to the core of Quinn, and her eyes open wide as Owen puts the question to her. "Noooo. Was I supposed to hire a stripper? OH MY GAWD, MERCER," she says as she smacks his shoulder. "YOU DID NOT TELL ME THAT I WAS RESPONSIBLE FER HIRIN' A STRIPPER! I mean," her smacking hand sweeps across her center to indicate the girl emerging from the cake, "clearly, someone ordered a stripper. But it wasn't me. I've done the cake thing, and it was a DISASTER! …long story, don't ask, okay? But, I mean, not that I wouldn't hire a stripper if you asked me to! I mean, more fun fer everybody, right? Strippers are great! I… just didn't hire that one."

There's a long pause, and then Quinn's entire face screws up in an expression of wary concern with one ye squinting closed more than another and her head drawing back and tilting away an inch or two. "I didn't ferget that I was supposed ta hire a stripper, right?" she asks in a stage whisper.

* * *

The woman who is presently eating her way towards her is remarkably strong. Tabitha blinks as she's hefted up, pink pinwheels spinning. There's relief on her features, and she breaks out in a smile.

"Aw, you're sweet. Tha— HEY!"

Slung over the Asgardian's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, she cries out as she's hefted towards the direction of someone Atli recognizes. "Not so fast! I mean, at least buy me a drink fir— "

She is shrieking about Alison Blaire. Pale blue eyes widen. Dazzler?? She cranes her neck over her shoulder.

Please, would you sign my cake woman?

There is silence, for a heartbeat or two. Reaching out, she digs a marker from her back pocket, and hands it to Alison.

And then, helpfully, she slowly pulls up the right leg of her daisy dukes to present one buttcheek for her to sign.

"I loved your cover of Lionel Richie's 'Is It Me You're Looking For'," she tells Dazzler solemnly.

* * *

"You know, Warren?" Moonstar asks, clearly surprised at Sharon's revelation, "It's really a small world." Straightening from her vague slouch against the bar, Moonstar takes a step toward Bird and Singer, intending to make those promised introductions. A look is given to Jess, inviting her along should she wish to come along, before Moonstar starts to nudge her way through the crowd. "Warren, Alison." She calls out once close enough, "Good to see you both here. I've a friend I'd like to introduce - though it seems she knows one of you -"

And while those introductions are happening the cake explodes and reveals just what sort of dastardly trap it was. Once more, much like at the sight of Princess Wade, Moonstar's gaze turns toward Boom-Boom and the Agent of SHIELD is struck silent.

Finally after a moment, the black-haired woman says, "I need a drink." To Warren and Dazzler, Dani adds, "Ali, Warren, this is Sharon. Sharon this is Alison and Warren. I'll be right back, yell your drink orders if you'd like them, I'll grab them when I get mine -" And off Moonstar goes to GET THAT DRINK. Which brings her right back in time to catch Betsy, "Betsy, evening and honestly, I'm pretty sure no one will notice. There's too many colorful costumes and people to look at."

* * *

As chaos literally erupts, one Jessica Jones switches positions. She just sits atop the bar, scooting until she's sitting cross legged there. It's not exactly a bartop dance, but it does keep her from trampling, Asgardians, celebrities, half-naked people, old grudges, and so on, and so forth. It does not spare her from Pool-Ra ordering a sasparilla. She just stares at him a little wide eyed, and just…nope. Not going to ask. She's sipping her fruit juice. This is the point of the evening where the scale tips, her natural introversion and social awkwardness takes back over. Even though she did hear the sweet sounds of Trish getting trolled for Cray-Cray, which is why Dazzler might get what may be a baffling, to her, thumbs-up from the detective, who is settling into a state of reserve. Not that she won't talk to people, just she cannot handle that kind of chaos with any real ease. This is her strategy for remaining on the fringes while remaining a part of the action. And it's not like there aren't people at the bar.

Like Betsy, worried about her clothes. As she stands next to Pool-Ra. Irony of ironies. "You look fine," she says leaning over, offering a hand. "Jess."

* * *

"Well, after the woman came out of the cake, a ninja outfit is tame, right?" Betsy will smirk at Dani, before violet eyes go wide and her body angles slightly to present a back of her shoulder to two famous blondes. "Maybe I shouldn't be here. Even for charity." That is more to herself than to anyone else.

She blinks at Jess, shaking her hand after a shift of whiskey bottle. "Yes. Dani's opponent the other evening. I remember. Betsy." There's a quick smile.

* * *

Frank finally notices the coffee that Luke so wonderfully left before him, and he digs into a pocket to pull out a tenner and tuck it under the saucer. He's just reaching for the cup when Atli bumps into his shoulder, sending him staggering two steps forward. He scowls over his shoulder, but the Asguardian is already gone, and Frank shakes his head a little more. He might even be a little relieved when Jess gets distracted from the threat of putting guyliner on him. Interestingly enough, for two people with some rather dicey background, Frank and Jess have a very similar reaction to the not-in-the-slightest-bit-organized chaos in the bar. Frank gathers up his coffee in two one hand, guarding it with the other, and puts his back to the bar next to where Jess is sitting.

* * *

Owen watches Harley spin off his, granted kind of strange, question and can only laugh and try to shake his head, but he knows from experience that there is no stopping his freight train. Once she finally stops long enough for him to get an actual answer out, he replies to her. "No. But for the record, always a good idea." No. It's not. But then he asks, "But seriously between me and you I think that's like the only people here I'd trust to order such a damn good one. I mean really she's fuckin'…" And then he realizes he's telling his girlfriend how hot the stripper is and even Owen has some survival instinct so he finishes, "… covered in cake."

But then he realizes that he's technically working so he pulls Harley towards the bar with "C'mon, let me get you a drink and introduce you to people and *indistinct* then maybe *mumble* with you on *crowd noise* bar…" It's kind of hard to catch what that last part was because of the crowd noise and the music that is piping through the room.

Calling out towards where Frank, Jess, Dani and the other actual employees are, Owen yells, "Hey. I'd like you to meet Harley."

This is fine. Nothing bad will happen. He's been avoiding this for no reason. … Right?

* * *

"Alison, lovely to meet you. On my honor, I promise I'm not going to ask you to sign anything." Sharon, literally the most normal person in this entire bar, extends a hand to give this Earth's Britney Spears (Kylie Minogue? Beyonce?) a polite shake. Assuming she has time between signing cakes and asses.

Sharon's smirking, though, when she offers her hand to Warren. "As I live and breathe. It's been what. Almost fifteen years? At the yacht club after the regatta." Because that's the life they both grew up in. Deck shoes and pastel sweaters. Really obnoxious parties.

"I was a pretentious little jerk back then," she admits. "I like to think I grew out of it."

* * *

Duly rescued from Owen Mercer and his pert posterior, either by the chivalrous intervention of Warren 'Actually Wearing a Shirt Now' Worthington, or just Owen taking a very keen interest in something very petite, blonde, and harlequin —

— Alison thankfully gets escorted away. She side-eyes Warren's remark. "I have a brand," she says. "If you're jealous, I can give you one the next time you forget how to dress yourself."

Still, she cannot hide a smile. It's nice to get out. It's even nicer to have back-up.

And it seems like Dazzler needs it tonight. Blinking the memory of Mercer from her eyes, she recognizes one X-Lady in congress, facing her — her body language seems to change, recognizing Danielle Moonstar. Not so vivacious, and a little more subdued — perhaps, even nervous. Even guilty. Smiling hopefully, she lifts a hand in a polite half-wave. Please don't hate me for being a team-abandoner. "Danielle," she greets, some trepidation in her body, like she's restraining the urge to hug a hello. Insecurity is a hell of a drug.

Thankfully, Sharon Carter's introduction is a good mitigation, and Alison answers with a warm smile. "Sharon, lovely to meet you. And — wait. Wormy —" She can't hide a grin. "You two know each other? Please, just get right to the embarrassing stories, because I need ammunition —""

There's shouting. "When it —"

And more. "oh god"

And Dazzler's pupils narrow as she's, all at once, greeted with FIERCE ASGARDIAN VALOR, colour rising to her cheeks to be called the songstress. Her eyes dance to Warren. DON'T ASK. NO DON'T.

"Is that… still a thing there?" she asks, with a bit of nervous laugh. "Ah, please, call me Dazzler. It's not often I get to meet an Asgardian. I keep forgetting just how beautiful you are!" There we go, reassert the Dazzler charm. "I would love to sign —"

And there's Boom-Boom.

Wearing. THAT.

Alison meets eyes. She stares. And stares. And "Absolutely."

She uncaps the pen and writes a scrawling autograph. A unique one, at that!


"Tabby, where the hell are your pants?"

* * *

Colleen Wing arrives from Harlem.

* * *

Psylocke turns her head as Owen shows up with his decorated self and his date, she flashes a bright, nearly trademarked smile. "Does she beat you in the ring too, Captain Cavemen?" She glances at Jess, the smile dimming but still present. "He was drinking before our match. I felt horrible putting him down like that." She would have much preferred a longer bout. "Then again, he mocked me previous, too. So maybe not."

* * *

"Don't take it personally. He's just mouthy. He doesn't mean anything by it. As for drinking, I really wouldn't worry too much about that. If he wanted to be sober when he fought you, he would have been." Jess tells Betsy.

She shoots Frank a quick smile, and if he lets her, she's going to ruin Owen's fun just a little bit by trying to reach over and snag that taped piece of paper off his back. There is no Jewel Fan Club because god damn it there is no Jewel.

Harley introduced, Jess raises a hand. "Hey Q. Thanks for coming out tonight."

* * *

To say that Atli Wodendottir is giddy is an enormous understatement, almost breathless, nearly vibrating in place, she looks on as D A Z Z L E R signs the hindparts of her new best friend, Cake Woman. She even leans forward a bit, gawking as the signature takes an unexpected form, pupils expanding to as she basks in this, a defining moment of history of for the Girl of Thunder. Helpfully she offers, "Mind the gap." And once it's done she just nods, as if perhaps Lord Stark owning Boom-Boom makes all the sense in the world.

"Ah, yes! Splendid! Do not worry, Lady Dazzler of the Unending Song, I shall not fail you in this ques-"

Atli makes a sound, somewhat like a keen, almost certainly a squeal.

"Verily! Your battle with the foul Enchantress is known to my sisters and I, as your songs were the only songs to exist on Asgard after that fool Odin burned down half of the archives! I have listened to all of Midgard's varied offerings, songs that might seem befit for the gods, and no matter how many times I listen to Lady Minaj go on about her affinity for Anacondas, it does not come close to the beauty of your brilliant light."

As if remembering that Tabitha is still on her shoulder, she quickly turns her over and sets her on her feet, but she does sling an arm around her, as if she is Tabby's very best, very new friend.

Mostly because she has to get Tabby back to Stark after all of this, Dazzler's orders.

"And yes, quite right, Cake Woman! Drinks! For everyone! I can pay in gold, or perhaps some goat jerky, whichever is preferred. I… It…."

It's too much. It's overload, one that Warren's wings help draw her out of.

"Forgive me, my manners. I am Atli Wodendottir, Princess of Asgard, Granddaughter of King Thor. It is my great honor to meet you and your bird man with the wonderful hair! Verily, I have not seen locks like these since slaughtering a golden fleeced yeti on Jotunheim!"

* * *

"I do not forget how to dress myself, Alison," Warren objects. "I dress myself very well. I just choose not to, ninety percent of the time."

Perhaps in revenge for that, Warren allows Alison to handle the Asgardian, the cake woman, and her offered ass, all on her own.

He's absolutely going to ask for the story later, though. It's in his eyes.

He's got his own things to tank now, after all, chief among them Sanctimonious Sharon Carter. "A little over fifteen years, I'd say," Warren says, an answering smirk flickering across his features as he takes her offered hand with a firm shake. "I recall the last time quite clearly, in fact, because that was the one with the yacht collision incident. Terrible. So many fine dresses were ruined that day." Not that teenaged Warren minded.

Sharon admits she was a pretentious little jerk — but grew out of it. "Did you?" Warren's smile has a playful edge. "That's something I'll have to see for myself to believe. Shall we do dinner sometime? I could show you I've grown out of being a younger version of my current self."

He nudges Alison with a wing. "Though you may not tell Alison any of the embarrassing stories. Tell me about yourself, instead. It's been ages — "

bird man with the wonderful hair

"What?" The record screech is almost audible.

* * *

"Harley." Luke's face is suddenly neutral, eyeing the woman with a slight raise of his chin as his hands are busy drying of a glass with a clean towel. "Haven't seen you since you dented my building." The towel makes a squeeeeak sound as he dries the glass a little too well.

* * *

Oh look, Owen is introducing Frank to Harley Quinn. Owen is likely too drunk, high, or endorphine-high to remember their previously discussion about her. He sets down his coffee and offers out his hand to the harlequin. "Pete." Perhaps influenced by the manic mood of the place, he adds, "Never figured Mercer'd be the one wearing the short-shorts when I met you." Yes, Frank is quite willing to take his payback for being dressed like Jessica Jones and standing next to Jessica Jones just a little bit at a time. Glancing over to Psylocke, he gives her a little nod, "Pretty sure he already knows she'd kick his ass." And there's another little bit. When Jess reaches for him, he eyes the hand for a heartbeat, and then twists his shoulders to help her reach the sign, glancing at it again as she plucks it free. Luke's reaction to Harley really says everything Frank needs to know, and he nods slightly, taking another slug of the coffee.

* * *

By this point Dani taps the bar, "Beer." And she's not going to be picky about what sort of beer she receives.

She just needs some beer.

She considers what sorts of drinks her fellow partiers might like, but then just goes with simple. "Four please."

Then over to what Jess says to Betsy, "She's right and like she said don't put too much thought into it. Owen is a unique individual."

As to Owen, when he introduces Harley to the crowd at large Moonstar raises a hand in greeting. "Hey Harley, nice to meet you."

And somewhere a winged horse peeks into his rider's mind and SEES all that is going on and he SEES Dazzler standing there. It's enough to cause a loud neigh of indication.

Indignation that HE IS NOT THERE to meet Dazzler, Songstress of ASGARD.

* * *

Violet eyes glance at Frank as Betsy leans against the bar, drinking from that bottle. "Most women would. Boy's light." There's a quick smile. "Betsy. Pete, you said? Nice to meet you when you're not wanting to shoot me in the head." The tone is light, teasing. She clearly does really hold it against him.

Her head tips in a backwards fashion, as she looks at Dani. "He made fun of my fight name, Dani. I should have done worse." There's a smile, before she's eyeballing those beers. "Thirsty, Dani?" Though she /does/ have a bottle in her hand. So she's not judging.

* * *

Relieved of the potentially crushing burden of not hiring the stripper when she was supposed to have done so, Harley releases an exaggerated sigh of relief and then promptly threads her arm through her Owen's as though he were the best catch in the house. "Everyone with eyes can see she's covered in cake, sweets. And that she's fun ta look at."

She's going to meet people! This is fine! This is fine.

Quinn compensates readily for any misgivings by just… drinking in the scenery. As she's tugged along, her glassy expression scans the room as she drinks in the detail of it. The people. The layout. With the son of Boomerang to guide her, her attention can land squarely on the task. He's talking to her, but she loses a lot of what he's saying. So she does the safest thing: she just turns her head back to him just long enough to agree with him. "Yeah, that sounds great, Mercer!"

Back to scanning the room she goes, like a kid on Christmas and plotting, until she sees Jones. And shrieks more. "HI!" She lets go of Owen, intending to bounce forward and hug Jones in a quick bearhug. "IT'S BEEN FOREVER. I mean, seriously, ya never call! Ya never write! …Sure, it's cuz I move every couple of weeks, but…" Whether or not that hug is successful, Quinn points in Jones's direction. "I have faith that ya' could figure it out. If ya wanted to. An' it's really okay, that ya didn't want to, because yooooooooooou…"

Blue eyes shift in Luke's direction and her eyes narrow to tiny slits. "…must be Luke. Who… Owns this place. Which I dented. But there was a REALLY GOOD explanation, I swear."

And then there's Frank, too. But with no name. She shoves her hand boldly in his direction with a smile agape, without a second thought. "Harley Quinn, atcher service! Nice ta meetcha!" And then there's Dani, too. So many people. So many people she didn't know Owen had. "Back atcha!" she chirps to the darker haired woman with a laugh. And then, bouncing on the heels of her booted feet, she sing-songs. Despite the ping-ponging of the greetings, she seems to be keeping up just fine. "I jes' love a party!"

* * *

Mind the gap.

If there had been less going on, perhaps Tabitha would say something to that (though part of her can't help but be pleased, looks like all of those ass-beatings she gets from Frenzy in training are paying off), but with her new, best Asgardian friend getting her buttcheek signed by Dazzler, there's a grin when she's finally settled on her feet. And there's absolutely no shame when her full get up is finally revealed, her red, cupless bosom-harness and her pink pinwheel pasties paired with daisy dukes and cowboy boots. There's a glance at one of the bartenders behind the bar (Owen) and his own get up, frowning a little bit. The mesh shirt was a good idea too, why didn't she think of that? Maybe she can convince him later to switch outfits.

Tabby, where the hell are your pants?

"In the place where most of my good decisions are often left behind," the blonde demolitionist replies with a beaming smile. "Oh, Alie, it's so good to see you! You look great, what have you been doing these days?"

She has no idea about the shipping instructions the pop star has placed on her hindquarters, but that's alright. She'll find out eventually.

Poor Tony.

"I used to be her back-up dancer," she tells Atli helpfully, before reaching out to hug the famous songstress. There's a sideglance towards Warren, before lowering her voice. "New boyfriend? He looks expensive."

* * *

Jessica balls up the offending sign and three-point shots it into a garbage can behind the bar. That's about the time Harley is bear hugging her. Her eyes widen and she flails, but she offers a hug back. "I'm terrible at that," she admits. "I'm a workaholic, Q, don't take it personally. And because you're constantly on the move. Gotta launch a new case every time you find a new place to flop."

But Harley is on to Luke, and Frank, and Dani. Gamely, Jessica just reaches over the bar, finds one of the nozzles, and refills her orange juice. She throws a shot of grenadine into it and tosses a cherry into the mix. Normally she wouldn't just help herself to the goods, but tonight the boys of the bar are busy enough. And it's not like she's getting into anything expensive.

* * *

Granddaughter of King Thor. The mental Rolodex (n.b.: if you're under 30, like a contacts list) flicks up a card. Atli Wodensdottir. Right. Asgardian from the far future. These things, they happen. If she had a nickel for every alternate reality/far future time traveler in New York right now, she'd be as rich as Warren "Wormy" Worthington.

"That's right. Tiff and Buffy and Bitsy, for that matter, I don't think either of them ever forgave Chaz. Bitsy in particular was picking seaweed out of her — "

Tabby, where the hell are your pants?

It's just one of those comments that catches your attention. Sharon does NOT look around, because she does not need that in her life right now.

"…There's more than one embarrassing story. But it wasn't ME who coined 'Wormy'. That was definitely Chad. Chad Wilcox? The stockbroker?" Right up until the FBI busted him for money laundering. THAT was a good day.


//Well, I'm taking a brief break tonight from my life of international espionage, and constantly in the back of my head is this interrogation I have to do tomorrow of SHIELD's former press secretary — //

"I'm in PR."

* * *

"Uhhh-huh." Luke drags the acknowledgment to Harley out with that skeptical sound lingering around the edges of his voice. "Don't worry, your boy paid for it." And then he's back to making drinks as is his profession, sliding a root beer down to Deadpool (if he didn't already get one) and then starting to pull the beers for Dani and clunk them down on the bar before reaching over the expanse of it to ruffle Dani's hair. She attacked him with a demon bear. He's allowed.

* * *

Owen, confused as to what the woman from the fight is now doing there but then Harley is launching into her introductions and Owen just kind of side steps to let that happen, in all it's whirlwind. He laughs and adds, "I'm an asshole." To the explanation about why the building got dented, not that it's news to most anyone assembled here.

And then Psylocke is taking swipes at him and he's confused about who she is for a minute. But then she reminds him about making fun of her name. "No.. I didn't make fun of your name. It's Psylocke. Right? Yea, that makes fun of itself. If I wanted to make fun of it, I'd go for Psycro-.." And just then thankfully for Owen, Harley is announcing her love of parties. He laughs and agrees, "Yer right. It's a party." He turns to Psylocke and says, "I think I owe you a drink." He looks at her bottle and then says, "But yer doin' just fine there. So maybe stop in another night. On me." And with that he's moving behind the bar to pour Harley a beer and a shot and just a beer for him.

He comments back to Frank that "Of course, she'd kick my ass. With or without Mr. Smiley. But definitely with."

* * *

Dani finds her hair being ruffled and that's enough to cause her to look briefly surprised.

It's not often people ruffle her hair, but with Luke the Cheyenne allows it.

After all, she did try to kill him with psychic shenanigans.

Carefully the woman smoothes her hair down and flashes a smile of thanks when the beers are set before her. Dutifully, the woman scoops the beers up (while leaving money with tip on the bar) even as she flashes a grin at Betsy, "Nah, just grabbing a few drinks for everyone. In fact, let me go drop them off -"

Harley's greeting pulls another grin from Dani - because you just can't help it! - and the Cheyenne adds, "Nice to meet you."

Of course, Owen's words about Psylocke's codename brings about a slight shift to her expression; exasperation. Beneath her breath Moonstar says, "Yes, make more fun of the telepath who can psychically chop up your brains. That's the smart thing to do."

Then louder, "Be right back."

And off Moonstar goes towards Alison and Warren's little gaggle and once close enough she pushes the beers at people. "Drinks."

* * *

Psylocke arches an eyebrow at Owen. "What the hell's a Psylocke? What does that even mean? Is it a mind thing? Stupid telepaths and their stupid nonsense." She even tosses on an over the top accent to mock Owen's. "But did I play mind games with you, Captain Caveman? Nope. I simply jostled them around in your skull a bit until you went down under." There's a snort, before she's drinking whiskey. "Don't worry. I'm not likely to remember to collect. With any luck, I'll get as soused as you were getting before the cops showed."

She slides a glance side eye at Dani. "But I didn't!" She calls after the Cheyenne woman. "I didn't even have to use any real skill. It was disappointing." That slides her glance back to Owen. "But I'm sure you've heard that before, right?" The bright model smile makes light - she's teasing!

* * *

Emery arrives from Harlem.

* * *

Alison Blaire minds the gap.

Capping the pen, she turns a 'just between us' wink to Atli, neither in the understanding that, a) Atli actually knows Mr. Stark, and b) Atli, by the Honor of Asgard, will fulfil the quest.

She didn't get a grand, cultural download of Asgardians while she was teleported against her will to the distant realm. Not when Odin kept insisting the MORTALS ARE NOT HEARD! whenever she TRIED to ask a question.

"Between you and me, darling," asides Dazzler to Atli, "Miss Enchantress is overhyped. And not really living up to the title. You're far prettier." A pointed finger. "Don't forget it."

Her attention averts back to Sharon and Warren, and Alison listens politely, with ample amusement, though looks content to let the two old friends catch up. She'd not even known Warren, herself, until she was just out of her teen years — young, making her mark, hiding her gigs from her father, trying to desperately deny she was a mutant.

Warren's wing-nudge brings her back out of memory; Alison receives the gesture with a light laugh. "I will pay for embarrassing stories, please. Treat you to a free dinner, even. Any blackmailer of Worthington is a friend of mine."

Amidst it all, her eyes catch back on Moonstar; Alison's are gentle. A suggestion in her look: 'can we talk later?' Better not in mixed company. X-things to be discussed.

And then. TABITHA.

Alison tries her best to look disapproving. It's not that difficult, either, considering whatever that is Tabby is intent on wearing. Either way, she receives her with a tight hug: a little too tight, maybe. Relief to have a friendly face back in sight, and not the ass end of it. "You know," she answers, diplomatically, for all the DAZZLER IS A MUTANT career-ending hate she's receiving. "Same old. What about you?"

Then Tabby sights the Warren. Her words make Alison grunt, and absolutely not because she's choking on an almost-laugh. "This is Warren Worthington. Warren, Tabitha."

* * *

Frank clasps Harley's hand briefly, then settles back to drink his coffee, "Pleasure, Ma'am." It's instinctive. Even for people who are inarguably crazier than him — if only slightly. Owen's reference to Mr. Smiley draws a confused little look and then a shake of his head. He does not need to know. Psylocke's description of her exchange with Owen has him shifting slightly back, his brows furrowing up. Way, way, way too many theoretical threats in this place, apparently. Especially ones he's got no way of fighting. Psylocke's shot about Owen being disappointing, however, causes him to pull out the metaphorical big guns. Her imitation of Owen may be rough and over the top, but Frank's is surprisingly good, "You can't just say that in front of my girlfriend, man. Besides, she knows the truth."

* * *

Moonstar announces that Betsy is a telepath. And for just one moment, Jessica Jones stops, freezes. A micro-expression of wariness crosses her face before she lets it go, eases it back off, washes it away with a swig of her ridiculous non-alcoholic party juice. She at least has the courtesy to look away as she has her brief Moment, needing to get her emotions under control.

Thankfully there are enough loud and rowdy individuals in this bar to cover any multitude of sins. By the time the moment has passed she's got her neutral-pleasant party face on again. She's looking laid back. But it occurs to her that Owen is getting very distracted, leaving Luke short one dedicated bartender. So it is that she just hops behind the bar and starts helping out, peering into a lime tray, noting its state of emptiness. She picks one up and starts slicing it. Nobody will notice, tonight, she thinks, if they're cut a bit unevenly.

* * *

You know who forgot it was Ladies Night? Colleen Wing, that's who. She is literally two steps in the door before she realizes that there is a wrong sense with the air — like there's too much glitter, too many frilly cocktails, and overtones of too many hormones. She's stepped into a goddamn post-modernity mating ritual, and she knows it.

The sensei — sporting her red Chikara dojo windbreaker over a white sweater and loose black joggers paired with leg-warmers and red chucks — stands there for a long moment, frozen. She starts to take an instinctive backward step…

* * *

It cuts into Atli, to hear Boom-Boom's tale. Not that it was much of a tale, but you see, Atli knows how to fill in all the missing bits. She turns a bit, to look at the cake, half destroyed on one side. Her gaze shifts downward, a hand at her mouth, thoughtful in a way that not even the archives of Chronux could make her. Finally, after finally putting together the picture of Tabitha's life trajectory, she reaches out when Boomy leans back, putting a hand on her far shoulder to give a re-assuring squeeze. Indeed, she looks as if she might be comforting someone who lost a loved one.

Because, you see, she has figured it all out: Clearly Tabby was living the life anyone might dream of. Anyone named Atli Wodendottir anyway. To share the stage with the great SONGWEAVER known as LADY DAZZLER?! This was not something you simply 'used to be'. No, not of one's own accord. It is clear to her now, that somewhere along the way, Lady Dazzler was forced to give away her beloved dancer to Lord Stark, likely to pay recompence for some party gone amiss.

Solemn repose turns to sudden resolve, because really, she had thought Tony Stark was a better man than this. In fact, on some worlds, mostly those filled with insect people, Tony is a God. It incenses her, and she promises herself to correct the situation. One cannot simply take part of Dazzler's entourage and force them to live in cakes, not on her watch.

"Do not worry, Cake Woman. I will do everything in my power to break your bondage from such an unruly oppressor, this I swear."

And so, that is how, all at once, Atli plans to give Lord Stark a firm talking too, and promises to help fight for Mutant Rights, probably alongside terrorists. In the end she releases Boom-Boom's shoulder with a re-assuring pat.

Her train of thought is interrupted by THE DAZZLER explaining just how much better looking Atli is than Enchantress. As audacious as Atli often is, as forward and utterly fearless in the face of her distinct lack of game, or any ability to socialize like a normal being, even she cannot offer a counter, half a flirt, or even a word, her mouth trying to form something for a bit before she just beams a great big smile. Eventually she holds up a finger, and then turns to rush back towards the bar, in part because she needs a moment, and in part because everyone, even an Asgardian, can use a little extra courage in the face of meeting their heroes.

On her way back she simply stops, takes hold of both Harley and Frank by the shoulders, and shouts to them both. "I met her! I met her!!" Another squeal as she shakes them both, gives them both a thumbs up, and then rushes off to the bar.

Perhaps thirty seconds or more pass, and then she returns to Dazzler and her entourage, holding an actual armful of liquor of all shapes and sizes, but mostly whole bottles. These she begins to pass out to Tabby and Alison and Warren, and Sharon too, really anyone who's nearby.

"Now I am told this is the night for ladies, and while I don't really know what that means, I am sure it means we are all supposed to drink, sing, and revel until we forget our names. Well, most of our names. No one can forget the name of Dazzler, for it rings out in the halls of Asgard for all eternity!" This she shouts, making sure everyone knows just how popular Alison is in the Realm Eternal.

* * *

Warren looks more and more aggrieved as the conversation proceeds. He clearly was not a fan of 'Wormy.' "Chad Wilcox got his comeuppance for that," he dismisses. "If you're going to commit fraud, at least get the basics right." He mercifully does not hear Tabby remarking on his expensiveness.

As for what Sharon has been up to?

I'm in PR.

"Oh? That's splendid, actually." Warren glances at Alison. "Isn't it? It is. We could use someone of that specialty on the rolodex."

Dani's arrival is greeted with a flash of Warren's bright smile, as he takes one drink for himself and holds another for Alison. "You're a sight for sore eyes with these, Dani. We absolutely need to catch up soon in a less — crowded setting."

His attention is rerouted when Alison finally introduces him to the cake woman. Tabitha, Warren. Warren, Tabitha. His sharp eye immediately notes the closeness between the two women. "Charmed," is his amused answer, lifting Tabitha's hand for an air kiss. "A pleasure meeting both you and your daisy dukes. You may want to check what she's written on your posterior, she cannot be trusted." Blackmail him, will you, Alison?!

* * *

"Thanks babe." Cage rumbles to Jess as she swoops in behind the bar, flicking a towel over her shoulder and dropping a kiss to the top of her head in passing. He's about to pour fresh ice into the well before he gets distracted by a figure he recognizes near the door, and two fingers get put to his lips for a shrill whistle. "Aw hell naw. WING. Get your skinny Asian ass back in here."

He glances aside, "Hey ROOK, help a brother out." He nods to the ice bucket and beer that's waiting to be restocked, because even Bart the speedster can't keep up as barback alone in this crowd. That and Luke is edging out from behind the bar to drag Colleen back by the scruff of the neck if necessary.

* * *

"Mister Smiley is very proficient at his work," comes the mostly solemn confirmation to Owen's declaration. Once Harley has her hand back from 'Pete', has her space back, she continues looking around the room while Owen gets situated. There's no room at the bar for Harley to sit, but she does readily take shot and beer after she throws her coat into the crook of her arm. The blonde waits until Owen has his portion poured, and then she takes up both of her glasses - one big and one small - before clinking them both against his. "Ta all the things we can't toast in public but we're thinking about anyway!" Quinn offers brightly, tacking on, "I mean, really. When you throw out a toast, show of hands, how many people actually rewrite the toast in their heads ta be the one they wanted anyway?" She throws back the shot quickly, so that then she can raise her hand as she starts guzzling down the beer.

Apparently, no one told Harley that this is Ladies' Night, not the college frat party. But it's okay! Because everyone loves her and this is going to be just fine! Until, her face screws up in an expression of a brewing… something as Atli shakes at her and nearly spills her beer. It could be the coughing fit. or it could be the realization that there is a larger celebrity in the room than her. She'll ask after that once she stops coughing and curling forward to keep the dripping beer glass from going down the front of her shirt.

* * *

Looking confused as to why people are suddenly doing Owen impressions, when he normally is the one mimicking others, Owen raises a finger as if to interject. But then he notices Jess strange expression and something about that causes him to stop. And then Jess gets behind the bar and he pointedly says, "Hey, that's why I invited yer stunt double over there, but I suppose you look a little hotter, so I'll allow it."

Clinking glasses with Harley, Owen laughs and agrees "Yes. All of that." And then Atli is there and Owen gives her a confused look of trying to place where he knows her and her mannerisms from. She seems really familiar but then…

"COLLEEEN!!" Owen of course won't let Colleen slip in quietly despite all the commotion happening. Without even waiting for her to order anything he starts pouring her a beer.

And then it strikes him. The best idea ever. "Yo. Luke." He manages to smack the large black man's bare back. "We should totally hire that stripper." Wait. New idea! But first, old idea. "For a waitress I mean. We need one.. right? And come on, that's one hell of an interview, amiright?"

* * *

The judgmental stare earns Alison a laugh, Tabitha even posing for her in her absolutely terrible get up, pink pinwheels still spinning away as she gives her a well-executed pirouette that speaks, enough, of the veracity of having once been Dazzler's back-up dancer. "This is a long story by the way, and I'm not even sure what happened." All this said as she casually, surreptitiously, lifts someone's jacket from the back of the chair directly behind Alison, and puts it on as if she owns it.

(It's Owen's.)

It's clearly so much bigger than her, but she manages, and it definitely does not hide the spinners attached to her chest. Staring somewhat blank-faced at Atli, furrowing her brows with absolute confusion as to just who the oppressor might be, she automatically assumes she means…well, just anyone who is anti-meta, and she brightens considerably. "Yeah," she says with a nod. "You tell him, uh…who are you again? I'm Tabitha, by the way." Besides, it's only polite, especially when the Asgardian returns with so much booze. She's starting to like this person!

She unhesitatingly plucks a bottle of Jameson from the stash, and turns back to Alison when she properly introduces Warren Worthington. Hand lifted, she doesn't blush, though she looks very charmed at the Worthington heir's manners. "I know," she tells him with a grin, as bright as distant stars, a dimple creasing on her right cheek. "Nice to meet you, Warren. You think if I got you drunk enough that you'll tell me what you put in your hair?"

To Alison, dropping the whisper in her ear: "Very expensive."

* * *

Beer is freely given to those that reach for it.

And while she passes the brews along she catches Alison's look and while she may not be like a traditional psychic, Moonstar is good at reading expressions. It's what allows her to answer with a flash of a smile - sure can.

Then Warren is echoing that same sort of sentiment and Moonstar nods, "We definitely can." She agrees, even as her gaze twitches to Sharon Carter. There's a slight twitch to her mouth as she almost silently says 'PR', but most SHIELD agents (especially the higher echelon) lie about what they really do.

Realizing that the group has grown since she stepped away, Moonstar turns to Atli and Tabitha and says, "I'm Dani." And the last two beers are offered to the other women as well.

* * *

Dear God. Wormy Worthington hit puberty and started kissing hands. Yeah, okay, he hit puberty and turned into a blond Adonis-like creature with enormous wings and started getting called Angel, but STILL.

"Seriously, Worthington?" Sharon mutters under her breath. Still, she's smiling. Probably.

Sharon got HER nickname by always finding something nice to say about people. Go on. Ask Warren what it is. "Hi, Tabitha; I'm Sharon." Beat. Beat.

She's got nothin'.

"Great pinwheels!"

That's about when a beer gets pushed into her hands. She accepts it gratefully.

"Oh, definitely," she adds, turning back to Warren. "I may have heard about some of that. It wouldn't be the worst idea to discuss it sometime. But no business talk tonight. Not if we can avoid it. To old friends and new," she finishes, raising her mug.

And definitely not side-eyeing Harley, who continues to not murder anyone as far as she can tell. Long as it stays that way, she can have one drink.

* * *

Things deposited, quick Kool-Aid break, and back to circling for glasses and cleaning up things here and there, Bart's finishing his round with glasses in hand. He weaves between tables and people on his way back to the bar, perhaps with the intent of swiping a bit of frosting off the unmarred side of that cake, or at least heavily considering it as he eyes it as he passes around the thing.

Although maybe he should clean up the floor by there too before someone goes slipping on cake clods and icing.

* * *

This is the most…insane thing he has ever done. Well not really, but a lost bet and a 'fuckit' attitude has left Emery entering the bat on Ladies night. Who knows but coming up behind Colleen is the Irish Butler who is best at buttering buns and arranging flowers. That is right, Emery Papsworth is wearing pair of black leather chaps, yes chaps because wtf not. A dark green pair of fitted briefs, dark green cowboy boots and a dark green cowboy hat. He also has tossed on a black leather vest to hide his back tattoo but his tattooed biceps and his century refined abs are exposed and glittering with shimmery body oil.

If you are reading this, dont expect brevity. The print is small to allow for levity. But Owen's a prick, and thus named my dick. And he can suck it in case of emergency. <—- This is written in cursive letters over Emery's crotch area. As he truely lives into his Owen given nickname of 'limerick dick'. Save a horse, ride in Irishman. Or something. He does carry with him however, stack of hundreds all rubber banded together.

* * *

"Shit," Colleen breathes under her breath when Luke just hones in on her like she's dressed in day-glo panic. She flares her nostrils with a firm exhale, and quickly tucks her forelocks back behind her ears with a smooth, nervy gesture. Then she advances in another step, and another, and soon she's walking with that long, lupine gait toward the bar.

"Cage, did you put fucking signage up or something about this thing?" The woman is rattled, high-strung in this obviously social moment. It definitely breaks the usual stoic calm she has in most every other fucking situation. Then she has Owen shouting at her, and it seals her approach to the bar until she's slumping into a stool where Owen is getting her the beer. "You put one iota of glitter in my beer, Mercer, and I'm going to take you outside and beat you with a trashcan lid."

Only Owen may actually detect the slightest hint of mirth there, buried deep in her syllables. There's a good reason she's not giving the Owen the full brute of her anger. And she's quickly taking in the entire scene, and only then does she notice the… "What have you done to my bar?" She says this to Luke. His fault.

* * *

Psylocke will flash 'Pete' a smile at his accent and joke. She will turn to face the bar, bending her head forward a moment. The bottle of whiskey is lifted and there is a long drink from it before it thuds dully against the bar top again. Gloved hands curl over the edge of the bar, as she closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths, slow in and out. Violet eyes will look at Jess behind the bar, a curl of a bitter smile in place of a grin. "Once more into the breach, right?" It's quiet for the other woman, before Betsy tosses her hair back, chin up.

Coat goes over her arm, and bottle in hand, before she turns on a heel to turn and strut with all the swaggering confidence of a runway model over to Dani's side, thigh high boots and ninja outfit and all. She'll take up a spot alonside Dani, a beaming smile for the woman. "How's the beer?"

* * *

The kiss to her head from one Luke Cage earns a quick, soft smile that lights up her whole face. Blink and you'll miss it, but it's there. Then she's on to the business of slicing lemons…and Owen is giving her his permission to stay back there because she's hotter.

"Holy shit," Jessica says dryly. "Sorry Frank. I guess I won 'who wore it better' after all." Deadpan. "My life. It's now complete."

Once more into the breach, Betsy says, and Jessica says, "Something like that," utterly missing the subtleties of the woman's own expressions this time around. But then the woman is off to mingle.

She tilts her head in curiosity as Man Mountain and Mouthy McSpeedster start bellowing at the woman who just came in. Now she has a name to put to the face hovering around their table the other night. She raises her hand in greeting, then gets back to the business of working. After all, she's official. The boss gave her a towel and everything.

And really, if she can make it back here without so much as licking a drop off her arm? She can probably make it anywhere, any time. As it is, the bar provides a nice refuge, giving her a way to be social and present and participating without having to be a social butterfly, which she most assuredly is not and never will be. Her eyebrows climb steadily at Emery's get-up, even without any ability to read the fine print from where she is. She just shakes her head and tosses him a wave.

* * *

Not only has Frank been shoulder-checked by an Asguardian, but he has now been bellowed-at by one. The first he took with a scowl, the second draws a hand around behind his back as he jerks back a moment. Only then does he recognize that the shouting is happy, not angry, and he relaxes, "Uh… good for you?" Luke's call to arms saves him, and he nods upwards, moving around to gather up the ice bucket. "On it." Truth be told, it's a little relief to step back from the press, "'Scuse me." His departure actually provides a seat for Harley, since he was standing in front of one. There's a black coffee sitting there too. Frank gets one look at Emery by the door, blinks, shakes his head, blinks again, "Oh hell no." And then he gathers the ice bucket and a tray to fill with beer, noting to Jess, "They're biased." He can match her deadpan for deadpan, but then he's heading off to barback (and escape for a few moments because the insanity is way too much).

* * *

"I swear if you put a sign on my back.." Luke warns to Owen at the slap on his back, but surely he'd notice is tape were stuck to his skin despite it being bulletproof. "Stripper, what? Waitress? Colleen isn't a stripper or a waitress man. I think I already asked. About the latter." He gives a little up-nod as Colleen makes her way to the bar. "We might have put up a few flyers." He says by way of advertising. "Don't think anyone expected this turnout." Especially seeming how they are calling in volunteers of friends and family to help fill in in the chaos behind the bar. "Papsworth!" Luke greets with another raised hand. This place is like Cheers. Only better, because there is stripper cake.

* * *

When Psylocke arrives next to her side, Moonstar can't quite stop an amused snort. "It went good. In fact, I'm all out. Keep a spot open for me and I'll be right back."

And just like that, Dani shifts away from the group and back towards the bar to obtain more BEER.

* * *

As Atli finishes handing out the last of the alcohol, keeping a bottle of some vodka or another for herself, she flicks the cap off in such a way that it will arc across the room to bounce off of something, and then off of something else, and then off of Owen Mercer's glorious asscheek. Her eyes try to follow it, but then get caught on one of those pasties, which she reaches out for. Well, almost. She stops herself, brow furrowing at the utter, nonsensical confusion of it. It seems like Atli has found her limit for human ridiculousness. To Tabby's question, she responds in turn.

"Atli Wodendottir, of Asgard, the Realm Eternal. You see, I'm a bit of a hero. And you.. are known to the great Dazzler as Tabitha? I must say, it is a far better name than Cake Woman, whatever fool thought that up." It is entirely possible Atli has forgotten she thought that up.

"Not that it's matter what you're called, mind. I am not one to judge. My best friend is named Toothbender, who I will introduce you to later this evening. Any friend of the Magnificent Dazzler's is a new, lifelong friend of mine. Much like you, Warren of the Golden Locks and Fine Feathers, are you in fact The Great Dazzler's new backup dancer? I can see you have excellent hips, I am certain you look wonderful sharing a stage with her!" This, Atli says, shouting a bit over the crowd and the music, obviously over the moon because, well.

She's made it. All the legends and lore told of her journeys will never capture the glory of this moment.

Atli Wodendottir is partying with the Great Dazzler. Verily, she may as well be part of her entourage at this point!

* * *

The name drop of 'Frank' as opposed to 'Pete' catches Harley's attention briefly in between sputtering breaths. But, she recovers amazingly well and all but launches herself at the seat he vacates before some other girl can seize it.

Then, once she's scrambled atop it and set her jacket on the counter, she does what any reasonable adult would do. Harley Quinn victory dances in the seat in her own little world with eyes closed and arms in the air, singing to herself an impromptu parody loudly and out of key and out of synch with the radio music overhead. "It's my barstool and I'll sit if I want to, sit if I want to. Sit if I waaaaaant tooooooo. Don't mind if I do, 'cause I'm better than yooooou Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum, bum…"

She abruptly pauses, opens her eyes, straightens her head, and declares to Owen, "Seriously. It's mine now. If I have ta go ta the powder room, it's coming with me. This is a rare commodity tonight, and I learn from other people's mistakes. And that? Was Pete's rookie move."

* * *

You think if I got you drunk enough that you'll tell me what you put in your hair?

"I'd tell you a lot of things if you got me drunk enough," is Warren's sly rejoinder, with a punctuating sip from his drink. " — Oh let me have a little fun, Sharon," he protests, at her sotto voce remark.

His expression grows a little more serious, as he glances between Sharon and Alison. "We can talk business later, certainly. I'll have Kiff settle the time." For now, he'll only tip his own drink in answer to her toast.

…and get asked by Atli if he is Dazzler's new backup dancer. "Perhaps in a manner of speaking," he says, amused. "Perhaps she's my backup dancer."

* * *

With that, Tabitha (thank god) pulls on a coat to mitigate some of that ridiculous get-up.

Alison is not satisfied just with that, and reaches in, inviting herself to button or zip up the coat in particular: the better to hide some of that skin. Not a new thing, with Dazzler. She was always a bit fussy and overprotective with her entourage, and especially her dancers — she knows the business well.

"Don't argue," is all she says to that, with a finalizing, I'm The Boss note. Once a dancer, always a dancer.

With THAT better, she looks off curiously after Atli's sort exeunt to the bar — amused, curious, and her attention still lingering on Asgard of all places —

When Warren shoots her a glance, regarding Sharon. Alison receives it, and her eyebrows lift. She meets Carter with a smile, some parts hopeful, some parts apologetic. "You would be a huge help. If you're accepting clients — it might be a lot. An initiative we're attempting to tackle. A long-term one, we hope."

Her attention angles off as Warren and Tabitha make elaborate introductions, and the Worthington Charm is out in spades. She presses a hand to her mouth, briefly, to try to hide the amusement. "Please, Tabby, don't encourage him too much. He's unbearable now as it is."

Somewhere amidst this, beer happens. Alison's hand lingers a moment too long, thankful, on Moonstar's arm. She's missed her. But she accepts the beer from Warren, and drinks in a measured way — careful not to over-imbibe.

THOUGH THAT MIGHT BE HARD. Atli is back, with MORE bottles of liquor, and a sudden declaration to go with, one that has Alison's cheeks heating — you'd think she'd be used to this, but oh god, the Asgard thing makes her self-conscious — and a soft laugh. "Atli, was it? Thank you. Lovely name, Atli. You said you were a granddaughter of… Thor?" Never met the guy, but the stories are vast. "Tell me you've met the stuck-up jerkwad with the stupid hat and the one eye —"


Alison's grin hitches wider and wider. Never forget. Never, ever forgetting. "Yes, Atli, he is—" Warren gets there first. "WHAT?!"

* * *

Emery's entrance somehow causes the music to stop, full on digital version of a needle-skip and switch over to YNCA. Owen at hearing the music, stops and looks up. He had a hand in this sure. And the music combined with facial recognition was really pretty straight forward to rig up. But never did he dream it would work out that well. He lets out a whoop of "Hell, yes!" unknowingly mirroring Frank's sentiments. He leans over the bar to say to Harley, "Bailey's here. And he's dressed just f'r you. And agreed, Pete's loss, your gain." Because while many here might appreciate Emery's attire, Harley is a connoisseur of racy, questionable fashion choices. How else do you think Owen got the idea for the outfit that he's wearing, which was supposed to be Luke's at least in part.

The bottle cap bouncing off his ass causes Owen to frown and snag it out of the air, from habit. This of course gives him an idea, and he leans his head to the side ever so slightly to gauge his shot before snapping the bottle cap, sending it zipping off a chair and then bouncing off Emery's own posterior.

"No! Not Colleen." He corrects Luke, "The stripper.. with the.." here Owen makes the universal sign for nipple pasty tassels, which who knew that existed. But he meant hiring Boom-Boom based on her obvious talents was a good idea, though his mind then went to bachelor party places and cake jumping stripper is now high on the list that no one wants of Owen's ideas for it.

Finally handing Colleen her beer, he laughs and says, "Nope, no glitter. Nothing else either, like.." He cuts himself off, since he did promise to not rat her out about the arrest. "And this is the best damn party you've ever been to. No complaining."

* * *

"Hey," Colleen says in an automated response when she's waved at by Jess. Then she blinks and double-takes back. "Oh, hey. Jewel, right?" What? No one told Colleen not to call her that. She is pushing up the sleeves of her jacket and sweater, revealing lean forearms. Then she cuts a look back to Luke. "Well, you should have put up warnings, too."

The sensei glances toward where the cake-girl and her entourage linger, and there's an obvious tension in her shoulders — like a big cat who just realized her territory is just part of a zoo enclosure. She slowly exhales, trying to figure her shit back out, and she takes the beer from Mercer. "Alright. You're redeemed…" She takes a sip, and a beat, before she casually notes, "I'll still kick your ass later if you want, though." It's an earnest break to her brood, and she flashes Owen a genuine, if small smile.

But… all it takes is a casual look left, and suddenly she spots Emery. Her entire expression changes — brows high, eyes widen, and then she turns a scowling look back to Luke. Oh yeah. This is all his fault. "I'm expecting a Meditation Night next week, Luke. Silence, no one talking to each other…"

* * *

"He CAN dance."

Sharon is absolutely the worst friend.

"And before you try denying it, Worthington, there's the little matter of that one bar mitzvah where you danced with Claire Henneshaw…"

But then there's Emery and his limerick dick, and for a second once again the Less Famous Agent Carter is rendered absolutely speechless. "Dani," she says to the empty space where Dani used to be, "what kind of bar is this, exactly?" Where Dani was, though, is a Betsy instead. Betsy is given a very pleasant smile, because the lady in the purple bathing suit has so far not terrified her at all yet. Smile. Raise mug. See that Betsy has a bottle of whiskey. Brief moment of coveting the bottle of whiskey. Nope.

"About that initiative," Sharon continues, giving Dazzler the most dazzling smile she can manage. "I'd love to hear more. Depending on what it is, I might be the best person, but if I'm not, I know I can find the best person. There's a little cafe, French food, little courtyard out back, you'd never know you were in Manhattan. Though lately, I've been giving Jersey more of my business."

* * *

Jessica gives Colleen the world's most long-suffering look as embarrassment paints her face scarlet. "No, someone made a mistake with that. It's Jones. Jessica Jones. Nice to meet you." This freight train. Is running away from her. Soon it's going to be all Jewel, all the time. This is part of her punishment for all the wrong she's ever done. She understands, now.

She is grateful when the sight of Emery draws Colleen's attention away, and shakes her head with a long, vigorous sigh. There are probably bigger problems in the whole wide world than nomenclature, but it's getting to be a Thing. Between this and all the goddamn bird names.

* * *

Great pinwheels!

Uncorking the Jameson, Tabitha turns to the other blonde in the collective, beaming at her. Pulling her shoulders back and thrusting her chest outward, she happily makes this new acquaintance by Shakira-shaking what she's got, leaving the pink pinwheels spinning in opposite directions.

"Nice to meet you, Sharon," she says cheerfully, before pale blue eyes turning towards Atli. "And you, too, Atli. Asgard, huh? So does that mean you're really hundreds and hundreds of years old? You don't look a day over Acceptably Young! But I'll happily meet your Toothbender." Though when Warren is asked as to whether he is Alison's new back-up dancer, her grin returns. And unable to help herself, because it was pointed out, there's also a glance at his hips and the flat of his stomach.

Suddenly, just like that, Warren is extremely familiar. "Oh! You're the one from the news!" she says, staring still at how his shirt is impeccably tailored to his abdominals. "Why didn't you tell me? I suppose I really have to ply you with more liquor, god knows what else you're holding out on me on."

But when told not to encourage him, there's a wink towards Alison, though the pinwheel-fun is thus ended when she reaches out to zip her (it's totally hers) jacket all the way up to the collarbones, thus obscuring them. Her grinning expression softens considerably at the gesture of care, knowing where it's coming from - her star might've fallen, but some old habits remain. "I'm glad to see you're out and about having fun," she tells Alison, a hesitant, and subtle, venturing into the devastating blow levied at her career. "If you ever feel the urge to just hang out, you call me, okay?"

* * *

Emery raises his arms in the air and gives a small spin and hip sway at the change of the music. Yes he knows all the lyrics. No he was not a groupie. Possibly. But he boot, scoot, shimmies his way towards the bar. Probably super glad he did not go with the thong. But the Butler stops from time to time to tip his hat and wink at people as he prowls towards the bar. He whistles sharply and holds up his stack of hundreds.

"Oi Ladies! I've about a grand here that I need to blow…so who here hasn's been granted their obligatory lap dance. I have it on good authority that me mate Mercer is just itchin to show us all how he drops that thing down and all around." He holds his arms up. "Come and get your body shots on me and your cash to make it rain and lets make this a parrrrtyyyy." His accent may be lilting and Irish as can be, but he can project.

* * *

Frank comes back from the hallway to the bar with the now-full ice bucket in one hand and a case of beer on his opposite shoulder. He's also apparently decided to just run with things, and has left his jacket in the back, leaving him in jeans, boots, the white undershirt, and a very nice gray scarf. The loss of the jacket makes it quite apparent that he's had some rough times, including several still-healing slashes on his arms. The ice bucket goes down under the bar, and then he carefully settles the beer under the booze, ready to be gathered up. He steps up alongside Jess, glancing down the bar and gathering up a shouted order from someone. Luckily it's something he can fulfill, popping the top of three bottles of beer and passing them over. Pointing over to Colleen, he adds, "You got what you need?" Ladies and gentlemen, the Punisher is tending bar.

* * *

Well, there went one of the few people Betsy knew in the place. Well, really knew, not just meeting outside of an underground fight night. There's a lift of whiskey bottle for a healthy swallow of it, a glance towards the bar and she can't even /see/ Dani. That's it, that is the sign she hadn't known she was waiting for. While making use of her one free hand, she will settle that long purple duster over her shoulders easily enough. "Well, while it would have been a pleasure to linger and learn everyone's names, I'm afraid I should be off." She will thrust that bottle at Sharon to catch and hold, while the tall, purple haired model slides her arms into her coat. "Warren, it's fabulous to see you keeping such like company. If you will all excuse me, there is one other person I should say good night to."

The coat will hang open as she moves over to Emery to land a smacking kiss on his cheek. "I thought you deserved the real thing for your cheering the other night, sir. Have yourself an entertaining evening." She is not into body shots, but she will wink and tuck some money into the band of those chaps for Emery. "See you around, Irish." Then she will turn to head for the door, ever so coincidentally forgetting her whiskey with Sharon.

* * *

And at the sound of a very distinct Irish accent, one can practically see Tabitha perk up, and light up like a Christmas tree. She pivots around, electric-blue stare homing in laser-like precision towards Emery.

"Hey, Irish!" she calls out, as shameless as ever. "I'm new to the bar, so I don't know the rules, but if I rub the limmerick, will gold come out?!"


"Asking for a friend!" And she pushes Atli in that direction.

* * *

"No. Bad Owen." Luke all but whaps him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper for that suggestion. "Now if she's a good girl just trying to work her way through college, we can give her an honest job that includes more ta-ta coverage." His thick arms fold together over his chest. Being the owner means he gets to take a break once in a while too, tyvm. "I'll clear out a spot in the broom closet for your yoga mat to spread out on." He tells Colleen of 'Meditation Night'.

"ALRIGHT. THAT'S IT!" Luke bellows across the din of the bar. Apparently Jess has been called Jewel one too many times. "Revenge is a dish best served…CRAY-CRAY."

Because Trish is what started this whole nonsense, so he's fighting fire with fire. He reaches over the bar to pull out the remote for the internet Jukebox and the song starts blaring. "Owen. On the bar."

* * *

And as the sweet disco tunes of YMCA fade into the background, the lights dim every so slightly as the next song starts up. It's already been referenced here once tonight and probably everyone knows this one hit wonder. Especially it's recording artist, who is here in attendance tonight. No. Not Alli. Trish Walker. That's right the opening strains of "I Want Your Cray-Cray" start up and Owen loudly announces, "Alright people, thank you for comin' out for charity. And now, I get the honor of dancing to my all time favorite song, by my idol: Ms. Trish Walker." Here Owen mounts the bar and points to Trish, sadly there is no spotlight on her, but there is plenty of attention.

Emery's announcement about having money to blow on lap dances from him, cause him to laugh even louder and remind everyone, "And this all goes to charity too. Lady charities." How does Owen manage to make charity sound sleazy? It's a gift.

And while he manages to dance, quite ably atop the bar, he's not letting Emery or Harley or Boom-Boom get away with letting him be the only idiot dancing among the beers. "Get up here!" Pointedly to Boomer, "If yer gonna swipe my jacket, at least dance for some folks first."

* * *

And for the record, Owen is /nailing/ the video choreography. Someone has studied the films and it pays off. Here. Now.

* * *

"Colleen," the sensei offers, almost apologetically. "Nice to meet you, Jess." Her dark eyes track back to Emery, and she places him — finally. He was part of Owen's group at the fight, and that seems to relax her a bit more. Threads and knots and connections are important. It makes perhaps this entire break to her norm bearable.

A little voice in the back of her head chirps in a gentle singsong: Just wait. Danny Rand is going to come walking in that door next, and then what are you going to do? Shut up.

Then she gives Luke a long-suffering look that might almost compare to Jessica Jones's. "I'll kick your ass next, Cage." She says that boldly, knowing that he wouldn't feel her awesome karate, but it's the boldness of the challenge that is enough for Wing.

Then the music changes, and she darts Owen a look, and then follows his look, and then she presses a hand to her mouth, trying to avoid looking at Owen. This is just in time for Frank's question, and she fixes him with those liquid brown eyes. She doesn't recognize him, doesn't even try to. She just smiles a bit. "Shot of whiskey… and some nachos…"

* * *

Poking his head up from behind the bar where he'd been stacking glasses, Bart blinks, glancing over at Luke, and then at Owen as he gets up on the bar.

"…what's going on?" he asides to Luke. And then Owen's dancing to the music. Oh. Well then.

* * *

Did.. did Atli just make THE GREAT DAZZLER blush? It's to much, it's a kind of social sensory feedback loop, which of course is helped only by taking a long drink of her bottle. A long, long drink. She in fact, finishes it in perhaps ten seconds, and finally taking a gasping breath brightens the room with another oblivious smile. Tossing the bottle to the nearby table, she reaches for a backup, twists off the top, raises it to Tabby in salute and takes another drink.

Really, it's the only thing keeping her from bouncing off the walls at Bifrost speed, and when Alison and Warren begin to spar over who is who's dancer, her eyes go wide, as if she herself is responsible for a war that might slaughter millions.

A note to the crowd: Atli might have fact been involved in starting some terrible thing or another that slaughtered many millions, and was very much less shocked then than she is now. And so, she tries to prevent any real fight here, chiming in to answer Alison's question.

"Well, not as such. He is a great old fool, I am told. Even more of a fool than my Grandfather. I imagine the foolishness waters down through the generations, and so, I am likely the least foolish. Not that I'm a fool at all, I mean. No no, I'm perfectly capable, unlike Odin, who only has one eye. And a beard, which he never wa-"

And then Atli Wodendottir is pushed forward, her eyes narrowing on Emery's limerick, eyebrows shifting, and then there is a chair placed right behind her, which she only sits in because her new friend who is also Dazzler's friend made the suggestion. It is not until Cray-Cray comes on that she begins to drink heavily again, still looking at Emery as if she might hit him with that bottle, and as the repeating words to this 'song' come on she looks to the sky, where the music is clearly coming from.

"What byjapery is thi-"

BUT THEN THERE IS A LAP DANCE INCOMING. Atli can't be mad for long, and soon raises a fist to the sky.

"Yes! Bring your luscious loins hither, and doth impress us all, for the great Dazzler is watching!!"

* * *

Shot of whiskey Frank can do. The nachos — he looks over to Jess, "Do we do nachos?" As he's asking, he grabs the well whiskey and a shotglass, pouring it full and then tucking the bottle away again. No flare, no fanciness, just a shotglass of whiskey. A generous pour at that. He has to grab the shotglass back, however, as Owen prances past him on the bar. Frank very carefully does not look up, because those short shorts are WAY too short. He sighs in long-suffering manner, then passes the shotglass over to Colleen.

* * *

Kiss to his cheek gets a soft 'Bless ye' and a call me sign as Emery laughs heartily and then he turns smoothly when someone asks about rubbing the limerick and his eyebrows shoots up. "I'd have had to paint it rainbow colored for that luv." He replies with a wink before that damn song comes on and he kinda double takes at Owen hitting the dance choreography and a hand moves to his mouth before he just tosses a couple of bills up at him on the bar.

Give him a moment as he double takes at Atli, head tilting to the side as he looks from Owen and them back to Atli and then back to Owen and then at all thenothers as he just spreads his arms and steps out of the way to avoid blocking the beautiful view. "Get a good look ladies, because in the morning, he turns back into an arsehole." Then to Atli and by proxy Boom Boom he gets to his knees and offers half the stack of hundreds.

* * *

"Bailey's is here?" Harley squeaks, turning around to face the entrance. Except she's too short to see. So she clambers on top of the stool, and shrieks at the top of her lungs as soon as she spies him. "BAILEY'S!" It is shrill, loud, and annoying.

And she doesn't care. At all.

Instead, the clown is simply climbing back down and then biding her time before launching herself at Emery to hug him. He'll hopefully get all of his money distributed in time. She's not the best at patience sometimes.

* * *

"That, ladies and gentlemen, is why I love Luke Cage," Jessica says, even as she slides a mixed drink towards another patron. If there's one thing she knows well besides PI work, it's frickin' booze. She isn't shouting it, but it's there, warm, another grin coming over her face as Trish basically face palms and groans.

She does shout over the bar, "Hey Trish! Look on the bright side! At least it wasn't Patsy!"

She's really mad about the Jewel thing. But thanks to this, she's getting less mad. Seeing her fellow temp-bartender of the evening is Frank, she mostly just looks amused as Owen starts bringing people up for a bar dance. She will similarly have to thank him later for his part in this most perfect of revenge dishes. Working away, she mutters, "This has got to be the only time in my entire life I've ever enjoyed this god damn song."

But Frank is asking an important question. Do they do nachoes. "Uhhhhh…"

She starts searching around. And then digs keys out of her pocket. Knowing this will be a matter of seconds, "Hey, Bart, can you run up to our apartment? Grab the block of cheese and the Doritoes?"

* * *

After waiting a long moment, the Asgardian's patience seems to thin just a bit. Also, her bottle is running out. At this point, Atli does not really care who dances on her lap, and without pausing to really look at the money much for a moment, she blinks once as Emery is hit from the side by the glorious Harley Quinn. "Hmm." This, all Atli offers to the money before tossing ALL OF IT up into the air and every which way. Well.

Someone did mention making it rain.

And to that point, Atli joins in with some of her own money, taking one coin after another from her pouch to throw the gold at Owen. That's right, she pelts him with coins, cheers and carries on, and finally draws her sword from her back, which quickly grows to become a spear.

"Verily, I have decided to alter the rules."

And then she throws the spear right between Tabby and Owen, where it sticks in the sigh over the bar that says 'NO GOATS, NO EXCEPTIONS'.

"Toothbender, there is a mission for you! To all those denizens of Midgard who have yet to see a dancing goat, prepare yourself for a sight filled with glory!"

And then it happens. Billowing. Blazing. Filled with rainbow light, reality parts… and out comes a massive goat in the form of Toothbender, who skids into the room with a sudden, confused snort, seemingly out of nowhere. Horns curled high. Weird, goatly eyes take in the crowd, and there is a moment that hangs in the air before Toothbender lunges forward to grab a hundred dollar bill out of the air, and then he does exactly as Atli said he would, and begins teetering about like a goat gone mad, dancing along to the beat of Cray-Cray.

This is not Toothbender's first time at a music filled club in which Midgardian money rained from the sky.

To Dazzler, Atli turns to give two thumbs up and a gleaming smile.

* * *

Luke gives a wide smile at Jessica, which may or may not have to do with the fact that is the first time he's heard her publicly declare her love for him. Not so secretly decent after all, Jones! With arms crossed he does look up at the spectacle, mainly because he's in charge of being the spotter in case anyone goes tits over teakettle. Last thing he needs is a lawsuit and having to explain this to Nelson & Murdock.

* * *

Nachos sound good. Yes, this is an important question.

Bart's attention shifts from the current 'entertainment' in favor of munchies, although as he takes the keys from Jess he looks at her, brow arching at her request. "Uhhh….sure?" he replies, shrugging as he turns to slip off and do so.

He's only briefly distracted by the colorful light show Atli provides, right before sudden goat. Ho boy. As much as he really wants to see what happens next- oh wait. Duh. Speedster. He'll be back with those Doritos and block of cheese in no time.

* * *

Block of cheese and doritos, and Colleen's hands shoot up immediately in surrender. "Don't make a special trip on my account." She rocks up onto the rungs of the stool, and grabs the shot of whiskey once Owen's skinny dancing ass comes by. She tilts a look up, and then shrugs slightly as she looks back at Frank. "White boys."

Then she takes the shot in one smooth backward tilt, letting it burn her throat. It settles into her belly, warms her, and does all it can to help Colleen forget that she's still a few hundred short of rent this month. Then she looks at Luke, and then to Jess, and then she gestures somewhat awkwardly to Luke as if conveying in that mere gesture of: So, this is your fiance?

Then she looks toward the bellows of demand, and she just watches the Asgardian — not knowing at all that there is an Asgardian here, because she's not met one and she has no context. Though the goat is definitely throwing her for a total loop. "What. The. Fuck."

* * *

At Atli's crow of triumph, Tabitha flashes her a thumbs-up when Emery gets on his knees and presents a wad of cash, immediately making him the hottest man in the room. But when called out so brazenly by Owen, she presses her hand to her chest and gasps in an exaggerated fashion. "How dare you." Pause. "Challenge accepted."

And this is how she ends up with Owen Mercer on the bar, dancing to the (terrible) choreography of 'I Want Your Cray Cray', while stuffing dollar bills down the man's tiny shorts. Because it's Ladies Night, some traditions must be upheld.

Though, the goat? It's a new one. There's a blink at the spear, and then at the goat that is now dancing on the bar counter. The expression on her face, for a few seconds, is indescribable.

…and then, she shrugs, rolls with it, and spends the next few minutes teaching Toothbender the can-can.

Overall? An excellent evening.

* * *

Luke gives a pride filled smile and nod at Colleen before. Sigh. Goatpocolypse. "Someone threw a spear. In my bar. And there is a goat." It's said flatly to Jess in a please-talk-me-down-from-this-ledge voice.

* * *

Frank looks horrified by Jessica's response to his inquiry. "Oh hell no." Looking past him in the direction that she's giving the orders to, he continues, "No. Not a chance." You're going to do something, you're going to do it right damn it, and that's not right. He's distracted by Harley's shriek-and-pounce move, shaking his head, "Yeah, that'll work for Owen." And then Bart is gone, because you can't stop a speedster who wants to do something fast. Colleen's comment to him draws a snort, "Don't blame him on me." The flight of the spear causes Frank to tighten up as it goes whipping past, drawing the Ka-Bar from the back of his belt with a short, sharp motion that is mostly hidden by the bar. He scowls back along its flightpath to see who… wait… rainbow lights and… a goat? What. The. Fuck. Frank's eyes widen, and he takes a step back from the bar with its pair of human dancers and… a giant goat. He glances a little helplessly at Luke and Jess, unsure if he should be doing something about this or not. At least he's forgotten the nachos order, because at least this way there's a chance he'll see how Jess is going to prepare them.

* * *

Jessica nods at the silent question, though she seems to think Colleen is just being polite about the special trouble. "It's no trouble," she says, flashing a smile. Okay. She can do this. And Frank is spazzing. She scowls at him. "They're chips. It's cheese. They're tortilla chips even. Taco Bell makes tacos out of them. Ergo, they can too be nachoes." And now she's got a point to prove.

Aaaand spear. She side steps it with slightly widened eyes, but…oh there's a goat. A dancing goat. Well. Okay. She's just going to focus on this service with a smile shit. She can do the thing. She can make customers happy with her creative solutions.

She sets the block of cheese on a cutting board, gets it out of its wrapper, and looks for a shredder. There isn't one, so she shrugs and takes up the bar knife. She chops the cheese into chunks, pours the Doritoes in a bowl, and swiftly sticks them into the microwave. She hits the one minute cook button. "There. I'm practically goddamn Gordon Ramsay over here," she says, with some satisfaction.

She does at least have half the patented Ramsay equation down pat?

Oh, Luke needs her. She looks around, trying to figure out how to talk him down from this ledge. "I got nothin' babe," she admits, even as the microwave cooks away.

* * *

His errand done, keys returned and only being able to watch Jess handle her version of nachos, Bart can only glance at Frank and shrug, grinning sheepishly. Are you going to tell her that's now how nachos are made? He sure isn't.

It's sure getting crowded behind the bar…and on and around it in general.

* * *

Zatanna Zatara arrives from Harlem.

* * *

There are so many things happening. He just barely finisjes passing out some cash before he reflexively slide/twists on knees to catch the flying woman with both arms and another warm laugh. Emery is here to party, and party he does. Then there is a sword that is a spear and the melee weapon lover within him increases the space that limerick is on for a moment, it vanishes the moment that goat appears and he blinks.

He just shakes his head slowly and is distracted enough to not notice the evil going on behind the bar. Because there is singing and dancing and drinking to be had and he is Irish. He knows how to Party.

* * *

She is a late arrival to Ladies Night in Luke's Bar, but she was invited, so here she is.

A cold gust of wind heralds the arrival of one Zatanna Zatara, bundled up in a black peacoat, thigh-high boots and a crimson scarf, her loose coiffure stuffed stylishly in a black knit cap. Ice-blue eyes wander over the crowded bar, blinking at all manner of revelry and debauchery present. There's an Australian gyrating on the bar to 'I Want Your Cray Cray' in tiny shorts, dollar bills stuffed in his waistband, along with…a goat?!

She moves towards the counter, leaning against it, arms folded on the surface - away enough that she won't get in the way of the show, but definitely close enough to appreciate it. And there's Jess, somewhere behind it, making nachos.

…well. 'Nachos.'

"Keep that up and I'm putting you up for Iron Chef," she calls out, before furrowing her brows at the speedster behind the bar. For some reason, he looks really familiar.

Then again, she's never seen Impulse out of costume.

* * *

Last time Luke and Owen tried to vacate a damn goat out of an establishment, Owen ended up temporarily in a different dimension. There is a Very Good Reason for the sign that Luke is now headed over to to examine the spear sticking out of it. With one large finger, he gives it an experimental poke to make sure it's not going to shock him or something. With a very Not Pleased face, he then yanks the thing from where it's imbedded. He's surprised by the weight of it, and though he can flex it, he can't tie it into a knot as is his first instinct. Cage hoists it easily to rest over his shoulder. "You're paying damages before you leave." He tells Atli as he passes by on the way to the door.

The only thing that could ruin his good mood: messing with his bar. He doesn't care if people are spilling drinks or tracking frosting through the place, but you break something? Fun's over. Out into the little vestibule he goes and then the outer door is opened and the spear is chunked outside. "I'll be in my office." He tells Frank, leaving him and Jess with Owen in charge. Because he really really doesn't want to see if that spear magically returns.

* * *

When the concoction comes out of the microwave, Jessica studies it for a moment. Noting how some of the cheese hasn't really melted into any real coverage. Some hasn't melted at all. Some looks a little burnt. The bright orange Doritoes are looking a little less peppy. "It's probably fine," she mutters thoughtfully. Oh. Right. You're supposed to taste your own cooking so you know it's really fine. She plucks up one from the edges, because she's not sure if that's a no-no, and pops it in her mouth. She makes the not bad face, actually seems to mean it, but then opines:

"It needs something."

What does it need? Oh, she knows.

The detective plucks a lime slice up from her earlier efforts and places it carefully on top of the pile of…Dorito-Cheese-Stuff, and does so at the spot that's the most bereft of any cheese. Rationale? There is lime in guacamole, so it goes with Mexican-food-type things. Even if she can't recall ever having seen a lime at Taco Bell. She's sure of it though.

It'll work. There.

Presentation is everything, after all. She gets a little bar napkin and places it all in front of Colleen proudly. "There!"

Everyone else is drunk. What the Hell is Jessica Jones' excuse?

"I've been working on my cooking," she tells Colleen, with a smile. Zee tells her she's putting her in for Iron Chef, and she says in all seriousness, "That might be kind of fun. I'm not sure I'd be good at making my own recipes though. I'm glad you came!"

* * *

"I've never been here before, this place is really hopping!" Zatanna calls to Jess. "Where's the future Mr. Jones? I wanted to tell him congratulations!" There's also a glance at the doritos-and-cheese concoction, blanching a little bit.

"Well, why not? I think that judges' panel needs something to shake up their palate, anyway."

* * *

"Taco Bell is not food." And this from Frank, who will eat MREs and tuna casserole out of the foil package. He manages to look away from the dancing goat to watch Jess prepare 'nachos' with mounting horror. Looking to Bart, he looks momentarily confused at why someone so young is behind the bar, but then he shrugs — he's wanted for at least 30 counts of murder, and he's behind the bar. "No. No. Just…" He looks to Colleen, "Just a minute." He reaches for the cheese and the Doritos, sighing a bit at the latter. When Luke comes back after bouncing the spear, he inquires, "Kitchen's back on the right?" He doesn't wait for confirmation, pointing at the 'nachos,' telling Colleen, "Don't eat that," and stalking off in the direction of the kitchen.

* * *

"I thought it was No Goats, No Exceptions, Luke." Colleen looks furtively at the big man.

Then she turns slightly in her stool to watch Jessica Jones make her nachos, and the uncertain look is there. Definitely not what she intended, but she's also not about to turn down food when offered. She rests her weight into her forearms, giving the bowl a very cautious look. Then she looks up at Jess. "Well, I suppose this is a good first step."

Then she starts poking around the nachos, careful of the weird temperature that microwaves cause. Frank's words has her stalled, and she looks to Jess briefly and then back to Frank's back. It causes a slight smile to quirk at the corners of her lips. She notes the mood around Luke when he heads off, and then looks back to Jess. It isn't a questing look, but a look all the same. Then she's glancing to Zatanna as she meanders over, and the bowl is offered to the goth magician. "Sharing is caring."

* * *

It is a revel for the ages, and for the first time in a long time, Atli does not even notice that she no longer has proper boots. Nor does she fall prey to the on and off again reminder that even the Asgard of this time is not truly her home. No, in this, the crash of bodies to horrible music, the trot of her goat learning new things from the unstoppable Boom-Boom, and meeting the woman who's music single handedly helped her through a childhood without parents, she has found A Moment. It is a rare thing, to feel as she belongs.

But tonight, in that moment, here in Luke's Glorious Bar, she feels like she's home.

For Luke, she has a thumbs up, agreeing she will pay whatever price for her often foolish actions, but as her goat dances and she rises to join in, she decides she shall apologize later. For now, she embraces the night, and feels like a Midgardian.

* * *

Bart isn't sure whether to be fascinated or grossed out by Jessica's gourmet endeavor. Although even with Frank telling people not to eat the thing, he can't help but reach for one himself. It's cheese and chips. With lime! What could possibly go wrong?

Waving at Luke as he goes to excuse himself, the speedster glances over at the door as someone else enters, chip pausing inches from his mouth as he smiles and waves, although he hesitates as he notes the look from the magician his teammate.

Oh. Right. With everyone else recognizing him out of costume go figure the one person on his own team doesn't! …oh what the heck. Wave. Chomp.

….it's…not …bad?

* * *

Sharing is caring.

Well, not when you're sharing that, but Zatanna is plenty sure that she's had worse, and she's not about to hurt Jessica's feelings. This is the perennial rabbit hole that she falls into on occasion, because this is precisely the same rationale that has her drinking all the horrible things Mad Scientist Timothy Drake concocts with his blender. So she does grin at Colleen, fingers with their black lacquered nails reaching over to pluck some of the chips off the bowl, and eats.

"Whoa. It's actually not bad." Because really, they're just extra cheesy Doritos, and she likes both.

And Bart's wave, she grins and returns it, before shifting over closer in that direction, and lowers her voice. "Impulse? What are you doing here? Why are you behind the bar? Do you work here?"

She is reminded that there are many things she doesn't know about him outside of Titans activities.

* * *

Where is the future Mr. Jones? "I'm not sure! He was doing something with the spear…"

Because in all the din Jess missed the grumpy retreat to the office. Seeing Zee happily enjoying her dish, she flashes the magician a grin. She then retreats to go look for him. This may, of course, be an ideal moment to divvy up the concoction to either those capable of enjoying it, or those, like potted plants and various garbage cans, who will bear the burden with long-suffering silence and endless perseverance, bearing their dark secrets with dignity.

Did she just leave the minor as the last person actually anywhere near the bar?

She doesn't even check.

It's probably fine.

* * *

Did Luke have salsa in the kitchen? Nope. But when Frank comes back out of the kitchen, there's a finely-diced mix of tomatoes, onions, garlic, and peppers on top of melted cheese, black and green olives, and… is that lime crema? Still just Doritos underneath all of that, though. He's actually got three little plates of the nachos, and one goes down in front of Colleen, another behind the bar for Jess, and then he holds the next one up, calling out in his gravelly voice, "One serving of nachos to the highest bidder." It's for charity, right? Faces turn towards him, and he blinks. Fuck. Tactical mistake. Hope there aren't any of NYPD's finest here tonight.

* * *

Colleen sharing anything is caring… Zatanna just doesn't know that. Though there's a good chance that Colleen is sharing-slash-caring at all is because she took an entire shot of whiskey and half a beer down without anything in her stomach, and she's had a shit day. Colleen's just not a mean drunk.

You are all so blessed.

The sensei takes another bite of the cheesy doritos as she observes Zatanna and Bart. A certain calm has fallen around the bar, despite the still bouncing level of noise and population. When Frank emerges with… "Where the hell did you get that?" She blinks at the nachos in front of her, and she… is pretty sure those are nachos.

* * *

Is it break time for him? Bart realizes he hasn't been keeping track, but to be fair, there were a lot of things happening. And are still happening. It's been a nice turn out though! Weird as things have gotten, but that's kind of per the norm… Especially when his half-brother's…Owen.

Scooping up a few of the emptied glasses from the counter to get them cleaned out, he glances up again as he finds Zatanna's stepped on over for a chat. When she mentions his codename he smiles crookedly. "Heya Zee. Good seeing you. And yeah, been working here…like a year now, actually?" he says, blinking as he thinks on that. "Figured I'd be needing a job, 'specially with Clawmy." More so, even, now that the cat's gotten as big as she has. "-oh yeah, you can just call me Bart." He sees no harm in Zee knowing who he is.

When Frank reemerges, Bart blinks over at the man and the plates he's setting down, giving a low whistle. Okay, that's kind of impressive.

* * *


"Really?" Zatanna grins, folding her arms once more on the counter now that she's managed to reorient herself. "You don't look like a Bart. I don't know, I figured your name was actually something like….Michael."

Mike Allen??

With the Punisher stepping out of the back and offering one plate of seemingly delicious nachos for charity, she lifts a hand, and bids a ridiculous amount. Whoever spends a hundred dollars on a plate of nachos? Well, she was late, and with Jess off to presumably fish out her intended, she's making up for lost time. To her teammate, she winks.

"Wanna share?"

Setting the tone for the rest of her night.

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