7024/Post Derby Date Debriefing

Post Derby Date Debriefing
Date of Scene:	24 March 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	A post Roller Derby date party at Luke's becomes increasingly more surreal. Including a near battle royale between Hellboy and Castiel that takes no less than Agent May, Steve Rogers, and Bucky to break it up. Castiel's people skills are improving. Somewhat.
Cast of Characters:	Melinda May, Castiel, Darcy Lewis, Constantine, Winter Soldier, Hellboy, Captain America

---

Melinda May has posed:
Saturday Night.

Even the music coming out of Luke's Bar is celebrating the day. Bay City Rollers blares out onto the street every time the door is opened. And the door is opening very frequently. Luke's is the proud sponsor the local roller derby team, and tonight their afterparty is being held there. Because of this, at least half of the people already crammed into the establishment are women in various states of extremely unusual dress, and more than a handful are sporting bruises on any bit of exposed skin. It's loud, and it's boisterous, but most of all, it's very, very cheerful.

Having just stepped into the bar, May has sidestepped to one side of the door so others can enter and exit past her, and she's already starting to regret letting Darcy talk them into this. She can't even begin to imagine how Castiel feels, considering he is VERY not used to this kind of thing.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel isn't sure if he *enjoyed* the Roller Derby, but it was rather more interesting than the fancy dinners Darcy had prepped him for. Certainly more viceral. Certainly a lot easier to understand the nuances and the aspects of human behaviour that were being displayed. None of this trying to figure out whether or not he was supposed to be holding a chair or a door or whether or not he'd just insulted his date by both implying she needed help, or wasn't worthy of him at least making the attempt.

Something, something. He still wasn't sure what Darcy had been going on about with that.

As it was, his time with May at the Roller Derby had been much more relaxed (for him at least - he could only assume it was so for her as well), with a lot less expectations of behaviour, or considerations of where he'd just messed up.

He'd enjoyed the hot dog; the popcorn; the beer that cost way too much money but he paid for and drank anyway; he'd even bought a foam finger to wave in the air, though it had been appropriated by a small girl in pigtails who glared at the angel and stuck her tongue out at him before scampering off.

"So this is normal, then? If you win or if you lose, we all gather to drink the alcohol and celebrate? Will there be women in those rolling shoes, still?"

The crowd inside was rather impressive. "You are sure this is where you wish to be?"

Because May. He understood that much about her, at least. Even if he wasn't so up on the rest of this whole stepping out with someone.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
After party!!

Riding high on the adrenaline from spills and thrills, a dozen or more fresh new bruises, Tazer Queen pushed her way in with the last of her team. She'd been held up with fans of the team wanting photos with the electric blocker. Her number still written in black sharpie on her upper arm, the fishnet fingerless elbow gloves were still damp from sweat. She smelled too. Like a gymbag, like sweat and adrenaline and excitement and leather and safety gear she probably should have washed last month but didn't. Her hair was pulled back into a french braid, left loose between her shoulder blades so her wavy brown half curls mostly covered her skater name and the identifying number: 50kv - the amount of volts a standard taser puts out.

Tazer walked in, wooping for her team mates and opponents both, before double taking when she spotted both May and Castiel. Lips that were painted blacked with a bright yellow lightning bolt in the middle of the lower one, split into a bright smile. Darcy steps over to ill-advisedly try to toss her arms about May before she'll turn to toss arms around Castiel. WIthout her skates, the curvy SHIELD agent was short, very short. Her normally warm green eyes are instead a bright electric blue, constrasting with the yellow cab inspired look of her uniform.

"May! Cast! HOly fuck, you guys! I didn't think you'd really show! Fuck yes! Imma buy you a drink. Whacha want? Shots? Beer?" A beat. "Tequila?"

Constantine has posed:
John had come to Luke's for a quiet drink unaware of the storm heading his way. So when the derby girls and their fans arrived the warlock was caught up in the tide of the sudden party.

That said he'd always been one to adapt quickly, so as the Bay City bloody Rollers played from the jukebox, he tried to make the best of it, saying to the blonde next to him above the din, "Good song this, y'know it inspired the Ramones to make Blitzkrieg Bop?" he asks her.

The blonde asks "Who?" and John's face falls.

"Nevermind, luv, you've said enoug for me."

He picks up his drink to roll the dice somewhere else, only to spot a familiar face in the crowd, Castiel, and with a lady friend?

He makes his way over, arriving just after Darcy and clapping Castiel on the arm, "Well, fancy meeting you here, Cas, and with company too, usually more the drinking alone type. Gonna introduce me to your friends?" he asks him before doing the honour s himself. "John," he says, "Good to meet you."

Melinda May has posed:
"It's fine," May tells Castiel. She can and she will deal with it. She's dealt with far worse. She just doesn't particularly relax in this kind of environment. Not to mention too many people too close together makes it more difficult for her to keep her concealed weapons concealed.

And then Darcy finally shows and promtly gloms onto her. She tolerates it for a staggering three seconds before ducking out from under Darcy's arm in a way that that jammer over there might envy. "It was an interesting match, Lewis." She won't admit, though, that she's still not entirely certain of the rules. It all just seems... like rugby on skates. Without the ball.

When John makes his way over to them and greets Castiel of all people first, May studies him for a moment as if making a visual threat assessment. Sloppy clothing, in dire need of a shave, the aura of cigarette smoke around him... she thinks she knows who this is, but she's not about to pretend she doesn't.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel would totally have dealt with it.. however, it's likely best May does, because his method is rather more ascerbic than would go over well in this crowd and it's still early in the evening for a fistfight to break out.

Darcy's arrival is met with a gruff glower, "Did we not say we would come? Though you did not say that you would be inviting everyone at the match to come here as well." However, her offer of drinks mitigates a lot of his grump, telling the woman, "An Apocalypse. That is the four horsemen. Sometimes they will add a fifth, though I am told that is a flight."

Really, he should have gone for broke and asked for the flight.

John's elbowing up to the couple, and Darcy, is surprising. Mostly because John is not a crowd person.

"This is Agent May," Castiel offers by way of introduction. "She is my date for this evening."

Looking to May, "It is a date, yes? That was the agreed upon term?"

Melinda May has posed:
May just barely manages to refrain from rolling her eyes at Castiel's question about if this was a date. "Yes, Cas, this is a date."

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"Glitterpop's a badass, isn't she?" Darcy gushes about her pink-haired Jammer. Smaller than Darcy both in height and in width, the young woman looked more like a teenager than anyone should be comfortable with and was probably the reason for the jammer's skater number: 16 1/2.

Without Castiel dislodging himself from her they way May had, Darcy keeps her arms about his ribs, her sweat-darkened hair against his shirt as she grined up at him.

"Fresh outta flights and apocalypses... apocalypi? What's the plural of 'apocalypse'?" she rambles, meaning to tug her friends into the bar proper when John arrives and greets them all, starting with the Angel. Stunned, Darcy looks over at May before looking at John again.

"Darcy or Darce or Tazer or Tits. Whatever," she says before Castiel is introducnig May and.. Bright blue eyes widen.

A real date?! Hot damn! You GO boi!!! Darcy untangles herself from May's beau and slids around she that Castiel is between her and May.

"....Don't be like Darcy and put out on the first date..."

Darcy has NO sense of self perserverance.

Melinda May has posed:
May looks at Lewis flatly. If she has to stop and explain to Castiel what that means, she is taking it out on Darcy's hide.

Constantine has posed:
"Plural form of apocalypse is apocalypses, same as eclipses, from the Greek, originally," John explains at the question.

As for the threat assessment, well he's not armed, and judging by the signs of rough living on him, more of a threat to himself more than anyone else. That said he fits the description of one John Constantine, who's rumoured to walk on the spooky side of things, though the jury's out if he's the real deal or a con-man.

Though given he knows Cas, that's likely a mark in the real column.

"An your date?" he asks blonde brows raising with interest. "An' you had to ask if it was a date? Those brothers been steering you wrong."

He turns to May and Darcy. "Agent May? Your family must have had a sense of humour or, that's your title," he says before giving a grin to Darcy. "Tits it is, then, luv. So, you lot mind if I join you for a spell?"

Melinda May has posed:
"Both," May tells Constantine flatly. "And is fine if you join us. Lewis, get Castiel his drinks, and a bourbon neat for me." She reverse pick-pockets some cash into Darcy's hand before making her way through the press of people to a table toward the back of the bar.

For the most part she's able to slip between people without having to touch them, but on the occasion she can't just 'ninja' her way through she seems capable of making people step aside without resorting to any sort of violence.

Yes, she's expecting all y'all to be able to follow her. If you get stuck, that's on you.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel presumes since he's not been shot down, the term had been agreed upon, leaving him to tell Darcy plainly, "No help from you. We have determined that we are not restaurant people. Though I am judging by AGent May's reaction to this space that we are not crowd people either."

He'd been aware enough at the Derby to notice that while she wasn't actively making it clear she wasn't a true fan of the place, that it also wasn't necessarily her cup of tea. He, himself, had enojoyed some of the sheer unadulterated brutality of it - but then again, he'd been a warrior of the Lord. There was a certain portion of him that understood battle on a level that went beyond the mere physical, or watching it. That, and the vessel did seem to have appreciation of the fact that it was an all female sport. A fact the angel found slightly disturbing to be experiencing.

John manages to cover the plural situation, though he corrects Darcy, "They will pour you several drinks of the whiskey. It is not a drink, singular, but a word for the number of shots. I would also like a boilermaker." Because beer chaser.

Before Castiel follows May, however, he admonishes John, "It would be wise not to cast spells in this location. I find that humans are not generally comfortable with such things and in a crowd of this size and nature, the outcome could be unfortunate."

He leans in to May, asking, "What does it mean 'to put out'?"

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Money suddenly in her hand, Darcy double blinks at it before stowing it into her sportsbra. She looks at John.

"Thanks," she says of the lesson, lips smirking. "And what do you want from the bar, John?" she asks, mind memorizing the drink orders. She'll navigate her way to get the drinks and then to May's table, with a completely different skill set than her SO used. It's nonetheless as effective.

Constantine has posed:
John laughs as Cas takes things the wrong way, "Meant a bit, ya daft angel," he says, before he puts a cigarette to his lips and lights it with a bit of flame from his fingers. "Though always thought the odd spell impressed the ladies."

At Darcy's question, "Nuther boilermaker, thanks," he says giving her an upwards nod of his head.

Then he's weaving through the crowd like a pro, years of rock shows in scummy bars had given him skills at navigating a drunken crowd. When they reach their table he collapses into a chair, and sprawls. "Quite the party," he remarks. "Anyhow, how'd you crazy kids meet?" he asks of Cas and May.

Melinda May has posed:
At Castiel's question, May has to work at not SIGHing. Yes, Darcy is going to pay.

"It basically implies having sex as part of the date," she explains to the angel as quietly as possible in this noisy and rowdy bar. "Which, for the record, I have no expectations of either of us 'putting out'."

"Work." Yeah, she's full on verbose today at Constantine. And no, asking again will not convince her to offer more explanation than that. Deal.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel absorbs that information from May, pondering, "Why would we engage in sexual intercourse merely because we are on a date? Is it not better to enter into that activity when you have agreed it is an act expected to both be pleasurable to both parties, and appropriate to the relationship? Do humans not find it simpler to indulge their baser urges in more expedient ways, leaving themselves free to more meaningful engagement that may or may not lead to the physical?"

He follows her through the crowds, finding them parting before him like the Red Sea.

"I am not thinking that we need to have intercourse at this time. Though I am assured that a kiss is often appropriate. It is confusing how complicated humans make these things."

Castiel is a study in contradictions. He's likely going to need all the drinks Darcy is bringing back, and thensome.

Constantine has posed:
"What sort of work was that? Last I heard ol' Cas here didn't have a steady job," John remarks with a grin, knowing when he's getting stonewalled but pushing on all the same.

The rest of the conversation has John staring blankly at the both of them. "This must be what they mean by cyber dating, it's like you're a pair of robots. Seriously, where's the passion, you should give her a snog at least if not drag her off to the loo for a shag."

He pauses. "Actually let me translate, you should put your food recepticles together, and then go the waste extraction area to perform intercourse... Bloody hell, where's Tits, I am too sober for this."

Winter Soldier has posed:
There's the skeleton at the feast - gods know Barnes isn't a barrel of laugh, these days. But he's ventured out of the Triskelion for once, even if he's literally and figuratively looking over his shoulder for the shadow of Frank Castle.

Buck's in plain civvies - canvas army parka, gray henley, old jeans, workboots, hair tied back in a low ponytail. At his side paces a big German Shepherd in a service dog vest - he's got her leashed, but she's keeping at a proper heel. Aware of what's around her, but clearly focussed on her human. He heads for May and Co. wearing that utter lack of expression, though there's a faint weariness in the lines around eyes and mouth.

Melinda May has posed:
Seated at a table way toward the back of Luke's Bar with the rest of the place positively bursting with people -- most of whom are in very eclectic and wide varied combinations of provocative attire and ... high impact sporting equipment -- May continues to stare at Constantine flatly and refusing to answer his attempts to find out more about her as he already seems familiar enough with Castiel. He even mentioned the brothers. She is actually doing a pretty decent imitation of that robot that the man just accused oher of being.

Though the 'translation' earns him a narrowing of her eyes. Keep it up, Chuckles. You're not endearing yourself to her. Not at all. Her eyes flick up and away from Constantine, though, when she spots Barnes approaching through the crowd. Her immediate reaction is concern, as she can't think of any other reason for him to show up here and beeline for her table.

Of course, unless you're fluent in robot facial expressions, her reaction is extremely subtle.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Having coaxed the barkeep out of a drink tray, Darcy makes her way back to the table. Like a waitress, she sets out all the drinks just as Bucky is making his way over. She moves to squish into the seat with John, tossing a glance over her shoulder as the Soldier nears.

"Oh, fuck. It's a party now. Glad I got a pitcher. Here, have one," Darcy says holding out the beer she had poured for herself toward Barnes while looking around the table.

"So..what did I miss?"

Castiel has posed:
"I assure you," Castiel tells John with much authority, "Agent May is not the sort of person you take to the waste receptacle room and fornicate with." He considers, "Nor is she the kind of woman you announce you have done such things with. She is someone who demands more respect than that, for the privlege of allowing you to see her more vulnerable side."

Something he seems comfortable with, but he has to ask, "Why would you fornicate in the waste receptacle room? It smells of defecation and urine. I can not imagine any circumstance where that is pleasing." The vessel assures the thought of those things coupled with sex are not pleasing, though it does provide a nascent niggle that it is the forbidden that is the probable attraction. Not a thing he dwells upon, though.

He, too, turns to consider Barnes as May turns. "He does not look all there." Meaning the man looks vacant, as though portions of his personality and brain are absent. "Is he in need of healing?" A thing Castiel is more than formidable in, though it might take a bit of discerning the essential differences between a broken bone, and a damaged psyche, and some would argue that healing the physical damage of the emotional is not enough. The mind being even more complicated than human social patterns.

Constantine has posed:
John's faced down demons, so he manages that flat stare of May's without cracking, but the message is heard. "Right you are then," John says by way of saying he'll leave well enough alone. Well almost, he does remark to Cas, "Heart of the poet, mate," he says. "All that respect business."

Though when sex in bathrooms is brought up. "Depends on the girl and how drunk you are," he says before offering a shrug.

Darcy's return is met with a grin and he's eager to get his drink then shuffle over for the new arrivals, "Thanks, an' we're talking about shagging in the bathroom. I'm for, they're against, on principle of course."

His eyes fall on Bucky then and he considers him, before answering Cas. "I'd wager not the type you offer, but a drink might be a good start."

Winter Soldier has posed:
Buck's fluent enough, apparently - for he greets that look of May's with a fractional shake of his head. No, no drama. Just him prying himself out of his mostly self-imposed seclusion and making a nod at being sociable like a real boy.

He takes the offered beer with murmured thanks to Darcy. It'll be a token thing, anyhow. Might as well be ginger ale for all the good it'll do him. "Hey," he says, giving the others an upnod and taking a seat as if sure of his invitation.

To Castiel, he says, mildly, "No, I'm not all there, but I got enough to keep goin'. And at the moment, I don't need healing." Though there's a thoughtful look in his eyes - could someone "heal" him well enough to get rid of the arm?

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"Hmm... public bathroom sex. Not my favorite, but if the other is hot and willing and I've got a bad enough itch," Darcy replies, her false colored eyes sliding to Barnes as she pours and then drinks from another beer poured from the pitcher. She seems to be considering the man for a moment before she looks at Castiel.

"Don't knock it till you try it, sweet angel," she tells him with all due seriousness.

Melinda May has posed:
May responds to Barnes' subtle headshake with an equally miniscule nod of her own. It's honestly a relief. She takes up her glass of bourbon -- no pansy-ass piss-water beer for her, thanks -- and then mentally returns to the conversation. "Enough. Change the topic, please." She honestly could not care less about them razzing on her sex life or lack thereof, but they need to back the hell off of Castiel. It's like talking about drinking and smoking pot in front of a twelve year old.

"Cas, you should ask Lewis those questions you had about the rules of the roller derby match. She can no doubt explain them better than I can."

Castiel has posed:
Castiel is willing enough to accept Buck's words. "No offense meant," he tells the other. "And if you change your mind.." He lifts his drink to Buck and downs it in one go - totally the advantage of a whiskey shot. It does, however, bring Darcy into focus. Well, the conversation, and May's redirecting of things.

"You, too, are injured," he says, and wordlessly, reaches over, dealing with the bruising that is part and parcel of her hobby. "I do not understand how it is you know who to collide with. I did notice that nobody broke any bones, or pull any blades. I am to assume those are the rules of engagement?"

Winter Soldier has posed:
"None taken," Buck says, lifting his own in return. His expression's still utterly bland. He doesn't seem to have noticed Darcy's look. Not even a flicker.

The Shepherd at his side lays her jaw on his leg, sighs, and he drops a hand to pet her gently.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Darcy noted the redirect and so fell in line, taking another pull as she turned to Castiel. Her eyes dropped to a beautiful bloom of purple on her upper arm where she had roughly connected with an opponent, and set the two of them crashing into the rink side suicide seating.

"Nah," she says, looking back up. "That ain't injured. That's just bruised. I know to ram into anyone NOT in my colors, for one. The one with the star on her head is the one scoring the points, so if I can knock her ass down while getting my own star through the pack, so much the better. And yes, it's against teh rules to pull weapons. This is a game, not a battleifeld."

Melinda May has posed:
May sips at her own bourbon, because that's what you're supposed to do with liquor this expensive compared the beer and whiskey. "So I was right, the people with the stars on their helmets had a different strategy than the rest of the group." Clearly, she's not studied derby rules much at all. Though maybe she should.

Her eyes flick over toward Bucky as she can tells that Lilly's got his attention again. "It's a good thing you didn't go see the bout, Barnes. It's ... a bit rowdy and violent."

Kind of like the crowd at the bar, but with more roller skates.

Castiel has posed:
"I see," Castiel says, reaching for another drink, now that Darcy's arm has been dealt with. "Then perhaps I was wrong to heal the bruising. Though Clint Barton was grateful. It seems there are different types of bruises. Those you are proud of, and those you are not. I had not considered this."

It gives him pause, and his drink gives him reason not to speak up for the moments it takes for him to consider this turn of events: that one thing can have complex meaning to humans. Which might explain part of his problem with them. There is no distinct black and white to any of their actions or existence. It all seems shades of personal grey.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Was that a joke from May? By the little line that shows up between his brows, Buck's not sure. "Yeah?" he asks, mildly. "You know I can handle violence, even in entertainment. I usedta box, in fact, back when. That was my sport." Of course it was, considering all the fights he ended up dragged into by Steven.

Castiel's evident puzzlement earns him a long, thoughtful looking-over, but no comment.

Constantine has posed:
"Yeah," John chimes into Cas. "Some folks like their bruises and battle scars, badge of honour and all of that," he says taking a his shot and chasing it with a long pull of lager.

"Though I'll look you up next time some demon puts me through the ringer, won't say no to a healing then," he says with a smile as he rummages in his pockets before asking. "Any of you lot going to murder me if I smoke?" he asks with special attention given to Bucky and May.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
'Wrong to heal the-' What? The confusion was easy to see on Darcy's face as she tilted her chin down and her arm up. She set her beer down to claw her finger tips over where the bruise was, blue eyes blinking. A moment of silence from her before she looks at Castiel.

"Mind putting your hands on my ass?"

Castiel has posed:
Castiel gives Darcy a confused look. "You wish me to put my hands on your ass?"

He gives May a quick look to see her thoughts on this, knowing that he's here with her, and being uncertain of just what it is Darcy is proposing, until it hits him - he'd seen some of those falls. "Oh. Your ass is in pain."

which seems a simple enough solution, because he doesn't actually /have/ to grope her to make it all go away. All he needs to do is focus on the fact that he's healing /all/ her bruises, not just the ones he sees. Which makes it much simpler.

The angel reaches out and puts his hand on her forearm, and again concentrates on healing those places that hurt on the derby girl, and in rather short order - given they aren't dire wounds - they're gone, and healed right up.

Pays to have a resident angel.

Melinda May has posed:
May nods to Bucky as he explains. Good to know. She won't have to worry about walking on eggshells around the man. But, like Rogers, she is going to adamantly refuse to let them watch anything even vaguely resembling Saving Private Ryan. That movie was too viscerally realistic.

Her eyes focus over on the bar when a shout goes up, and someone starts yelling for all of the derby girls to huddle up. She watches as Darcy takes her leave and goes to join in the chaos over at the bar and appears to be completely unconcerned. She does trust Lewis to indicate if anything about that boisterous group were not completely normal.

"So, Mr. Constantine, how is it that you know Castiel?" Turn about interrogation is fair play.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel suddenly becomes every Derby girl's best friend. The line might not be long, but the fawning and giggling over the angel is vast, as well as some disappointment that he isn't touching their butts or the specific places they're directing him to to do the bruise healing.

More than one whispers a naughty thing in his ears, and ruffles his hair.

He's not sure, but somewhere in there, he thinks he just got adopted by the team...

He'll be busy for awhile, and will most definitely need alcohol when it's over.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"I don't mind....if you've got an extra one for me," says Bucky, easily. He's still nursing that beer like he's sure he's gonna be the one stuck with the bill at the end of the night. His dog has closed her eyes, and seems utterly content to sit there and get her ears petted.

His gaze follows Darcy and Castiel, but he doesn't ask any questions...and when May puts that to Constantine, he turns his attention to the Englishman.

Constantine has posed:
John shakes his head as Castiel becomes the sudden favourite of all the derby girls. "You know he's like a Ken Doll right?" he calls to them somewhat bitterly, reinforcing the sterotype.

"An' sure mate," John knocks a couple smokes out of his pack, Silk Cuts, and with a wave of his fingers, he lights them both and hands one to Bucky. "Cheers," he says. "Name's John by the way."

As for May's question about where he knows Castiel the Healer of Butts from, John smiles wryly as he offers: "Work."

Melinda May has posed:
Touche. May expected no less of Constantine's reply. Though, his offering Bucky a cigarette elicits the tiniest hint of her wrinkling her nose in distaste. Again, the chances of anyone other than Barnes picking up on it are VERY slim.

She seems completley unperturbed by her date being accosted by the minor swarm of derby girls. She's fairly confident that he is fully capable of taking care of himself. And really, if he gets overwhelmed, he can just bamf away to somewhere else faster than a human can blink.

Castiel has posed:
John's assertion that Castiel is a Ken doll gets a complaint from the angel - he knows what a ken doll is; this has come up in conversation before.

"I am not a Ken doll. I have all the working parts and they are all fully functional." A glare John's way. "All of them."

Not that he understands this deep seated need to make certain that John knows he has all the working bits and could too use them if he wished. That is a part of this 'being human' he's not fathomed out yet.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Winter Soldier doesn't seem to mind the brand. A faintly apologetic look at May....but it doesn't stop him from taking a long drag. Nicotine's as much of a bust as booze, but he can, like the Skull atop Haggard's clock, at least taste the memory of what it was.

There's a bit of pop culture he's either never encountered....or it was elided away in his memory wipes, and he looks up from his beer to ask, apparently seriously, "What's a Ken doll?"

Constantine has posed:
John seems to revel at having been up to May's challenge taking a long pull of his smoke and then a swallow of beer. Though Castiel's declaration has him making a face. "Didn't need that image in my head thanks," he says, not that John was turned of by boy parts, but, angels... *shudder* who needed that kind of problem.

Bucky's question is met with a faint look of surprise, "You don't know..." he begins, trying to puzzle that out. "They're boy dolls that go with girl dolls, but they don't have all their bits," he glances downwards, "Down there. Angels," he nods to Castiel. "Are spuriously rumoured to have same defect."

Castiel has posed:
"You have been misinformed about angels," Castiel grumbles, the line of Derby girls now but a sparse handful, all of whom are giggling and blushing at him, making lewd comments that the angel is trying very hard to ignore, though John's running commentary about the anatomical composition of the angelic hordes isn't helping matters much.

Then again, neither is Castiel's stubborn insistence that he's not a eunich.

"I didn't think you were that particular," the angel narrows his gaze down on John. Because he does know a few things about the man.

Finished with his healing work, Castiel shoos the girls away to a whole new bout of pouting, along with pleas of 'you are coming to the next derby aren't you Angel-fingers?'.

It's about this point that May is given the 'help me?' look because while he *could* just bamf out, he's actually trying to be on his best behaviour for his date. For some value of both best behaviour, and date. Telling her as an aside, "Next time we will go to the movies. The matinees do not have rituals like this."

The derby girls each rubbing his head as they shuffle off, giggling, back to the bar to refill their drinks and celebrate the fact that none of them are going home with bruises this evening!

Melinda May has posed:
May leans back a bit to stay clear of the cigarette smoke and watches Constantine try to explain that pop culture reference to Bucky. And then, of course, she has to burst Constantine's bubble. "This isn't the movie Dogma, Constantine. Castiel isn't a giant ken doll. He's, so far as I can tell, a human host to a non-corporeal angel. Kind of like demon possession, but it requires both permission and genetic compatibility from the host." Her seemingly mild look is a wordless and VERY pointed 'so stop talking about it'.

Winter Soldier has posed:
"That doesn't make any sense, angels not....it's in the bible that they had kids with human women," Buck says, a little blankly. "I mean, I dunno how accurate that is when it comes to the angels we've got now, or if the Almighty took steps to make sure there weren't any more of the....what're they called? Nephilim?"

A glance aside to Constantine. "Yeah. There's a lot of stuff I missed and haven't caught up on." Back to Castiel - open curiosity now. An angel. "I guess you gotta wear a human body or people'd be losing it. I mean, that's in the Bible, too. Every time an angel shows up, the first thing he's gotta say is 'Fear not'."

Constantine has posed:
John snorts, smoke coming with the sudden exhalation of breath. "I can /see/ you mate, course I am particular," he says, meaning beyond the mortal host he inhabits, the angelic being within. It was one of his 'gifts' and most often a curse as well.

May's comment gets a nod, "Seen that did you? Had a good laugh myself, always fun to bring up when dealing with the servants of the almighty."

Then to Bucky, he gets a sympathetic look, he didn't need to be in this particular crossfire, but all the same he nods, "Just a joke, there was movie about twenty years ago that said angels were, well, like I said, never let them live that one down if I can," he gives Cas a look. "Serves em right for the most part."

John snorts again as Bucky starts in on Cas with the questions.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel downs the remainder of his what turns out to be a flight rather than an Apocalypse by virtue of the added shot of whiskey with the boilermaker.

"Damned cursed souls," the angel mutters before turning his attention to the broken soldier who has otherwise been mostly silent this evening.

"The nephilim have many lores associated with them. Most often considered the Sons of God coming into the daughters of men, who bore them children. You'd be right in understanding that there walk among you those who have more than human blood, though the celestial and Divine is watered down by now."

He shrugs. "It was a different time. We were still arrogant enough to believe we held the Faith of men in the palms of our hands, and He was rather more indulgent. These days there are greater penalties for interfering." Another shrug. "Witness myself. Though if I take myself grovelling back to His presence, the remainder of my Grace will be restored."

His beer is reached for. "The fear not is Gabriel's schtick. Doesn't help he always appears in full blown glory. Most of the time you wouldn't know it were us. Even without the host. Or vessel. The vessel consents, though. This one was ending his life. He agreed this was a better choice. It may be one day he will reconsider his thoughts of ending his life. Until then, I have need, and this suits."

Melinda May has posed:
Of course May has been subjected to that movie. An old partner of hers was and is the biggest nerd that ever nerded. She knows FAR more pop culture trivia that she'll ever admit to.

"It's not funny when you're being offensive," she tells the blond-haired chimney stack. And then she nods toward Castiel as he explains. So there. She sips at her bourbon, if possible drinking it even more slowly than Bucky is drinking his beer. But then, she did have a beer while at the derby bout, so she has to be mindful.

Winter Soldier has posed:
It's certainly more expression than Buck's shown in....weeks, if not months. Clearly, he's boiling over with curiosity....but, belatedly, he remembers manners, or at least their semblance. "Huh," he says, finally. "Wow. Uh.....how do you get a tenant? I mean, a human....he consented. Did....like, did he hang out a 'body for rent, angelic renters only, please' sign?" ...surely that isn't Bucky considering handing over his body to an angel.

Constantine has posed:
John smirks at May. "Nah, that's when my brand of humour's best," he takes a drag of his cigarette and then finishes off his beer with one long final swallow.

"But don't want to bring down your date with an angel," John remarks fishing for a few bills to put on the table. "So, see you lot around," he says getting up from his chair. "Cas," he says giving the angel an upwards nod as he heads for the door.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel lifts his glass to Constantine. "John. Always a pleasure. McAnally's next?"

Though given the pair of them, any watering hole is just as likely.

He returns his attention to Buck. "Normally, we appear and ask. There are some of my kind who do not ask kindly. Less so since the deluge. We have become more insular and arrogant since those days."

His tones and his features gentle for the broken man.

"Your questions do not offend. Nor should you worry. I would suggest, though, that if you are thinking such thoughts that you do not. Not all of my brethren place such care in their vessels."

Then again, it's statements just like that that got Castiel tossed out of Heaven to 'think about what he'd just done' in the first place.

"I would protect you," he tells the soldier, even if Bucky has no clue what that means. May, on the other hand, might have an inkling.

Winter Soldier has posed:
It's a measure of how seriously Buck takes this that he doesn't wave away the statement or declare that he doesn't need protecting. He mulls over that reply, nods, finally. "Thank you," he says. "I'll remember that. I wasn't seriously considering it, but...."

He trails off. John gets a wave, one that leaves an arabesque of smoke behind it, before he takes another drag off the cigarette. Silk Cut may not be the same as unfiltered Luckies, but....sill nice to have.

Hellboy has posed:
    The natural sounds of the Harlem bar have started growing quieter as the night goes on, the sounds of glasses clinking and laughter echoing fading as new sounds join the world: The sounds of the door barging open, almost violently. The sounds of something clacking along the hard wooden floor as if someone were wearing hard clogs, or as if someone allowed a horse or goat to trot in here, a horse or goat that only had two legs. Moments after this, the sound of something heavy was clattered along the bar itself, and the telltale sounds of a match being struck, of a dull flame being held against a dry paper cigarette just long enough to ignite.

    There were smells accompanying these sounds, the smell of something that had been burnt, maybe something that had been in the oven too long. This was combined with a seperate but equally distinct smell, the smell of gunpowder...and the faint 'taste' of salt in the air. It was these combination of senses that wafted at the same time as the ears would pick up the heavy breathing, and a dull, smooth voice rolling out its request.

    "Shot of whiskey please, and can I get a beer? What k...anything, I don't care, anything please. Thank you. No it's fine, I have a license for it, it's supposed to be here."

    If anyone looked, they would see a red man who looked like he was trailing smoke, wearing what might have been a very cool tan trenchcoat, if not for its many holes, gashes, dark dried stains and black charred burn marks. On the bar next to him was an open, clearly unloaded shotgun, the almost antique looking weapon looking like it was covered in soot and...something unpleasant. Though usually standing tall, HB was actually leaned against the bar propped up on his left elbow, cigarette between two of his fingers as his red stone right hand just dangled at his side.

    Clearly, he's been hard at work.

Melinda May has posed:
Yes, May knows exactly what the implications of being under Castiel's protection are. She had more than one serious chat with the angel in regards to his concept of protecting and 'watching over' people.

"I'd have to back up Castiel there, Barnes. Letting a more powerful entity drive your body?" She shakes her head. "I wouldn't recommend it." Not for anyone, much less someone with his history of mental coercion.

Winter Soldier has posed:
Hellboy's appearance has Buck looking up....and he grins. "Red, hey," he says, waving over the big guy. "Come sit, have a drink," The dog at his side looks at Hellboy curiously, tilting her head one way and then the other. What is this?

May gets a faintly shame-faced look, but he nods. Why on earth would the idea of that appeal to him? Maybe taking a vacation from his own body for a while. He's got the end of a cigarette in one hand, and a beer on the table before him.

Captain America has posed:
And look what the cat dragged in, on the tail of Red and the service dog at Bucky's side: none other than Steve Rogers himself. Dressed in a brown leather jacket with shearling lapels and jeans, he's got his combat boots on and smells of night air, cologne, and a bit of motorcycle oil. The bike's parked outside of the front of the establishment.

He walks over to the table with a lift of his hand and greets the group as a whole. "I'd say this's a proper party. Hey, girl," he adds, offering a hand out for Lili to sniff but not petting her, seeing as she's on-duty. Bucky gets a more disappointed look even if there's no comment made aloud. Tsk. Cigarettes. "Sorry that I'm late. Paperwork," he explains to the table along with a shrug.

Castiel has posed:
Well, there's a sight: Hellboy. Quite literally a demon. Other than, you know, the lack of the vile corrupted soul and the ever present stench of things worse than that. Okay, he's got that brimstone thing going on. And the gunpowder smell isn't doing him any favours either. Still, in the grander scheme of things, John Contantine is just as problematic as this self-effacting hulking creature of a man that the other are greeting amicably and calling "Red".

That it's Bucky who is most notably accepting of Hellboy holds the sharpest edge of Castiel's tongue.

"I will take it that this is a friend of yours?" His question open to the remaining ones at the table, but mostly rhetorical.

Then to Hellboy himself, "Most of your kind take more care to disguise themselves. You are an enigma." He doesn't quite echo Buck's invitation to join them, but neither does he jump up and launch into the usual angelic reaction, or actively dissuade him. And luckily, Steve's arrival on the tale end of that allows the man to turn his attention elsewhere for the moment, and to pretend that he hasn't just been faced with one of those dilemnas of how to proceed.

"You are the Captain of the Americas. I have seen your picture. The Derby girls have gone. I am led to believe you will be relieved by that."

Because some of the things they said to Castiel would have gone over even more poorly in the face of Steve.

"If we are having a party, then we will need more alcohol." Shuffling over to make room for the newcomers.

Melinda May has posed:
May looks over at Hellboy, and immediately her eyes flick toward Castiel. She can't help but think he's taking the BPRD agent's presence far better than he might have even as recently as a year or two ago. And then, with Steve arriving to join them, any other comment she might have offered is held back. "I'll go get us more drinks. Any preference, Rogers?" She figures Barnes will be fine with another beer -- yes, she knows that she's currently the only one at their table who has any risk of inebriation to worry about, but her barely-touched glass of bourbon proves she's being mindful of it.

She's already planning to get Castiel another Apocalypse flight with Boilermaker chaser. She'd consider having the bartender make something exotic looking and tasting, but she's not at all sure that the flavor won't be lost on the angel. Still...

Yeah. She's going to sneak a shot of Fireball in with the whiskeys.

Hellboy has posed:
    The big guy had just planned on a long night of drinking alone before drunkenly trying to find his rathole in Gotham. The presence of SHIELD, and the presence of heroes, changes that and caused the big man to look over with a rare look of surprise on his ugly mug. Shot was downed, pitcher of beer was taken in his left hand, and his right stone hand grabbed that shotgun off the counter by the barrel, slinging the buttstock over his shoulder as he made his journey over. He saw Captain America, but didn't say anything. Honestly, to Hellboy he was still the larger than life figure seen on posters and trading cards around the base.

    He would have had more thoughts about the Sentinel of Liberty being right there in the flesh, and he would have turned his attention toward Bucky's pooch at some point, but the guy with the mouth started talking. Now, to any stranger or even casual acquaitance, they'd never be able to tell what a guy like Hellboy was thinking. His face had precisely ONE look, with maybe slight variations depending on the day or situation. But the more Castiel spoke, the more Hellboy's tail twitched here and there...and the more the lines and symbols carved into Hellboy's right hand began to flicker with glowing yellow light...the same way they glowed when he was being punched in the face. Or punching someone in the face.

    "My kind, yeah. You know it's the damndest thing we usually do disguise ourselves, but I've got Gothamite written all over my face I guess, but ya know there are worse things oh whoah whoah whoaaaah!"

    Suddenly. Suspiciously. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Hellboy suddenly had extreme problems with his balance, accidentally lurching in such a way that his pitcher of beer(He never bothered with getting glasses) was flicked. This flicking motion was just enough, for an avalanche of foamy cheap beer to make its way toward Castiel's shirt, or face, or really, anything.

    "Oh that's the damndest thing...I'm sorry about that, really I am, are you alright?"

    Somewhere there might be a hostage, reading from a script while staring at masked gunmen. That hypothetical hostage's voice would be more convincing than Hellboy's right now.

Winter Soldier has posed:
It's slowly sinking in to Bucky that there might be a problem there. He's never taken Hellboy's origins as any kind of indication of his moral alignment. How could he, considering he's known the BPRD agent since Hellboy was a squawling scarlet moppet small enough to sleep in Bucky's rucksack....and that he and Steve have walked the ash-dusted grounds where bodies were stacked like cordwood. When you've seen the ultimate proof of man's inhumanity to man (and in some cases, *been* that proof), it's hard to find any kind of knee-jerk moral superiority in mortal origins.

But now his pale gaze is darting between Hellboy and Castiel with the tick-tock rhythm of a spectator at a tennis match, before it settles on the angel. "He's cool," he informs Castiel earnestly. "He's one of the good guys. It's not his fault he got dragged here, and he's done a lot to figh-"

And then there's the beer, and Bucky's on his feet, frowning. "Red!" he says, and it's suddenly Drill Sergeant Barnes who is Very, Very Disappointed With You. "C'mon. A man can't help where he's from." And he's wading in between them with the very obvious intention of making sure that if they wanna start trading blows or shooting lightning out of their noses or whatever it is angels do in barfights, he'll be in the way. Steve gets a *look* over his shoulder, vintage '40's. Usually when DumDum told the joke about the hat and the French girl to exactly the wrong member of La Resistance in some Marseilles dockside dive. Help. Me. Out. Here.

Captain America has posed:
"Red ale," Steve replies to May with a warm smile. "Make it a pint, please." He's sure to add the expression of gratitude along with the addendum. The man then turns as if to greet Hellboy in particular, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of seeing one of the oddest little (no longer little) beings for the first time in a very long time -- but he's about as quick as Bucky on the draw about the brewing disruption to come.

His shoulders square back and he draws up that extra half-inch out of comfortable slouch into parade-grounds stern, his jaw gritted. He knows there are powers held at bay; he read the files. To Castiel he replies, "Yes, Captain Rogers. Pleased to meet you. You're Castiel, right?"

But then the beer flies and he's back-to-back with Barnes, facing Castiel instead of Red himself.

"It's not worth it," he warns the angel quietly and sternly. "He's young and he's got a head full of steam. This isn't the time or the place. Let it be."

Castiel has posed:
The beer? That was a nice touch. Or a not so nice touch depending on how you actually looked at such things, and the sincerity of Hellboy's 'apology' has Castiel rising to his feet in one swift and smooth motion, a blade suddenly appearing in his hand. At the moment, it's only as long as his forearm, but it's most definitely a blade, and to one such as Hellboy, he probably can tell just how very angelic that thing is.

Castiel isn't just any old angel, he's one of the premier Warriors of the Lord, and his blade has seen more battles than that shotgun of Red's.

"Maybe you would like to take this outside?" Castiel's voice is the low powerful rumble of one with power. He might be without full Grace, but he has enough of it.

Steve jumping into the fray, however, joining in with Bucky to soothe both men's fractured egos (and long standing territorial issues) is unexpected.

"I would be Castiel," he confirms, pointing his blade at Hellboy. "And he is one of the Damned. Why do you consort with demons."

More a demand than a question, and said with about as much disgust as you'd expect an angel - an alcohol loving angel - to express when a demon has wasted a perfectly good pitcher of beer saying 'hello' by dumping it in your face.

Melinda May has posed:
May doens't make it more than three steps when Red's beer tumps all over Castiel -- and likely some on Lili, too. And just as quickly, she's moving to defuse this situation, starting off with grabbing Castiel's arm that has suddenly sprouted a very shiny blade. If he wants to use it, he'll have to deal with her first.

"I think Castiel is right, we all need to step outside where we have room to speak calmly and rationally. Barnes, your dog is dripping beer. I think you need to take her home and wash that off. Rogers, if you and Hellboy could wait for us outside?"

She then turns to give Castiel a significant look and squeeze his arm quite firmly. It's a wordless admonition to hide the blade before they all get in trouble.

Hellboy has posed:
    Hellboy looks at Bucky, and though his face is the same as ever, the drooping of the lids and the shrug suggests that he's about to say something similar to an apology, before the Flaming Holy Avenger of +4 Smiting is unsheathed, and Hellboy's focus is again entirely on Castiel. The angel is no doubt used to wicked things recoiling in terror and fear, or at least apprehension. But the red-skinned creature in the coat is just staring him down, as if this were a man to man confrontation.

    "You wanna see a real demon, pal? I hear there's a guy down in Arkham who's learned ventriloquism. Or if you want, instead we-"

    Bucky and Steve are joined by May, and instantly, at least from HB's perspective, at least a little bit of the tension has deflated. After many long moments of silence, before James was out the door, only then did Hellboy speak again.

    "Bucky...sorry about Lilly. Should probably uhh...wash her, I guess."

    He took a step backward...an invitation for Castiel to do the same, an invitation for the two of them to not escalate things further.

Winter Soldier has posed:
There is, indeed, beer on Lili...and as a result, a spark of cold fury in Buck's face. He gives May a look....but something in her manner has him bobbing his head in assent, and heading for the door. Lili isn't upset - she's just trying to lick the beer off her muzzle.

"It's not what you think," he tells Castiel, but his tone is weary. "It's not where you come from. It's what you do." By which lights, he's a hundred times the monster the big red guy is. He does, however, leave it at that, vanishing out into the cool spring night.

Castiel has posed:
May's intervention is not only timely, but gives the angel more than enough excuse to 'hold' so to speak. But it is Bucky he addresses, "You never asked why I was here. I fell for saving a life that was damned. For refusing to accept what was Written and allowing a soul to rot in damnation because of some stupid war that has no meaning anymore. Or allowing your kind to be pawns. I chose to stay here when nothing more than a a simple apology would return me to my rightful place in the Choir. Don't tell me what I already know."

His blade merely isn't there anymore, and with a quiet nod to May, the angel shrugs his shoulders, rolling them some in a gesture that tightens the rumpled fabric of his trench coat along them before loosening again, he declares, "I will be outside, waiting."

For whom, he doesn't say, but he is not there any longer. Much like the blade, he has merely *left*. (He is, of course, outside as he said he would be).

Captain America has posed:
"We don't consort with demons," Steve fires back at Castiel, his tone as flat and keen as the blade now on display. "He's about as demonic as rush hour towards Kennedy Airport." Which to say is ugly, but one just has to be patient with it. Thank god May steps in -- the Captain's fists were clenched at his side, especially in light of the secondary realization of Bucky's discomfort over his dog's state. His terse nod accompany's his friend's statement and given the hand on Castiel's arm, he dares to look away to watch the Soldier leave with bemused, beer-soaked dog in tow.

The angel blinks away and that leaves Captain Rogers to turn his own variation a Very Disappointed Look at Hellboy in particular. "You heard May. Outside. March."

Hellboy has posed:
    And then Hellboy was standing there, his left hand held up in a gesture of surrender, or frustration, or somewhere between the two. He was looking at Steve a mmoment, opening his mouth to say something, but it was with a sigh that whatever it was was lost on the wind. For his part, HB didn't teleport, he just had to walk slowly and awkwardly toward the door to the outside, no more drunk than when he entered, which meant his current mission was a staggering failure. At this stage of his life, he was somewhat used to that.

    Outside the air was nice, perhaps a bit cool for some, perhaps not. But for the red-skinned Agent, even wearing just his black shorts and an unbuttoned trenchcoat, whatever the state of the weather it didn't seem to affect him in the slightest. The almost forgotten Marlboro inbetween his left fingers returned to his mouth, where almost damn near the whole thing was inhaled and burned through, before one massive smoke signal was released into the sky. It was only after looking upward, that HB was finally able to turn his attention to the angel, as he spoke to the man directly.

    "So, look, sorry back there. Sometimes I've got a bit of a temper. And sometimes I'm not proud of it."

    A moment of silence. And then.

    "Well, ok. More than sometimes."

Melinda May has posed:
May waits for Hellboy and Steve to exit after Bucky, then once she's sure Castiel has reconcealed his blade she leads him out as well, but not without pausing at the bar and leaving them a VERY generous tip as an apology for the mess Hellboy just made.

Once they're outside, she is honestly relieved to have Hellboy step up and apologize without her having to scold him like some ill-mannered child. Because of this she doesn't step in to say anything, she insetad looks at Castiel to see his reaction to the apology. She's still very much ready to step in and stop them again, and she's not afraid to pull a taser to do so.

Captain America has posed:
Having exited the bar alongside Hellboy as to be certain of his actions as well as his personal safety, Steve then stands off to one side. His own eyes travel between Red and the angel. His arms are folded and by the set of his jaw, he's just as ready as May to leap in and attempt to separate combatants should it come to it.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel has had a few moments alone between his departure and the others joining him, moments he's used to mince words to himself. "We do not consort with demons," he echoes Steve's words. "And yet, there one was. If that isn't consorting, I don't know what is."

He's still grumbling to himself when the others slowly trickle out, the angel, regretably, still arguing with himself over a variation of 'he started it' to present to Agent May - even if he also knows full well his greeting to Hellboy was just this shy of a full on accusation and invitation for a fight; that Hellboy had added the oh so elequent fuck you of a pitcher of beer was merely a pointed reply to Cas's own unspoken words.

He watches Hellboy suck back on that Marlboro and send smoke signals into the air, much as their breaths are sending spirals into the chill evening skies. He waits. The apology, when it comes, surprises him, though his surprise manifests in a scowl.

"None of us are proud of everything we do. Only fools can say that. You don't look like Michael. I'd say you're not a fool."

Which is, in Castiel speak, as close to a like apology, or an acceptance that you're going to get.

Hellboy has posed:
    On some level, Hellboy still felt like he was being goaded, but now that he knew what to expect with this guy, he wasn't gonna rise to it so easily. Instead he just looked over at Melinda and Steve in the corner, as he spoke.

    "Yeah, you know you guys have a real charmer on your hands, here. Might not wanna send this guy on any peace treaties to Latveria any time soon, Doom's bombed countries for less."

    After a final look over at Castiel, the red-skinned man gave a final snort, and started making his way to the subway station. And maybe find a bar with friendlier locals. Maybe find the one Captain Cold and the Juggernaut always went to. That would almost be an improvement.

Castiel has posed:
Castiel bears Hellboy's derision with uncharacteristically good grace (for him), only a scowl to show for his displeasure. He does, however, turn his attention to May, and she gets a much more carefully worded, "This is not how I had wished our date to end. I will forgo the kiss if you were expecting one. I would like to ask that you allow me to take you to a place I think you will enjoy much better next time. There is a matinee at the end of the week. It is a black and white movie, Strangers on a Train. I would be glad if you would accompany me."

Adding, with that alarmingly charming boyish look that lights the blue in his eyes, "I promise there will be no smiting."

Melinda May has posed:
Hellboy turns and leaves before May can voice what crosses her mind -- namely that she already KNEW they had a real piece of work on their hands with Castiel. He's improving. A bit.

She looks over at Steve and nods as he also takes his leave, then finally looks at Castiel. "I did not expect that to happen. Come on, you'll need to launder those clothes to get the beer smell out."

Castiel has posed:
And thus a protesting, and really not sure *why* he has to launder his clothes Castiel is led off. In the annals of disastrous dates.. this one almost got to rank.