3636/Stop Me If You've Heard This One, Two Ninjas Enter a Bar

Stop Me If You've Heard This One, Two Ninjas Enter a Bar
Date of Scene:	12 January 2018
Location:	Luke's Bar, New York City
Synopsis:	Luke's Bar is the place for meeting Ninjas, Assassins and ...Canadians?
Cast of Characters:	Wolverine, Psylocke, Elektra

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Wolverine has posed:
    "Damn!" Logan says, as he enters Luke's establishment from outside. It was a blustery night indeed! Cold, snow falling like ash from a volcano, and the wind! It went right through you! Logan shrugs off the snow that has him covered, taps his cowboy hat against his chest to rid him of the white stuff, and pats his shoulders to get the last of it from his dark leather coat.

    Walking up to the bar, Logan peers across the well polished and clean bar, and says, "Best sctoch ya' got! I need somethin' ta' warm me up. Damn, it's cold! Feel like I'm back in Canada all over again." With that, Logan saddles up to the bar. He was expecting to see Luke tonight, so they can catch up over that Hand thing they went through a few weeks back.

Psylocke has posed:
"Look what the honey badger dragged in," comes a familiar British voice from the other end of the bar. Maybe he heard her before he scented her but it's difficult to tell with Logan. Betsy is sitting at the end of the bar with a glass in front of her. It's got something orange in it and smells of citrus so maybe a screwdriver or something of that ilk. She's got her jacket already tucked behind the bar with the barkeep cause he is willing to do that for the right sort of customers. She happens to be the right sort. Her purple hair is down around her shoulders, falling to midback. She's dreassed in a thick sweater and a pair of fashionable jeans. "Didn't expect to see any familiar faces here."

She picks up her glass and moves in his direction, picking up his cowboy hat and placing it atop her head. She has to tilt it back a bit so it doesn't fall down over her eyes.

Elektra has posed:
Ah. Luke's.

So many fond memories of the place. Enough that despite life's twists and turns, Elektra still likes to return here from time to time.

Some might consider it slumming. She merely regards it as revisiting a simpler time. And there were days where that is needed. If only for nostalgia's sake.

Today was one of those days. Yet another hurdle in the building project had been overcome. Something to do with overtime hours and foreman disputes. The trouble with running multiple crews in tandem. In the end, she'd had to go down to site and deal with it herself. It had cost, but Elektra had long ago found that there were few things that couldn't be solved by throwing money at them.

Tonight she felt she needed - no, deserved - that beer. Stepping in from the blustery streets, she pauses at the doorway to undo her coat, and look for a seat.

Wolverine has posed:
    After receiving his VERY generous glass of scotch, Logan almost gets it to his lips when he hears a familiar voice. With a half-smile, Logan turns to look at the end of the bar, and chuckles. "I thought I smelled someone familiar."

    Logan then changes his half-smile to a grin. "Betsy! Well I'll be...I didn't expect to see any familiar faces here as well! I thought this was a...secret from our crowd." He watches as she takes his hat, and puts it on her head. With a quick shake, he says, "Looks better on you than me." Logan grunts, and takes a swig of the scotch.

    That was when he sniffs, and with the cold and wet starting to settle, he can JUST make out another as she enters.

    His eyes narrow, and he looks at Betsy with a nod, letting her know to be on her guard. Her scent was unmistakeable..."Elektra." Logan growls, and with a swiftness of motion, his claws come out.

    "SNIKT!" Moving like a panther, Logan drops the glass, twirls, leaps off the barstool, and aims his claws at Elektra without a second thought.

Psylocke has posed:
The name earns an arched brow. Betsy isn't sure if the name should be familiar to her but the reaction of her friend and teammate is more than enough for her. As he gives that nod, she takes off the hat and sets it back on the bar. Wouldn't want it to get messed up if things get ugly.

Logan's claws slide out and she frowns slightly, turning to look toward the door. The face is one she's seen in the papers but she doesn't know the woman personally. Then Logan is in motion and Betsy is as well. She moves like lightning, one moment standing there then the next she is in front of Elektra as there is a blaze of violet light from her hand. Where there had been nothing, there is suddenly a sword created from her psionic power.

Only, it's not aimed at Elektra either. Instead, she blocks Logan. "Not in Luke's place! Outside if you want to fight," she says softly.

Elektra has posed:
Oh, now that was rich. First *that* one comes flying at her with hatred in his eyes and those claws of his, and then the other puts herself between the two, calling a halt to matters. Elektra didn't even have to shift positions or even make a yawn at defensive. It was almost quaint in how it worked out. But there were things that needed addressing...

"I think you've confused me with someone crass, and more than a little stupid. Unless I'm mistaken, one hardly comes to places such as this to start those kinds of fights. And if you and I are honest with one another," Elektra smiles cooly at Logan, even if the gesture carries some amusement, "We'd both have to agree this really isn't where I prefer to do that sort of business."

There's a pause, and that cool smile takes in both. "Now, shall we all agree to be civil and perhaps sit and enjoy a drink?"

Wolverine has posed:
    Logan pulls himself up short as Betsy gets in the way. His eyes flash, and he looks at her. Then, he looks at Elektra, and his eyes continue to smolder. Then, the fire slowly drifts out of them. Standing up straight he, "Hurumphs." and sheaths his claws with a "SNIKT!".

    Moving back to the bar, Logan points to his spilled glass, and says, "Another. And what these girls are havin'. On me." Logan sits down, and waits for the glass to be placed in front of him. Then, he downs it, and waves to the barkeep for another. "Betsy. Elektra. Elektra. Betsy. Ninja, Assassin, Assassin, Ninja." Logan chuckles and drinks his third. He then waves for another.

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy is only about halfway through her first drink yet here comes another of those orange concoctions. She shakes her head a little but then looks over at Elektra as introductions are made. Until things go a little wonky.

Assassin.

"I'm sorry, I'm certain I misheard that. Assassin?" Because she knows she's the ninja and not an assassin so the assassin had to be for the other woman. She looks more closely at Elektra. Not in a condemning way but more evaulating her. Betsy is a strange blend. Her features show she is fully Japanese. Yet her hair is purple and her eyes violet. When she speaks, it is with a perfect British accent.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra takes up a seat at the bar with the other two, and merely shakes her head at Logan's introduction. No help for it. Though most around would probably think he's making a joke. Or some of them might. So much for low profile, right?

She murmurs to the barkeep to get her a beer. Something on tap. When it arrives, she curls a hand around her glass and regards Betsy.

"Well, that is what he said. I suppose I could ponder if he was serious about you being a Ninja. That's almost cliche, don't you think?"

She sips her beer. Notably, she doesn't deny the fact of what Logan has named her.

Wolverine has posed:
    Logan doesn't even look at the two girls as they begin to chat. This was typical. Two beautiful, DEADLY women, and Logan was in the middle of it. Left, Betsy. Right, Elektra. Menage a trois indeed. Logan remains silent, and sips hs Scotch.

    The bartender looks at him, and shakes his head with a smile. Logan NEVER sips his drinks. It took Herculean effort for him to do that.

    Just in case, the bartender slips him another mug, this time his favorite...Keith's on tap. Luke always had Keith's for Logan. Otherwise, Logan would get grumpy. Probably the same thing the snow did to him, and why he did what he did when Elektra arrived. Logan was just grumpy.

Psylocke has posed:
"Why is it cliche?" Betsy asks in return. With her accent, it almost seems a reasonable question. "Don't go getting all racist on me just because I happen to look Japanese. I'm British as should be rather obvious." She takes a sip of her drink, glancing over at Logan then back to Elektra.

"I hear no denials on your part about being an assassin. I don't have any problem with most of those. People have to make a living." If Peter heard that, he'd probably faint.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra laughs, the sound light and rich. Her glass is lifted to Betsy, but not availed of. "Oh, touche. And the girl has claws. So, we've determined we all scratch, then. How delightful."

She inclines her head to the other woman. "As you say, we all need to make a living. Though I suppose with me it's a little more on the we all have our vices side of things. I rightfully don't have to make a living at anything. Though that does become boring."

Logan is given a long look. "So, are we agreed, then? A detente between us? I do find the rest gets rather boring rather quickly. Death is such a morbid business. I'd much rather bandy wits."

Which, as it happens, is both the utter truth, and an utter lie. Elektra rides the wave of both, believing herself until the boredom of truth requires her to make a liar of herself. Though, with recent changes in her life, perhaps that will be less so. Running The Hand may be just the shift in reality she needs.

Wolverine has posed:
    Logan hunches down lower, and finishes off his Scotch. The bartender takes the empty glass, makes sure everyone has a drink, and then disappears out back. "Smart man..." Logan grumbles under his breath and watches him leave with a wistful expression. How did he get in the middle of this? AFter all, the night started out so well, waht with the piercing cold and the unbearable snow storm...

    Pulling the beer closer, Logan hugs it to his chest, and then stares at it without a word. Wasn't this supposed to be a nice, relaxing night talking about killing as many Hand Assassins as they could get their hands on?

    As Elektra looks at him, the hair on the back of his neck stands up. Okay, a LONG look it is. With a slight sigh, Logan looks at her sideways, and growls, "Sure. Detente. You know me. Love a battle of wits." Sarcasm. With that, Logan takes a very long pull from the beer, and with a gulp, a deep breath, and a "BURP!" Logan sighs. "Fine."

Psylocke has posed:
If she thought it would do any good, Betsy would simply say 'manners' to Logan. However, she learned long ago it doesn't do any good. She doesn't bother wasting her breath. Instead, she picks his hat back up and puts it on again.

"And that is where we differ," she points out as though the conversation really needed to go there. "You prefer a battle of wits. I prefer a good old fashioned...whats that term. Beat down." She smiles a bit wistfully as she picks up her drink, sipping through the straw before she continues. "For me it's the adrenaline rush. I leave word games to those better at them. Like Logan here."

Elektra has posed:
Again with that tinkle of rich laughter.

"Oh, I wouldn't say I dislike the adrenaline rush. It has its place." She likes to think she's better than that. And for periods of time, she is. She just can't maintain the facade. The farce. In the end boredom wins and she's its servant. "I hear there are cage matches some enjoy."

That, at least, she can say was never her fancy. At least not as she's heard of them. She'd want something a little more esoteric than that. Larger. Grander. Why have a competition if you're not willing to throw all in?

"I do like a challenge." And there's truth in that. Even assassination loses its flavour when there's no challenge behind it.

Logan gets an amused hint of a smile. "Oh, come. I didn't mean anything by my choice of words. You know what I meant. Besides, places like Luke's should remain neutral ground. Let me rephrase myself more to your liking. I prefer the sarcasm and the snark to the other. The rest becomes something of a pissing contest otherwise. We all know what we are and what we can do. What's the fun in that? At least not here. If you insist, we can go elsewhere later and engage."

Wolverine has posed:
    Logan glares at Betsy, and shakes his head, "Yeah. Word games are a' lotta fun." Logan takes a break from the banter, and takes a last drink from the beer. Damn, it was all gone. And the bartender was out back. Grrrr...

    As Elektra continues, Logan looks at her with a blank expression on his face. "Yeah. Luke's can remain neutral." Logan eyes Elektra suspiciously. "Ah. Well, ah can be sarcastic. I hear that all tha' time. Part a' who I am I guess."

     Logan nods, and adds, "As for the engaging part, ah'm all either a ya' could ever handle, darlin'." Logan grins, and then looks mournfully into his empty glass. "I prefer to just drink, and have a few laughs."

Psylocke has posed:
His flirtiness is something Betsy is used to. She used to flirt back quite a lot herself. Never had worked out with them but the banter had been there. Until she went and got all serious about a guy instead of being her usual playful self. Damn the world sometimes.

Seeing that wistful look, Betsy stands up then hops up to sit on the edge of the bar. Then she swings her legs around to the opposite side and drops behind the bar. She picks up Logan's glass and moves to the tap, filling it up expertly so iat has just the right amount of foam. She pushes it in front of him then leans on the bar from the opposite side.

Elektra has posed:
"You wound me, Logan," Elektra says almost sorrowfully. "You say that like I don't actually mean it. I tell you what, what would it take for you to believe me? Hrm?" She takes a second, considered sip of her beer.

Betsy's hop behind the bar is watched with mild amusement. "Ah, there. See? Always a bartender in the crowd."

Logan's flirt is taken in stride. "Is that a challenge, there, Logan? I mean, the only real way to determine how much a person can handle..."

Her beer is lifted to him, though she does not sip, merely completing the salute gesture and setting it back down again, allowing a perfectly manicured finger to rest along the lip of the glass, tracing a single inch of it back and forth.

Wolverine has posed:
    Casually, Logan watches as Betsy does her thing. Looking at her with gratitude in his eyes, he raises the glass, and silently toasts to her before taking a big swig. "Ahhh. Nice. Thanks Betsy. That hit tha' spot." Logan winks at her, and nods. "Expertly done. Huh." Another swig.

    Next, Logan looks at Elektra sideways, and says, "What' would it take, huh?" Logan pauses, and shrugs. "AH believe ya'." Logan takes a swig, more for self-preservation than anything.

    AFter the flirty exchange, Logan chuckles, and says, "True enough." Logan agrees with Elektra. With a wink, a quick raise of his glass in salute, first to Elektra and then to Betsy, and a wide grin, Logan says, "Ah'm always game for a challenge..."

Psylocke has posed:
"You'd like that--" Betsy's words are interrupted as she jerks her head to the left, eyes focused on something that isn't even there. She frowns a bit as her hand automatically goes to her head where she takes off the hat and sets it down on the bar. "I'm very sorry to cut this short. I'm needed elsewhere."

The problem with having a psionic link with someone is she can sense when he is hurt or upset, even from a distance away. And that is what she just picked up on. THe reaction is stronger than normal which has her reacting. "If you both will excuse me?"

She reaches out with her mind and every other head in the place is suddenly turned, looking the other way. It's just a suggestion that there is something interseting to look at. Only Logan and Elektra are not touched. Logan already knows what she can do. It won't hurt to be sure an assassin knows that she has a few tricks too.

There are shadows in the bar and suddenly they open. The is a flare of a triangular, red tattoo over her left eye. Then she shifts, becoming nothing but shadow and melting into the darkness. In an instant, she's simply gone.