2465/Something Wicked This Way Comes

Something Wicked This Way Comes
Date of Scene:	16 September 2017
Location:	New York City
Synopsis:	Ares and Shulkie are enjoying a night at a towny bar when Castiel comes in
Cast of Characters:	Ares, Castiel, She-Hulk

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Ares has posed:
    The Godsend is a towny bar that masquerades on the weekends as a trendy hip pseudo dive dig where the tourists come by, or the hedge fund managers, or the local elite. On the weekends there'll be live bands standing in the chicken-wire caged stage, and the honkytonk sound system is replaced with the latest pop titles. Not even to mention that prices are almost doubled for that particular crowd. But the people who visit there enjoy the large dance floor and the sweeping four aisles of booths that provide seating for whomever is inclined to brave the place...
    But it's during the week that the place comes back to its roots. When it's reclaimed by the folks who have gone there for the last seven years and who all just so happen to belong to Local 477 Builders Union of America. Usually they live it up after the whistle blows, drinking, carousing, enjoying the company of their brethren. Sometimes it goes wild, and there's even been a fist fight or two in their history but always with the brothers of the union reconciling before closing time.
    Tonight is just one such a night, with the men of the late shift coming in and getting their drink on. Five tables are all occupied by the men, some even having their construction helmets upon the tabletop, others just chattering away while some old country singer twangs his way through a ballad about the passing of his dog and his wife, arguably more affected by the loss of his canine.
    Yet tonight... some of them are a bit muted as there's a celebrity in their midst. Four of the men at the table are sitting there leaning forwards as they observe the green woman who's joined them even as their friend John Aaron lounges in another seat right nearby.
    "So..." One of them starts.
    "Yer uh," Another continues.
    "Superhero, huh?" The last asks.
    But Freddy, the youngest of the team is all sorts of impressed, "What's it like bein' part of the FF, lady?"

Castiel has posed:
The Godsend. Really, that's what made him stop. He'd been wandering bars and back alley dives for.. well, time really hadn't impressed itself upon him yet. It seemed a thing other people worried about. Like eating. And sleeping. Other things that humans seemed wont to do, and slowly he was learning he needed to make an effort at in order to fit in. He could still remember the smile upon Aha- Angela's face, he corrected himself silently, as she told him he stuck out like a sore thumb. He still wasn't sure what a sore thumb had to do with fitting in, but he was trying. And with a name like The Godsend, it was like a message. Here. Here's where you want to be next. That.. and there was something in the air. Slightly acrid. Like woodsmoke. And bitter. Almost the tang of blood. With deliberate, and solemn purpose, Castiel opened the door to the Godsend and stepped inside.

She-Hulk has posed:
    For her part, Shulkie is trying to blend in. She's wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that proclaims Local 477 across the front with their creedo. Technically, it's not her shirt but she has claimed it as her own. She could be wearing a burlap sack for all the fellows at the table have noticed. It's the green thing that always takes priority with people. Being a superhero has its pluses and minuses.
    She gives a bright smile to the four men, not minding the questions. Another hazard of being what she is. "You can call me Jen," she says to Freddy first before addressing his actual query. "It's great being with them. They are really as amazing as they seem. Good people on top of being heroes. Susan is my best friend as well as my teammate."
    She grins and leans forward to whisper conspiratorally, as though she is sharing some major secret. "Just don't get between Johnny and Ben when they're figthing. Unless you want a girder to the head. It's not a good time."

Ares has posed:
    The first thing that assaults one when they come into the bar during the week is the smell and the sound. The hit of cigarette smoke is there, so rare in the city, but there's also the rumble of the crowd and the tinny sound of the music. It leads to a rush of sensation that most take a moment to acclimate to even as they slip past the bar itself. To newcomers the tender gives a nod even as he tends to the other customers at the bar.
    At a glance the place has little of remark worthy of acclaim, especially to a being able to perceive the world in such a unique way. Mundanity upon mundanity is seen, what with the pseudo decor and chotzkis that make up the design of the place. But something within that room might tantalize the senses of an otherworldly being...
    Perhaps it's at that table with the people gathered. Perhaps it's even that green woman?
    Or perhaps it's at the table the fellow beside her. He's tall, and built powerfully though assuredly there are others who surpass him in such matters. He's wearing much the same as the other men, with his blue jeans, and flannel shirt. A yellow construction helmet hangs off the loop of a backpack that is in turn dangling from the back of his chair. He's holding a mug of beer and smirking to himself even as the super heroine is traversing the obstacle course that is meeting his friends.
    "See that's crazy. I mean..." The guy looks over to his buddies. "Hard to imagine you people as like real folks, ya know?"
    Freddy smirks and then he says, "Yeah, you seem like all sortsa celebrities but bigger."
    "But..." One of the older guys, grey-haired and gap-toothed, leans to the side, gesturing with his mug of beer. "The thing we all gotta know, what in god's green earth are ya doin' with this bum?"

Castiel has posed:
Castiel pauses just inside the doorway, the wooden thing closing behind him with the usual soft thunk of such things, silent witness to a litany of bodies coming to and fro, and seemingly more content with the weekday crowd, so that the thunk is softer and warmer than it might be on the weekend. If he notices the nod from the bartender, Castiel doesn't show it, his blue eyes taking in the room as it peeks out of blue-grey curls of cigarette smoke. The man's nostrils twitching - perhaps in memory of a vice-riddled past. Or perhaps it's what's across the room, hidden in plain sight. He, himself, might stick out like a sore thumb, but to those who can perceive such things, the man beside the hulking green lady is a glowing beacon. It's then, and only then, that Castiel shuffles forward, his shoulders a hunch in his trenchcoat, stopping only when he arrives at the table where the two sit. "There are empty chairs at your table." The words soft and gravelly, and without preamble, sufficing as a request to join the pair.

She-Hulk has posed:
    That gets another laugh from Shulkie as she shakes her head. "We're all regular folk. Put our pants on the same way. Well, most of us that don't have extra appendages. Like a good beer after a hard day at work, long walks on beaches, the whole shebang." She picks up her own mug of beer as an example and is about to take a drink when that last question comes through to her brain. She presses her lips together tightly. Her green eyes flash with amusement as she glances over at John. He knows her well enough now to realize she's trying to keep from saying something that they might regret.
    He also knows her well enough to know she will fail this struggle.
    Her amused gaze is shifted back to the older man and she leans back in her chair. She makes a show of moving her free hand to the side and lays it boldly on John's thigh. "Well seeing as you're friends and all, I can tell you the truth. I'm just using him for sex."
    Cue the arrival of an Angel of the Lord at that precise moment. Her amused gaze shifts to Castiel as he makes his observation about the open seats. She glances to one of them. "Feel free to join us."

Ares has posed:
    As for the good fellow known as John Aaron he's been sort of smirking and looking around the room, acting like he's not too into the conversation to be actively listening. After all he's expecting a fair amount of ribbing from the guys. Sure he had tried to dissuade Jen from coming along with him, but once she heard he was going to be meeting some of the fellas... well it's hard to deny her sometimes.
    Be that as it may, however, sometimes he's still caught off guard by the woman. Especially by that one comment as he had been in mid-drink of his beer and when she leans over and pats him and then blithely brings up that topic... well he doesn't quite spit take but he does choke for a moment on his beer and the legs of his chair that he'd been leaning back in thump back to the ground with a loud thud.
    Of course that's the moment when Castiel wanders over and the tall man's attention is drawn to the side, even as his friends all laugh uproariously at the woman's quip. John smirks sidelong first at Jen, then at the men and points at them warningly as if daring them to keep on laughing... which they do.
    But then those brown eyes of his fall heavily upon Castiel, carrying with it all the weight of regard that comes from a being such as he. They narrow, expression shifting away from the lightly amused and even a touch embarrassed look... to something wary.
    Angels. Never are they bearers of good news. Oh they'll say it's good news. But it'll be from their point of view which is rarely, if ever, a positive for the people who actually spend their time down on the mudball. Ares grimaces a touch and then pushes the chair out with the toe of his work boot.
    "Sit." He says, that voice a low rumble.
    Then it's to the other construction workers that he says, "Excuse me, gentlemen. I require privacy for the moment."
    For some reason he asks this of them now, yet that tone of voice he uses brooks no argument. And it's strange that they actually do nod and slide their own chairs back, moving off to join the rest of the workers.

Castiel has posed:
    Others might have found the woman's comment and jokingly possessive pat upon John Aaron's thigh amusing, and indeed, the men at the tables laugh, but not Castiel. He pauses a moment, head tilted fractionally, as though trying to place a thing. A word. A phrase. A meaning. And just when the corners of his lips turn up in mirth, heralding a short, abrupt laugh, he's the only one laughing. The table suddenly vacated but for the pair, leaving him standing there with not one, but two invitations to sit.
    He reaches for one of the newly vacated seats and pulls it out, slipping into it with an ease and grace that belies the body he inhabits, remembering only at the last moment who and what he is supposed to be, ending with a sudden thump of rear into the chair. Elbows leaned on the table as he regards each in turn.
    "You, I do not know," he tells Shulkie. Though he nods, much as if filing her presence away for future use.
    Then he turns to John. "You, I do."

She-Hulk has posed:
    That's a first. Shulkie's brows lift in surprise but the amused expression never leaves her face. She looks over Castiel curiously, trying to figure out how he might know John Aaron. Or is it the alter ego that he knows? Which would be rather intriguing snice she's met no one from that particular side of John's life. Not that she wants to. She's read mythology. No thanks.
    She sets down her beer and leans back in her seat comfortably. Her hand slides away from John's thigh and she lays it in her own lap as she shifts her seat backwards a bit. Enough she can get up easily or flip a table, should it become necessary.
    John's reactions are leading to her own although to the outsider looking in, there is no telling that she's getting ready for action if it comes to that.

Ares has posed:
    A grunt comes from him as he turns to the side, enough to face the angellic head on. His left hand rests upon the tabletop, blunt fingertips drumming a faint rhythm upon the surface as he eyes the unwinged celestial. A tilt of his head to the side is given, but then he murmurs, "Aye, I am known to the host, to the fallen, to those who stand at the side of the eternal who claims to be the one."
    Ever a conflagration had between the Olympians and what other things pass for Pantheons on the world. A peace has ruled for times but at others there has been a certain amount of connection. No he has never met this form that Castiel has worn, but there have been others in the past so he is not unknown to those host at all. But that having been said, allies they are not.
    "Do you require a trumpet through which to deliver your message, or shall you stoop to dialogue. A give and take preferably, for I am not one who is keen to remain complacent while prophecy is delivered."

Castiel has posed:
     A single hand is raised, palm outward, toward John. "I do not think a trumpet, and your request for privacy, are compatible." There's no mirth upon his lips, but there is a glimmer to the blue of his eyes.
    He half turns in his seat, and curls the last fingers of his hand against his palm, and twitches the index and middle at the bartender, "Boilermakers." The gesture ending in a tap upon the table, indicating to make it a round. And then Castiel hunkers in a little closer to the table.
    "Do we dispense with introductions, then?" His voice low murmur of sound, rumbling with the barest suggestion of what Castiel is behind the question.
    He looks over to Shulkie, then back again. "Does she know?"

She-Hulk has posed:
    Shi--uhm, stuff just got real. Shulkie hears those words from John and her smile fades away like it never was. Instead, she looks quite serious as she listens to the words from her companion.
    Host. Fallen. Eternal. Trumpet. Prophecy. She's a lawyer and she is picking up on all the keywords which lead to a couple of possible conclusions. That John doesn't seem happy about it is enough for her to think bad-things <tm>.
    Then Castiel opens his mouth and that neutral expression turns to a frown. "Hey, buddy! I'm right here. I can hear you and I have the ability to speak for myself."
    Gone is the relaxed posture as she sits upright in her chair, the wood creaking under her weight. She puts her hands on edge of the table, gripping it lightly. Which means the wood groans for mercy because of her strength. "I don't know you either but I'll give you a little advice. Don't ever talk around me again."

Ares has posed:
    A hand lifts from the tabletop and extends over towards impede across Jen's path should she choose to launch herself at Castiel, though whether he's protecting her or him it is difficult to say. Yet his eyes remain on the man who has placed his order for boilermakers to the tender, and to be fair... that bartender is keeping enough attention to the table to catch the signal. Assuredly he'll hand off the order to a waitress for delivery once it's filled.
    But for now, Castiel is left only with his company at the table to take up his attention. Ares says levelly, "Jennifer, this individual is a member of an angellic host of some sort. I have lost the capability of discerning which particular flavor of soulless homunculi in the passing of years, but I can still recognize them in passing all said."
    Then it is to Castiel that he says, "She knows of my past if that is your inquiry. Now I would make one of my own and know your purpose. If there is one. Or have you slipped the leash?"

Castiel has posed:
    There's a furrow of brow in an all too human gesture as craggy eyebrows wrinkle up in confusion at the question. "Slipped the leash?" But the gesture is short-lived, and gone as quickly as it came. Perhaps unnoticed. "I do not wear a leash?"
    He doesn't dwell upon the matter, correcting the introduction, "Angels do not possess souls. It is a thing that sets us apart from humanity. We are given Grace. You may call me Castiel."
    John is regarded again, calmly. "Is there a name your vessel wears here? And do you not feel it?"

She-Hulk has posed:
    Though Shulkie wasn't about to attack--okay, maybe she was. It's nice that John lets her know what she is dealing with even if the angel doesn't.
    Angel. Like from heaven. That's going to mess with her brain later but considering her relationship with a god from another pantheon, maybe not so much. She's learning to broaden her horizons a bit, working with gods from different pantheons. But the idea of a big G is kind of daunting.
    Back to the subject at hand, she continues to frown at Castiel but she does let go of the table since really, it hasn't done anything wrong to deserve that treatment.
    "Avoid questions much?" she mutters, mostly under her breath but audible enough to be heard as she leaves the conversation to them.

Ares has posed:
    "Castiel," John murmurs as if cementing that bond of introductions, and if he accepts a drink then the guest code will be duly served. Ares, however, offers his own name only in part as he murmurs, "I go by John, of late." He only then gestures with a sweep of one hand, as if granting him permission to be there, it combines with the pattern and the accent to his words that seems almost too precise, as if he were performing some ritual that is offered before them.
    "You seem new to the world, first time out and about? And are you set to a particular task or are you amusing yourself during the great silence of the last millennia?" As he says this the man eases back into his seat, taking up his beer with one rough and calloused hand and setting it on the arm of his wooden chair, the structure of it complaining at the shift of the large man's weight with a creak.

Castiel has posed:
    Castiel's own drink is taken, a long swallow availed of before he sets it down again. This part of human ritual he seems to have down pat. "John," he nods.
    Jen gets the blue of his gaze again. "Not all things need be spoken. And some should not." But he relents enough to say to both, "There is a shift in the fabric. I do not know what it is, but I can feel it. I have chosen to be here." As much as if to say there are sides to be taken, and he has cast an irretrievable die.

She-Hulk has posed:
    Shulkie pointed out the avoiding questions and he just told her things don't always need to be said. Two possibilities. Either he is answering her comment with his own comment which may or may not be trued. Or he is telling her she should be keeping her mouth shut instead of muttering. Former, she's not happy with. Latter, things are not pretty. It's obvious which one she took it as.
    Shulkie's emerald eyes seem to almost glow as her temper flares. It seems to be an effect from the gamma radition in her blood combined with anger. Yet, he is talking to John. He did actually answer the question finally so if she blows her stack, she screws up the important discussion. Presuming it's important. Besides, it's their discussion. She technically isn't involved although it's one of the rudest things she's dealt with. And she's dealt with a lot being six and a half feet tall. And green.
    She stands up suddenly, her chair scraping backwards in her haste. The chair rocks slightly from her body brushing against it in her hurry to stand. "I'm going to the bar to get another beer. Enjoy your boilermakers." She turns on heel and heads for the bar, hands clenched into fists a her sides.

Ares has posed:
    A glance is given sidelong towards the emerald amazon as she rises and departs, her steps carrying her towards the bar. He gives her a small nod, brief, when their eyes catch each other's, but then he turns his attention back towards the other divinely touched being that has taken up a place at the table.
    "The fabric is always in flux, just as matters are always in play. Perhaps in ages past... you know, the time before you and yours came to the attention of the world or perhaps even existed, but then I may have been concerned. Now, I would perhaps take exception if the horsemen were riding around all willy nilly." His lip twitches slightly, always enjoying tweaking the angellic for their claim at such timelessness despite the relative... newness of the formal aspects of their belief.
    "But what evidence do you bring that some thing that perhaps plays at your senses and torments you?"

Castiel has posed:
    Castiel watches Jen as her temper flares, though it's really not clear if he follows why, or how close a call it was to his being on the receiving end of a rather large and gamma fueled temper. His blue eyes remain slightly puzzled as she gets up and leaves them, drifting downward to the clenched fists at her sides as she departs.
    "She seems displeased about something?" A question was asked. A question was answered. It doesn't follow that she should be unhappy. Didn't he speak to her, not as though she wasn't there? And now she isn't there. "Are they always so temperamental?"
    He doesn't dwell, sitting up more erectly in his seat. "I have reason to believe that certain demons walk amongst us. No longer fearing the Convanents." There's a slight head tilt, "What is willy-nilly?"

Ares has posed:
    The tall man settles into his seat, leaning back again on two of the legs, just naturally since his limbs are somewhat long. He lifts a hand, gesturing to the side subtly as if brushing past the words offered him like so much detritus even as his gaze slides away to follow Jennifer's approach to the bar. He gets a small smile, but then he looks back to the angel, "So long as they do not transgress against me and mine I hold no ill will for the Morning Star and his coterie."
    He leans forwards and takes up his drink, the sweat of the mug leaving a circlet of water upon the table's surface even as he tilts it back for a few swallows before setting it back down precisely from whence it came. "And willy-nilly in this context means cavorting around doing as they want."
    But then his brow furrows, eyes distancing in consternation. One brow lifts as he eyes the other askance, "Although, that would in part explain some of the events of these last five years, the madness embracing the world, the eruption of the insanity."

Castiel has posed:
    Castiel sits up even more fully, leaning back in his seat, and gets a distant look to him momentarily. "Not many remember to call him that. It would be his coterie, though. Not Lucifer himself. He seems content to let others dirty their fingers and stir the pots."
    Almost as an afterthought, Castiel regards his beer, and the shot set neatly beside it. "I would think any disturbance in the balance would matter to you. It would seem.." The nod that comes as he assimilates the definition is ever so fractional - barely a there thing. "I would say they cavort. There is a possession I need look into."
    And now he drinks his beer - without Ares' grace and precision. The imbibing of the amber fluid seems a thing remembered by the body, not the angelic within it, the motion too smooth and practiced a thing for all his other actions. And after his swallow, the mug is set down with a satisfying *thunk* upon the table, with a low, pleased sound. "Ah. Yes."

Ares has posed:
    His rough hand lifts as if to stay the words being offered to him, "I have turned my back on my family, I have foresworn my role as War, and I have embraced what role I have chosen as a mortal. Or as much of one as I can be." Ares crinkles his nose slightly as he looks away, the situation still displeasing him on some level. He looks back, "So if you seek to invoke this treaty or that binding agreement I would argue against its validity to draw me into whatever scuffle you mihgt have before you."
    That having been said he folds his arms over his chest, the flannel bulging at the lapels as he looks downwards for a moment, then back up. "However, if matters threaten to progress enough to threaten the status quo, then I could conceivably be convinced to step in as I would."

Castiel has posed:
    There's a flicker of amusement in Castiel's eyes. And something more. Something almost darker. Certainly more compelling. "Then I would ask, what would it take to convince? If the threat were, as you say, to progress." There's a pause, the man absolutely stilled. "I turned my back upon my nature to champion..A-John. If the Covenant does not compel, perhaps that you have turned, too, could sway?" It's the closest he's come to true emotion in words or tones. All softly spoken, the rough gravel of his voice a sincerity.

She-Hulk has posed:
    At the bar, Shulkie leans on the marred service as a bartender rushes over to her. "Another beer please."
    The bartender glances at the drink she left at the table then back to her. He nods and rushes over to fill a mug with a beer with the perfect amount of foam. He sets it in front of her while wisely not asking questions.
    "Thanks," she murmurs as she turns around, picking up the mug and looking to the table where the pair of men are sitting. She sips her beer carefully, as she considers if she should go back over.
    The urge to throttle the angel is still there.
    She opts to wait a few more moments and sips her beer again, looking specifically at John and offering him a faint apologetic smile.

Ares has posed:
    Again that crinkle of his nose, as if he had taken in a scent that displeased him. He shakes his head and then looks back towards Castiel, "I have a job now." He lifts a hand and waves it to the side, perhaps indicating the mob of locals around them. "I have responsibilities." He mentions a bit of what claims his time and his attention. "I am not free to abandon them to take up the sword and bring what defiant demonic beings dare offend the sensibilities of the eternal."
    His eyes narrow but then he'll catch Jen's smile albeit distantly. His own lip twitches and he spares a nod, then leans forwards and meets Castiel's gaze unwaveringly, pinpricks of luminescent crimson barely visible in the deity's eyes. "But if you want a goal for you to reach, then I claim this demesne as my own. This city. The surrounding lands. If aught passes that would endanger the continuance of this realm in its current recognizable form then yes...
    The tendons in his jaw tightens, then release as he waits a moment. Then he adds, "Then yes, I would take up the blade again."

Castiel has posed:
    Being himself, and still rather new to the nuances of all things mortal, Castiel doesn't catch the interplay between the two. At least not on any level that registers significance to him. Except for the nod, which, however it was meant, is taken as assent to the compelling.
    "Claimed," Castiel rumbles, the barest hints of angelic behind the single word. The sound carrying a distant echo to it the way bell tolls do. How thunder cracks. The way Covenants are sealed.
    The angel's eyes gleam, too. "We may have words to discuss in the future about this matter, then."
    And as quickly as it comes, the demeanour goes and Castiel is reaching for his beer again. Somewhere in the vessel's memories, there's acknowledgement that such things are sealed with a drink here. He might not understand why, but the fact settles well upon him and the angel downs the remainder of hir beer, and in short order, the shot of whiskey as well. He gives a broken memory of what must have been the former occupant's smile and gestures towards the bar for another.

She-Hulk has posed:
    Homicidal urges passed, Shulkie heads for the table once again. She pushes the untouched boilermaker out of the way and puts her beer in its place as she resumes her seat. She says nothing. Instead, she slumps back in her chair and crosses her arms over her midriff, long legs stretched out under the table.
    A little too close to the legs of the angel to keep her from wanting to kick him.
    She pulls her legs back, bent at the knee, to give some distance.

Ares has posed:
    A lift of his own mug is given, though no clink is given in a toast or the like, more just an acknowledgement of the sentiment if naught else. That having been done he looks askance towards She-Hulk and for a moment chews the inside of his cheek in contemplation. He'll shift his gaze back towards Castiel and tell him levelly, "We shall discuss them then, for now I am going to urge Ms. Walters to depart with me lest she decide to thrash you as she would."
    Of course that might be fun on its own, but then he would not be able to come back to this particular bar and that would be... troubling.
    But then the tall woman saunters over and he'll lift his chin to her, "We've finished our discussion and I believe it might be best if we were to depart." He reaches for the wallet inside the pocket of his jeans, withdrawing it, unfolding a few bills from within and enough for the angel to be able to drink for a good bit of time further should they wish. "Enjoy yourself, Cherub. We shall speak again."

Castiel has posed:
    If Castiel is put out by the impending departure, he doesn't show it. Then again, few things that lean towards the human manage to break through the angelic occupancy. "We shall speak again." The words are flatter than the ones uttered not too many moments before. Almost belatedly he remembers a nod to the quick-tempered green lady.
    "I believe it was a pleasure." His expression quizzical as the sentiment is offered.

She-Hulk has posed:
    "Yeah, believe that," Shulkie mutters as she jumps to her feet at the hint that they are leaving. She does pick up her mug and takes a big swig. Then another swallow. In moments, the entire thing is gone and she puts the empty back on the table. Then she just turns away from the angel without another word.
    The cherub comment earns a smile for John and she reaches out to take his hand in hers, needing the contact as she heads for the door. She does give a wave to John's co-workers that she'd gotten to meet, giving them a bright smile to show that she can be graceful. When she wants to be.