1296/You Owe Me A Beer

You Owe Me A Beer
Date of Scene:	04 July 2017
Location:	Manhattan
Synopsis:	Grace meets up with Ares, after she helped him with his fight in Phobos & makes him pay up.
Cast of Characters:	Grace Choi, Ares

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Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace wasn't the type to call Ares, and harass him. But, she knew the bar he would be at. Or, eventually show up at. She knew Ares wasn't going to run. So she gave it a few days, until she could make her way back from Chaney's. And, back from Blackhawk Island. That little trip had been ... interesting.
    Grace now lounges in the back of the bar, a stack of money off to one side, and a few men in the bar rubbing their arms, wrists, or looking in a surly manner at Grace. But, no broken arms. Or bloody faces.

Ares has posed:
    The days had passed since Phobos' death. The repercussions were still rippling through his life and the lives of others. No longer was he safe from the gaze of the Gods, for when the God of Fear and War had fallen... all knew who it was who took his life. Any day now there could be messengers, monsters, menaces all threatening to do him and his ill. Yet the man known as John Aaron had lived with such a threat hanging over him for a long time. Now, with matters somewhat more int he open... it almost felt liberating.
    As liberating as a friend who had found out the secret of his life. A friend who did not blink at the moment in the face of danger and who gave of herself in the fight against those who stood against the man who had been a god. She had been gifted a weapon befitting one such as her. Yet still these last few days had been about meeting with those who had aided him...
    And making matters right.
    With Grace Choi, that might just be done with the purchase of a beer.
    She's there in the room, her table, her money, and her admirers/enviers who watch her with a clear regard equal for the tall woman and the tall stack of benjamins. She's in a good place to gauge who comes in through the door and when the tall shadow darkens the doorway it might only take a moment or two for her to catch sight of him. John Aaron, formerly Ares, the tall (though not as tall as her) construction worker with a small smile on the corner of his mouth as he scans the room at first as he makes his way through the crowd.

Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace extends a hand to John, to gesture towards the open chair. In her fingers, oddly, now that he's closer, she can see that she has a very odd nail between her fingers that she is rolling, turning over, again and again, almost as if habitually. She doesn't even seem to be doing it. The hammer? Isn't anywhere around, by all accounts.
    "You're late," she tells him, casually, even though they didn't have any sort of assigned time to meet. The last time she'd seen him, or talked to him, afterall, was when he gave her the go-ahead to attack Phobos. Then, casually, as if none of that had happened, she simply tips back the rest of her beer and waits for John to sit down. As if they'd talked just the other day, and had planned to meet here.

Ares has posed:
    "Not like you were waiting on me," John says as he closes the distance, takes a seat by crossing a leg over the back and settling in, then gestures to a server for a drink of his own, whatever Grace is having. But with that done he turns back towards the tall Amazon and cocks his head to the side, "You're looking good."
    He shifts to the side and rests one arm on the tabletop, leaning forwards a touch and glances at the nail, then back to her. No question on it yet, but then he murmurs. "I wanted to thank you for your help the other day."

Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace, oddly, bears no scars, or even marks of the wounds she endured, of the fragmented metal that had been blasted into her flesh. She takes the money on the table - obviously it'd been a betting pool and whomever could 'beat' Grace would've taken the pot. But nobody could. Or did. She sets it between herself, and Ares, just off to the side. Then, she smiles briefly. "Looked like you needed some help. Besides. It's not everyday my friends fall out in front of me from the sky. Had to do something. Just don't expect me to go put on some spandex and run around looking for crimes to stop, yeah?"
    The nail, long, and old looking, looking perhaps rusted - or to Ares trained eye who would recognize the discoloration for what it was (dried blood), continues to be turned over in her fingers like a fidget toy. She nods, "Besides. You're buying me a beer. So, we're even."

Ares has posed:
    "Alright," John eyes her sidelong then holds up a finger, "But just one. I'm onta you, Choi." But she can probably see the smile in his eyes and in the sound of his words if not on his lips. He then turns to the side and it's at that moment that the waitress comes by with his own beer. He takes a moment to tell her for another round before he thanks her and she heads off.
    Looking back her way he then says, "Though, did you have to tell Zinda?" He holds up a hand as if to stay any protest, "I mean, I don't really begrudge it, she was gonna figure it out eventually anyways. Just..." He shakes his head, "I hated not having the answers to all the questions she asked."
    A glance is spared to some of the men who are off across the way, still glaring at their table and the pile of money. He leans forwards and grabs an extra chair so he can sprawl a bit and prop his leg up on its seat.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Figured she already knew," Grace says, honestly, "Since you were hanging around her all the time like you were her best friend, or something. She invited me to join the Blackhawks, I asked her if she was inviting you, too. Figured she would've." It's all logical, to her, the way the events played out.
    She adds, "I don't know. I think there's some comfort in knowing folks like you don't have all the answers. Be kind of shitty, if you did, and weren't sharing them." And when her beer arrives, she uncaps it. Asks, "Want a try at the pot?"
    Yes. Grace just asked the God of War if he wants to arm-wrestle her. Grace has no scruples.

Ares has posed:
    "I wouldn't want to hurt you," He says that absently, unthinking as what Grace says earlier has his attention. His brow is furrowed as he looks away, frowning then he nods to himself as if what the woman said makes sense. "You're right though, that would be a more reprehensible deed." His tone of voice slips subtly as his thoughts wander, but then he comes back to the here and now and meets her gaze.
    "Did you join the Blackhawks? That could do some good. She could use you." He scritches a fingertip along the curve of his chin as if considering her anew, but then remembers to thank the waitress and does so. He takes his own beer from the table and pops the top, tilting the bottle back to take a pull.

Grace Choi has posed:
    Grace humphs a breath of air, before pocketing the money. She knows Ares is probably right, considering she's a product -of- Gods like him. But, that doesn't mean she wouldn't have liked to have tried. The money is pocketed with her drinking hand, while the other hand cotninues to play with the odd nail.
    "Don't know, yet. Probably," she admits. "Just got back from a trip to South America. Some -fucked up- shit going down, down there. Probably would've gotten their asses handed to them if I weren't down there with them."
    Then, she pauses with her nail-fidgeting. She tells Ares, "Pulled this out of some zombie-meta's head that was fighting me. His goddamn eye socket, to be precise. Whole head was sewed up like some Freddy Kruger Nightmare Doll. And some gigantic magic-space spider was puppeting him like the corpse was Pinoccho. Didn't see it, until I'd pulled the nail out."
    She doesn't ask him what it was. Doesn't even ask him to look at the nail. She simply says, "I fucking hate magic shit."

Ares has posed:
    Brown eyes meet hers and he smiles a faint apology towards her, "Perhaps another time without so many witnesses. Or we can find some other test to put ourselves against each other." With that he gives a nod as he listens to her tale, his brow furrowing as she speaks of the zombie being. But it's at the last when he finds himself speaking.
    "I too dislike the magical in nature," John's voice takes on a subtle accent there for a moment, but then he scritches a fingertip along his chin again thoughtfully. "Where was this? South America? Where exactly, if I may ask?" He shifts to the side in his chair, his foot sliding off of the seat next to him.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Deal," agrees Grace. She frowns at the oddity of Ares' question, noting, "Honestly didn't pay that much attention. We went down to meet the Governer, and some other faction killed him. We fought them off. Fought the craz metas and spiders off. Got out of there. You'd have to ask Zinda what country it was. Think probably Bolivia? Not sure." She shrugs, then asks, "Why does it matter? You know something? Bastard spider ran away after we ruined it's game. Apparently didn't want to stay and let me rip it's arms off, and shove them down it's gullet."

Ares has posed:
    "Mm, stories. Probably nothing. The Caribbean has tales of locking one to one's will with the aid of some implements meant to bind the soul." He takes up his drink again and takes a long pull, swallowing twice before setting it down with a faint sound of approval. "Haven't heard of it being done with a nail, however. But in magical rituals the details can be substituted with the esoteric often."
    At that, however, he gestures to the side as if it was all nonsense. Which, most likely, it is. He glances sidelong at her and murmurs, "Was it just you and Zinda, or did Elliot go as well? She is still very green for field work, I had thought."

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Me, Dinah, Elliot, and Zinda." Grace smiles, sharply. "We kicked some major ass. Was a good fight. Not what we expeted, but a good fight. Got a decent bit of cash out of it," she admits, freely advertising to Ares she's not all in it for charity. Grace, likely, will never be one of those heroes motivated by the desire for Justice or Redemption or anything else so noble. "So, I'll probably stick with it another time or two. See where it's all headed. Dinah and I made some good partners. Girl has some moves. Elliot's damn smart. Green, maybe. But damn smart."

Ares has posed:
    John nods and then murmurs, "Dinah is an exceptional martial artist, one of the best in the world I would wager." He crosses his arms over his chest and hrms thoughtfully for a moment, then shakes his head as he again tilts his bottle back, draining it with a few more swallows so that he can move on to his second bottle that was already brought.
    Turning back to her, he smiles a bit. "You being on the team with them is a good thing. They'll be more successful." He flicks a finger against the glass of the bottle, causing it to clink once faintly. "I am not sure if I'm going to continue my employment there. It would seem strange to be doing what I normally do amongst people who know of my past." His nose crinkles slightly as if the possibility unsettled him somehow.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Do whatever the hell makes you happy. It's not like Zinda or I am going to go telling everyone. Hell, I wouldn't have even mentioned it to Zinda if she hadn't brought up the Blackhawk's offer to me. And only then because I knew you. Not like she's the type to go yakking about someone else's secrets."
    She pauses, finishing off her beer, and commenting casually, "That's why half this hero crap is bullshit. Everyone with a secret identity. Goes back to the proverb that the only secret that can be kept is one between two people, and if one of them is dead. Or, however they say it."

Ares has posed:
    "That's kind of you, I appreciate your discretion." John looks aside, another pull of his beer before he murmurs. "I mainly attempt to maintain my current role in life because I would have my son grow up with as stable a life as possible." His brow knits together, then he shakes his head. "I'm afraid that may no longer be possible, but I intend for him to have it as long as possible.
    Then he looks back, "But I agree with you, heroes usually are self-important assholes more concerned with their own momentary amusement than any true desire to do good. Altruism on their own terms." He grimaces and makes a mildly rude grunt of a sound.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "If he's your kid, I'm sure he'll be fine," Grace suggests, honestly. "Either people will leave him alone, knowing he's yours, or they'll try to fuck with him and you'll kick his ass, and he'll learn to be a man and bone up and kick some ass as well. Afterall," she suggests, dryly, "If I'm only half-Amazon and am built like I am, I imagine that your kid will come into his own when he's ready. I did."
    She presumes, apparently, by her statement that John has always known what she was. Since he's of that same pantheon. The trials of Ares after most of the Greek Myths did not pass down to the Bana's, or make it's way into Grace's lore and understanding of Amazonian history.

Ares has posed:
    "Fair warning," John gestures with the bottle towards her, "Most of the Amazons I know have a pretty big mad on for me." He tilts the bottle back again and takes a long drink then sets the empty down causing it to clink as it almost tips over... but not quite. Turning back towards her he gives her a nod, "Gets around you're spending time with that old bastard Ares, and they'll take your ass straight off the Christmas card list."
    He rests his hands on the table and seems about ready to push his chair out from under it. "But, in all earnestness, Grace." He looks at her seriously, brow furrowed and his gaze sombre. "Thank you, for your aid, your friendship, and yes even your affection." He plants a fist on the table with a /whumpf!/ causing the bottles to jounce once as he starts to rise.

Grace Choi has posed:
    "Haven't met any other Amazons, so I guess I don't give a shit about that, either," Grace counters. And then, before she can say anything else, she's getting kissed. Hard. She reaches up a hand to snare inside Ares' hair, not even hesitating. Maybe the fact he is the God of War just makes it hotter than it was when they made out that one time a few weeks ago. Maybe Grace just doesn't even give a shit about him being the God of War. Hard to tell.
    But, she's not holding back. She kisses back, just as hard, and fierce.

Ares has posed:
    His own hand finds a handhold in those red curls, his lips parting and their kiss becoming this almost animalistic wild thing of exploration and low level rumblings of shared breath that might sound like two predators growling at each other viciously. His other hand on the table and their heads turned just so, his nostrils flare as he takes in the heady scent of this wild amazon woman. It's a long kiss, and most likely causes the men who had been watching to suddenly look on agape.
    And then the kiss breaks after a small bite shared between them. A second... two is spent recovering his breath, and then he rises and says, "Take care of yourself, Grace." At that he turns and starts to walk towards the door, a few bills tossed on the table for the tab.