ArchivedLogs:Shots Fired

Shots Fired
Dramatis Personae Melinda, Luke Cage
In Absentia	2013-05-25 Luke and Mel have drinks and get greasy food.
Location <NYC> Molly's Pub - Lower East Side
Rescues are not exactly clean endeavors. Even one as clean and simple as pulling all the mutants out of the Thunderdome after the guards just surrendered the keys and walk off still has its fall out. The Common Ground Clinic has been maxed out. Their rooms are now full of refugee mutants as well as their usual swamp of patients, and their staff completely overwhelmed. Melinda sticks around for a good amount of time, doing whatever she can to help out, especially with things that do not require a medical background to do. She's been changing sheets, helping to bathe patients, cleaning up, serving food, and most importantly, manning the coffee machine to make sure the liquid alertness flows into all of the veins of the rescue workers and helpers alike. Certainly, some patients get some of this black gold, but it is mostly flowing to people who have use of their limbs. Nearly twenty four hours after the rescue left Chinatown, Melinda is finally glanced at by a fresh faced individuals and relieved of her duties. She spends a full half an hour shifting in place at the clinic before finally shuffling herself outside into the gray afternoon, feeling the mist of a little drizzle on her face. Utterly wound up yet exhausted, she doesn't exactly go directly home, but instead jumps on the subway and /heads/ home, instead ending up a small dive bar named Molly's in her neighborhood. This bar is literally a hole in the wall that is the Lower East Side. Grimy tables litter the small common room, nearly pushed up against the small bar in the corner. On the mirror behind the bar, a greasy menu has been taped, with a small offering of pub food to purchase. A jukebox, at least forty years old, sits in the corner, an 'out of order' sign on its cracked glass face. This is a bar to come to when you want to drink to forget, or maybe pick a fight. Certainly the crowd looks rough enough to oblige the latter, and the booze is cheap enough to indulge the former. "Hey, Frankie," Melinda waves to the bartender, remembering his name despite the fact that she hasn't been here in a long while. She heads directly for the bar and settles heavily on a stool. "I could use a drink or four. What do you got that won't chew through me too fast?" She's a demanding gal, asking for the top shelf stuff so early in the drinking day. In the background, here and there, nearly the whole time, was also Luke Cage. He had even made eye contact with Melinda a couple times as he was rushing people out of the building and into her van, before he would dash back inside. Later, he could be seen knocking around the clinic, helping heavy and oversized patients in and out of bed, wherever he could help. Almost completely gone was the bravado and swagger that generally accompanies the man, although he was not without a sense of good cheer. The rush of rescuing all those people, the satisfaction of seeing it done without killing - all of the positive things are at the top of his list. He makes the rounds like any celebrity, though he's somewhat more well known amongst mutants, of course. Smiles and handshakes, all around. Sometimes even hugs, but he doesn't seem to mind. Knowing how tired he was himself, all things considered, his estimation of the human workers went up exponentially (even if he doesn't clearly understand exponents himself). He had tried to speak to Melinda several times during their work, but everything was so hectic, it was just impossible to stop and talk. They had left things so awkwardly though, Luke was determined to reconnect and leave things in better condition. Friends of mutants can be hard to come by. When it was time for Melinda to leave, his first inclination was to make sure she wasn't about to get in a car and drive, considering how tired she obviously was. But when he followed her to the subway, it turned into regular bodyguard work, wanting to make sure no one bothered her. He decided if she was just going home, he wouldn't bother her, but if she stopped in somewhere, maybe he'd just happen to run into her. It's not stalking if you mean well, right? Luke waits outside for fifteen minutes or so, hoping that will make it look a little less obvious, and then pushes in through the door, ducking his head a little out of habit. Once his eyes adjust from the afternoon light to the cool dark of the bar, Cage nods, and walks up to stand by the stool next to Melinda. "This seat taken?" Fortunately for Cage, Mel is just way too tired to notice at this point. She is leaning against the bar, elbow braced on the surface, shot glasses lined up, smiling as she presses her cheek against her hand, waiting for Frankie to finish filling them. "You're a dear." She draws in a deep breath and bites the side of her lip, trying to decide which end to start from when Cage speaks up, her brows darting upward as she recognizes his face. "Good lord, what are you doing here?" She turns back to her booze and picks up the glass closest to her right hand and tips it back quick and hard into her mouth, shooting the tequila straight down her throat. The bar is so classy, there aren't even lime slices and salt to go along with the tequila, just old and awkward peanuts -- which Frankie decides to switch out for fresh for Melinda. Hey! A pretty(-ish) girl is in here! It's bringing in business! Frankie then turns to Cage and looks expectantly before uttering famous words. "What'll it be?" Cage smiles down at Melinda and settles down onto the stool next to her. He makes the universal gesture for, ‘I’ll have what she’s having,’ and points at the row of shots. He’s pretty sure he can keep up with her. “Just add a Corona for dessert, will ya?” he asks of the bartender. To Melinda he says, “Someone at the clinic said this is the place to go.” Cage leans his elbows on the bar as well, and watches as Frankie deftly puts his soldiers in a row. Cage shoots the first to catch up, and picks up the second to hold it up for clinking. “To one /helluva/ day, huh?” Melinda's face is still contorted with the burn and gag of shooting tequila, but some incredulousness comes through. She sets down her glass upside down and lets it thump. "Right." Luckily, she doesn't care. She's too busy staring at the bottles lined up behind the counter, the alcohol starting to hit her quickly, given her current state. She does indeed take up her second one when he proposes the toast and shrugs. "Hellufa day. That's for sure. Fuck." And that's her toast. She clinks glasses with Cage and shoots the second glass. "Lost my drinking partner. He's got an actual partner, so it's cool, you know. I'd be all curled up in someone's arms if it were a possibility, but yeah. Figured here would be easy enough to get nice and loaded." “Bad luck for your drinking buddy, good luck for me. I’m in the market for a drinking partner.” Cage shoots the second as well, and sets it down letting out a hiss through his teeth. “Damn, that’s a nice burn. I haven’t had a serious drink since we won the retrial.” He reaches up and rubs at his jaw, taking a moment. Actually, I’m glad I came in here,” Luke says. “This is my kinda place. How’d you find it?” "Blizzard, actually. Got stir crazy as can be and had to get out. It's within walking distance from home and has a really good feel, once you get over the creepy factor." Melinda winks at the barkeep and shrugs, a slight wobble starting to creep into her movements. "Nah, it's not a bad luck thing, It's a win for him. He needs to cuddle his partner and those kids until some of this shit disappears." She finally sets down her second glass and purses her lips. "Hey, Frankie, I'll take a beer too. Corona's fine. You know I'm not picky." Luke decides to let Melinda set the pace, and doesn’t pick up his third yet. Plus, his eyes go wide, and he asks in a hoarse whisper, “Wait, shit - you mean his kids were in... they were in... /Chinatown/?” Obviously he doesn’t want to blurt the whole thing out, so some amount of coding will have to do. “What the /fuck/ were those assholes doing in there?” He lowers his voice to a real whisper, “I mean, I know what a fight ring looks like... But shit, the /implications/...” Cage picks up his third shot after all and sits up a little straighter. “Well, fuck what I said before - to reunited families.” Cage waits for a clink, and downs the tequila in one smooth go. Brief liquor face, and then he’s good again. He does have a relatively sturdy metabolism, but three tequilas is still THREE tequilas. The look Melinda gives him could freeze water. "You're... going to want to be a little less vague." She grabs her third shot as her beer arrives, scowling heavily. "Because what I heard is that you basically suggested that the kids were in Chinatown of their own volition, purposefully engaging in a fight ring." She tosses back the tequila and lets the shot down with a slam. "Now, I know you can't /possibly/ mean that, but I'm exhausted and I'm going to need a little reassurance." "What the f-" Cage is utterly baffled at Melinda's reaction. It looks like her cold eyes actually wound the invincible man. "Are you kidding me?" he says, not bothering with being quiet anymore. "Fucking /collars/ and /cages/. None of those people we pulled out were there by fucking /choice/. What kinda person would even suggest something like that?" Luke Cage would make a terrible poker player. He's as emotionally exhausted as Melinda is physically, but even on his best days he wears his heart on his sleeve. Its pretty obvious he's starting think wanting to 'help' Melinda was a wasted effort. He's stops short of walking out, but his body language is closed off, as he turns to stare at the remaining shot, at a total loss for words. Melinda gives him a long dry look and shakes her head. "Look, dude. Miscommunications happen. Instead of being personally insulted, you could say something like 'oh, wow. That might have sounded funny. Here's what I really meant.' Fuck, you could have even laughed. Now I have butt hurt all over me and I don't like it." She gets to her feet and grabs her last shot and downs it quickly. "I haven't touched the beer. It's on me. Drink a cold one and mellow out and I'll see you around, okay?" She reaches into her back pocket and thumps down a couple twenties for Frankie's time. "Hey," Luke says, soft-voiced again. He shakes his head, still facing the bar. He puts his palms flat on the bar and heaves a sigh. His body language is all about, 'how do I keep doing this?' "Melinda, I was totally out of line. I'm sorry." He shakes his head again, and finally turns on his stool to face her, but doesn't get up. No one needs a 6'4" giant standing over them. He holds his hands out to the side, palms forward. "This temper… I've got a long way to go. And after last night… I'm just raw, you know? I mean, hell, even if you /meant/ to insult me or whatever, I don't have to go off like that." Its clear from his tone as well that he understands now that she didn’t mean to insult him. Over-sensitive Big Guy is Over-sensitive. Luke takes another deep breath, and puts a hand on the bar where Melinda's drinks were. "I lived with a rough crowd for a long time. Its not an excuse. Just a reason. I put on a decent show out here, day to day, but I've had trouble making real friends on the outside. Big surprise, huh?" He looks down at the floor and then back up. "I just… will you stay? Let me make it up to you?" Melinda pauses and looks Cage over as he starts to apologize, lips pursing as she listens and considers, looking more and more tired the longer she stands there. Finally, she exhales a little and deflates, sliding back onto her stool and leaning heavily on the bar. "Okay, fine, but only because no one has apologized to me in a long time. I tend to be a three strike person anyway, so you've got some leeway." “Heh, yeah, it’s a new skill I picked up,” he says, a wry smile indicating his new apologizing power. “Turns out I get a lot of practice at it.” He chuckles, shoots his last tequila to be on the same page again, and makes a face. “Wow... that is something...” He sniffs his now entirely clear nostrils, and picks up his beer to take a sip. He seems a little surprised to not find a lime in the top, but then he remembers, its not that kind of place. “Anyway, I just meant to say I’m glad those kids are home, with family now. Makes the whole shitty night worth it to know it worked out like that, you know?” He takes another sip, and takes a shot at changing the topic. Glancing up at the clock behind the bar, Luke nods at it and says, “Wow. Hey, when’s the last time you ate? Like, real food?” "Um." Well, that stumps Mel for a good long time. "There were donuts at one point. And I feel like I had a sandwich, but I don't honestly remember when that was." She exhales and leans more on the bar surface, finding the beer she so kindly offered to Cage and starts taking a pull off of the liquid bread. "I should probably do that, but I'm not sure what's going to agree with my tequila beer belly." The alcohol is definitely taking effect. "I... I don't know. Maybe... um.... Last time I was here, Dan ordered Mexican, but that was his personal connection." She considers. "Maybe... Food you like." “Well, I eat just about anything,” Cage says, chasing his shooters with another sip of beer. He’s definitely buzzed too, but not nearly as drunk as one would think. Sturdy metabolism, indeed. “I mean, there’s this decent Italian place over by my office, off of Times Square,” He thinks hard, trying to come up with more suggestions through the buzzy fog. “I guess the hotdog guys would have wrapped up by now. Oh, there’s that pizza place too! You’re not a, I mean, are you a vegetarian or anything?” He started to ask the question with some amount of ‘you’re one of those are you?’ but managed to save it. Vegetarians are friends, not food! "Nah, I'm pretty firmly omnivore." Melinda reassures him, smiling a little, booze finally loosening her up. "I don't think I can walk far, is the problem. I'd invite you over to my place, but … well, I know very little about you and I'm due to be incredibly drunk in a short while." Lips purse as she looks Cage over and shrugs sleepily. Thoughtful noises start surfacing, little hms there and mmms as she considers. "And since my judgment is not entirely impaired right now, I should say that you're very attractive, but I am not looking for sex period. Not tonight. I hope that I'm not making an ass out of myself for saying so, but I don't want to drunkenly throw myself at you later and make even bigger ass of myself then." She smiles sweetly and unties her hair to fix the sloppy job the last few hours have made it. "So. Pizza in the Lower East Side. I am sure there are options. Should we... go look?" Luke finds himself on slightly firmer ground at this point. First, Luke has been thoroughly enjoying his freedom in the weeks since the retrial and is relatively well known in the party crowds, especially the places which are friendly to mutants. Second, however, is that Momma Cage didn't raise no scallywag. Ok, so he was roped into a bank robbery a million years ago, but he's never been one to disrespect a woman. He holds up his hands as if Melinda had a gun; except for his broad grin. From the look in his eyes, his buzz is steadily settling towards drunk as well, though he is somewhat less wobbly. "Hey, easy, first, we'd have to be on a date. Second, it'd have to, uh, not be the first." He blinks as if he's lost his train of thought, and then catches it again. "Besides. We're on a mission. Let me... Just..." Luke trails off while he gets his phone out and sends a quick text. "There. Janice is sending a car for us. Then we can make it to Giorgio's." He grins and smiles around at Frankie as well, like Frankie must know Janice. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone is friends. Or that could be the tequila talking. No matter. Luke slides Melinda's cash over, back to her and drops his credit card on the bar. "You give this city alot, Mel. You deserve a night out. On me." Yeah, he's definitely 'loosening up' as well. "Oooh, Mr. Fancy pants has a car service." Melinda jokes, amused. She accepts her cash back and stuffs it in her back pocket. "So. I deserve a night out? How do you know I deserve it? I could be an axe murderer every other day of the week, but become so overwhelmed with guilt, I decide to atone for my sins through community service? OR, am I really atoning? I could be hunting for new victims." She waits for Frankie to return Cage's card before starting to shuffle her way outside, finding herself leaning against his arm as she walks. Hello! "How does anyone really know what another person truly deserves? It's all very arbitrary, if you ask me." And then they are outside, waiting for a car. Cage laughs as they head outside, and puts an arm around Melinda’s shoulders, to steady both of them, by the looks of things. “Well shit, that’s true. /Could/ be an axe murderer.” He puts his free hand against a lamppost for further structural support and pretends to think the quandary over. “Well, we’ll just have to base it on yesterday then. You sure as hell deserve a night out after that, and you know what? So do I!” Cage grins over at her, very nearly causing A Moment, but its avoided partially by his own cluelessness, but also by the sleek black Lincoln Town Car pulling up at the curb. There’s a brief exchange between Cage and the driver, making sure this is the right match, and in they go, Luke holding the door for Melinda. And then they’re off for an evening of greasy food before Melinda is dropped off at her front door, and Cage heads home as well, as promised.