12638/Bucket List: Harry's Hideaway

Bucket List: Harry's Hideaway
Date of Scene:	11 January 2021
Location:	Harry's Hideaway (Bar), Salem Centre
Synopsis:	Sazzerock! Juke Box Hero! Kung Fu Fighting!
Cast of Characters:	Wolverine, Archangel, Nightingale

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Wolverine has posed:
"Awww... come on, Harry... enough of this Foreigner Juke Box Hero bullshit... would it kill ya to play a l'il Hank Williams every once and a while?"

As greetings go, it comes across as more of a non-sequitur, but anybody who's been following the yearslong argument between Logan and Harry would be able to follow the thread.

Looking a bit paler, sicker, and possibly even older than usual, a short Canadian bellies up to the bar in his usual 'off duty' ensemble of a dirty old cowboy hat, a fur-lined leather jacket, and whatever else they had at the local Heavily-Discounted Western Outlet. The short hairy Canadian has been the bane of every 'All You Can Eat' special that Harry's Hideaway has ever run, and immediately attracts a semi-serious stink eye from the bar's proprietor.

"That's a great idea, Logan. That way I'll lose ALL of my customers, not just the ones that get stuck sittin' next to your sorry ass. Now, let me guess, you'll be having the same yellow piss you always drink?"

Grumbling, but with a smile, the Canadian points at the refrigerator behind the bar. The bottom rack of the refrigerator is completely full of cheap Canadian beer, which nobody else ever seems to order.

"See you've got 'em cold this time. First time for everything..."

Archangel has posed:
Harry's has been a hangout for the various occupants of Xavier's since they day they could legally enter, so Warren's presence at the bar is no surprise. The fact he is drinking low-grade rot-gut instead of something off the top shelf may cause people that know the rich-kid a moment of confusion, but there he is with a glass and a bottle at the bar doing his best to try and wash away the cares of the world one amber liquid filled glass at a time. Publicly outed long ago, the mutant isn't bothering trying to hide those white-feathered wings of his like he may have done once upon a time, making no mistake who it is sitting at the bar in question.

Hearing the familiar gruff of Logan, Warren turns to face the aged mutant, lifting a glass in greeting.

"Logan. Sure you should be out of bed?"

Wolverine has posed:
With an open bottle of Molson in his hand, the X-Men's resident curmudgeon looks very much in his element. And as a frequent drinker here at the Hideaway (there's a picture on the wall of him defeating the Nuclear Sauce Wings Challenge back in '27), he's mostly accepted despite his poor taste and... eccentricities.

One of the only bars in the world where bikers don't try to beat him up as soon as he sits down.

He looks a bit hesitant to chug the bottle though, until he hears the familiar voice of the teammate with which he probably has the very least in common.

Normally he'd have been able to smell him before he even came into the bar, but he seems legitimately surprised that he's here.

"Probably not... but nappin' don't seem to be fixin' me. So... here's to tryin' a different science experiment!"

He holds the bottle up, and chugs it as quickly as he can.

Archangel has posed:
Warren smirks at Logan's response, tossing back the liquid in his own glass before setting to refill it again as he shifts in his chair to face the smaller man.

"Let me guess, going to find out exactly what being rip-roaring drunk actually feels like? Or are you going all in for passed out drunk? You going for quantity or experience, because we can get you there faster with something harder."

Pouring his next, Warren tosses it back as well and sets the glass down onto the counter top, sliding it and the bottle down Logan's way, motioning to Harry for a replacement of his own.

"What have they tried so far?"

Wolverine has posed:
"Hell, I've been -BRAAAAAP!- plenty drunk before..."

Logan slams the empty bottle down on the bar, getting a roll of the eyes from Harry. He wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his semi-grimy jacket. Semi-grimy not because it's ever been cleaned, but because he tends to go through them so often that they rarely get dirty. The last one was lost in a protest. The one before... ninja-related accident.

"But every time I drink one of you scented moisturizer-wearing X-Men under the table, I always get accusations of CHEATIN', on account of my rugged constitution. So... I figger... I'll use this opportunity, get myself a nice baseline..."

Another beer is set before him, and he nods his thanks.

"... so's I'll know how much of a handicap to give people when my healin' factor comes back."

Archangel has posed:
"Really?," questions Warren as the blonde mutant arches a brow. "I didn't honestly think you could get drunk. Figured that healing factor of yours would keep you stone cold sober except if you were chugging straight Everclear, and even that it wouldn't last more than a minute. As it is, I have to compensate for my own."

Warren fixes himself another shot as he watches Logan slam back the first beer. He smirks a rich-boy smirk towards his teammate before tossing his own dirnk back like the others. He looks to Harry, motioning over to Logan with a wave of his hand.

"Put him on my tab...and I will cover the damages. This should be interesting."

Turning fully now to face Logan with renewed interest, the billionaire leans back against the bar folding his arms, wings acting as an overly large and padded high-back, "Ok. Let's see what you got."

Wolverine has posed:
"Mighty generous of you to spend your dad's money like that..."

Leaning back, Logan chugs another beer about as enthusiastically as he always does, his lips remaining on the bottle until there's nothing left, with only minimal overflow onto his stubblier than usual chin.

"But I -BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!-... uh... don't plan to damage nothin'... -hhh-bruuuuup!-... 'less somebody gets some big ideas... thinks now'd be a good time to pick a fight with Ol' Logan..."

He eyes Harry suspiciously, then turns to look over his shoulder at the other scattered patrons in the bar. It's not super busy, and there don't appear to be any ninjas in attendance.

But then, there wouldn't APPEAR to be any, would there?

"What's this stuff you're drinkin'? Don't look like any wheatgrass shot I've ever seen..."

Archangel has posed:
Warren smirks again at Logan's quip, just raising his glass in a salute of sorts towards the older mutant.

"At least some of it is mine now. Has to be since the numbers in the account are still going up, not down."

The shot is taken, the glass set down onto the bar as he moves to look at the bottle.

"Honestly, I don't have a clue. Something amber and strong with a distinct smoky oak taste. Probably something you would like if you weren't drinking water. When you decide to grow up and become and adult you should try it."

Warren looks around at the other patrons in the bar, seeming to agree on the lack of ninjas. A few bikers cast glances over towards the pair, but remain in their seats for now.

"Sazerac or something."

Wolverine has posed:
"Sazzawhutnow?"

Ever suspicious of anything that he can't spell, the grouchy Canadian looks up at the winged mutant, one of his subtly graying eyebrows arched enough to accent his forehead wrinkles.

"If YOU can handle it, I bet it tastes like melted candy... barkeep!"

Harry does not like being called barkeep, but comes when he's called anyway.

"Think I'll have me a Sazzarock, please and thank you. And hurry it up, ya pot-bellied sumbitch, I gotta show this fancy boy what's what!"

The poor, put-upon bartender/proprietor looks somewhat evilly at Warren. Bad enough trying to keep up with Logan's drinking when it only requires opening a bottle or pouring draught into a frosted mug. But if he starts getting into the whiskey there's almost certain to be a lengthy cleanup for someone. Most likely Harry.

Archangel has posed:
"Sazerac," Warren repeats. "Rye whiskey. I know you Cannucks have whiskey up there in that frozen tundra you call a country, Logan. Just because you palate hasn't evolved over greatly watered down fermented wheat doesn't mean the world hasn't gone past you, Grandpa."

Warren give Harry a sympathetic look, shrugging a shoulder which causes one of the wings to ruffle out slightly. "I did say I would pay for the damages, Harry. You know I am good for it."

Nightingale has posed:
     To see Logan having a beer or three was nothing unusual, even on campus. To see him in this state? That was something else entirely. Shannon had finally plucked up the courage to venture into Harry's, only to be greeted with a sight she never thought possible.

     Logan, nearly drunk.

     One finely arched golden brow flicks upwards, and she just facepalms. Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here.

     But then again, when was she ever one to abandon hope?

     With only two familiar souls present, she moves on over to where they are indulging, in jeans, caramel suede boots, a dove grey turtleneck sweater, and her light blue helmet under one arm. "Hi, you two," she says, smiling at them both.

Wolverine has posed:
"I'll try yer fancy sippin' whiskey... sure it gets great reviews on the internet."

Logan sniffs the little glass a few times, though he gets way less feedback than normal. Apparently, it doesn't smell bad, but it's not like Logan has ever been especially picky about beer or whiskey.

Downing it quickly, he slams the shot glass down on the table, upside down. Harry has stopped asking him not to do that by now.

The feral Canadian actually visibly starts, as if something got the drop on him. He tries to play it off, but seems relieved that it's only Shannon.

"Oh... hey there... lookit Warren, 's the other Precious Moments figure. 'M gonna put you both on my mantel."

Hey, he did say that he was a grandpa, after all.

Archangel has posed:
Warren smirks again. Seems to be the constant facial expression he has when dealing with Logan in a social setting.

"I'm shocked you even know what the word internet means, let alone the fact you were able to use it in a complete sentence like that. Those tutorials really have been paying off for you! Way to go Logan! And people say you can't teach old dogs new tricks..."

Shannon gets a nod, though his eyes flicker from the young mutant to the door and back. One thing about Harry's, lack of ID checks. He shrugs a shoulder, muttering out a "I won't tell if you won't," to the young woman as he flashes her a wink and a smile before turning back to this evening's entertainment.

"You know, I always knew you had a soft spot for figures like that. Little Hummel figures and the like. Bet you even have a stash of Beanie Babies in that cabin of yours."

Nightingale has posed:
     "What aren't we telling? I didn't hear anything." is Shannon's reply to Warren, looking innocent as the day is long. Apparently, that innocence -does- extend to her drinking habits, because she does indeed order a beer.

     A root beer.

     Taking a seat at the bar roughly in the vicinity of the two, she cracks a bit of a smile. "Beanie Babies? Really? Furbys are the way to go, really." It's difficult to resist a little bit of a chuckle, a rare opportunity to poke a little good-natured fun at Logan. "Seriously, though... how are you both doing?"

Wolverine has posed:
"Hey now... some of them Hummel's are collectible. Not alla us can afford to use Fabberjay eggs as a dadburned ball pit..."

Harry is used to refilling Logan's glasses as soon as they're empty, and since nobody bothered to tell him that three of the mutants have been depowered and therefore they and the entire team are more vulnerable than usual... he keeps pouring.

Apparently Logan likes the Sazerac enough to stick with it.

"How's HE doing? Lookit 'im. He's handsome and rich. Me, on the other hand..."

Logan swiftly downs the shot of whiskey.

"... I'm just handsome."

Archangel has posed:
That last reply actually gets Warren to crack a smile, "I don't know about handsome, Logan. Rugged for sure. Maybe even ruggedly handsome for some. Eh, what the hell. I'll give it to you, why not. I'm feeling generous today."

The winged mutant shifts his gaze to the other former-winged non-mutant, "Well enough. I'm surprised you are out and about with everything that happened. You seem to be taking it all in stride. Has Hank said anything about a cure for...the cure? For both your sakes."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Well, it's good to see he's still as modest as ever."

     Shannon just chuckles, curling her slender fingers around the glass as it's slid down the bar to her, raising the soda in salute to both Warren and Logan. "I could hide and be afraid, or I could grow a spine and flip the bird to the jackasses that used the Cure as a weapon and keep on living."

     She purses her lips a little bit, and shakes her head. "No word yet. I've tried leaving messages for him, but I think he's probably taking this the hardest out of all of us."

Wolverine has posed:
"You two really gotta sit in on a few of Summers' InfoSec classes... there might be ninjas in this dump."

Logan looks suspiciously at Harry, but Harry doesn't look back. This doesn't answer the question of whether he is or isn't a ninja definitively.

"You know what I say though? Screw it. That's my philosophy... if we die horribly, this craphill planet is gonna keep on spinnin' anyway, and somebody else'll be here to drink the booze."

Speaking of drinking the booze, Harry suddenly refills Logan's shot glass. A bit like a ninja...

Polishing it off quickly, Logan is starting to get a bit bleary-eyed. Not good and drunk yet, but it looks like the booze is about to sneak up on him. Like a ninja.

"And screw this place. If I gotta hear one more song from the 70's I'm gonna... you know what? Let's go ride our motorcycles! Did you two bring motorcycles or..."

He looks back and forth between the two of them, seemingly answering his own question.

"Well, I'm gonna go ride mine, anyways."

Archangel has posed:
Warren glances about the bar, looking at all the supposed ninjas and then back to Logan, "The only ninjas in Harry's are the ones in that Kung Fu Fighting song he has on the jukebox," Warren scoffs as he thumbs in the direction of the jukebox. "But yeah, point taken."

Warren pulls out his money clip from his pocket, slips off a few bills and tosses them onto the bar for Harry, giving the bartender the signal to cut Logan off from drinking anymore. Even if they don't get along the best, Logan is still a teammate after all.

"Yeah, Logan, I think that might be a bad idea..." Warren says, standing as he looks to the older mutant. "You're impaired, and I don't want to see you wrap yourself around a tree, or worse wrap someone else around a tree. Maybe I should fly you home. We can get your bike later."

Warren looks to Shannon to back him up, "Unless you want to drive him." Assuming she brought a car since...'cured'.

Nightingale has posed:
     "Ummmm... Logan, you sure that's such a great idea? I mean, just saying... but you've had a few, and for once it's actually showing." Shannon shoots a look of concern to Warren, then back to Logan. "Come on, let Warren fly you home. I've just got my Vespa out there. And really... I don't want to see one of the best friends I've got wrapped around a tree or something"

     The next look to Warren is the stink-eye, which melts into something of a smile. "You know I'm going to have that song stuck in my head for days, right? I will have my revenge, never you fear."

Wolverine has posed:
"Impaired!? I'll show you impaired ya..."

Logan gets up to his feet, though he actually gets shorter once he gets off of the barstool. It's only when he's standing though that he realizes that his legs are, in fact, a little bit wobbly.

"Well... huh... what was that, five? Thought I'd at least make it to nineteen before I felt it."

Looks like Depowered Logan is a relatively cheap date, who'd have thunk it?

"Awright, awright... you squares have raised some decent points..."

Pointing at his glass again with one hand, Logan fishes around in the pocket of his jacket with the other. Eventually, the jingle of a keyring with only one key can be heard, and he tosses it to Shannon.

"I'll be damned if I'll be 'flown' anywhere. The kids'll put pictures up on the internet. Yer drivin' me home, little lady, but we're taking my bike!"

No time like the present to learn, right?

Either way, it's apparently not up for debate. Downing one final drink for the road, Logan makes his way to the door, not quite stumbling, but clearly feeling it more than he has in a long time.

Archangel has posed:
Warren watches Logan head outside, shaking his head as he casts a glance over to Shannon.

"Can you drive his bike, or do I just walk out and grab him and suffer the consequences later? I'm almost voting for the later just so you can take pictures..."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Let the man have his dignity," Shannon replies, cracking a smile. "That little Vespa out there may look small but she's got it where it counts. Only thing, though, if you'd be willing to bring it home? Please?" Whereas Logan tossed her the keys to his bike, she tosses Warren the ones to her Vespa. "She rides as fast as I used to fly, so top speed of a little over 75."

     Indeed, no time like the present.

     Really, what could -possibly- go wrong? How different were the two bikes, really?