8146/Suprise Party! Supernatural Invite

Suprise Party! Supernatural Invite
Date of Scene:	02 July 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	In which Darcy tries to con Dean back to SHIELD but manages only to get him to agree to come party with her leading Luke to suspect she might have been send to spy on him - Darcy laughed too hard at that one! Or Darcy is SHIELD's best recruiter and should get commission for this.
Cast of Characters:	Dean Winchester, Darcy Lewis, Luke Cage

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Dean Winchester has posed:
Summertime in Harlem. Really, it's said to be a rough time of year. Heat makes people get antsy. Do crazy things. For Dean Winchester, that couldn't be more true. After all, he's come back to town. Which is crazy enough as it is. The Impala parked out front of Luke's Bar is like a beacon to those who have seen it. Who are familair with it. Then again, it -is- a beautiful machine and nobody could be blamed for wanting a closer look.

Cloudy outside. Rain coming at any minute, you can smell it in the air. Promising a fresh start to the day for everyone. Or a total mess. Dean took the turn of weather as a sign. Stop for a drink, maybe a bite to eat if there's a kitchen in the place. Finding himself on a bar stool at Luke's, Dean Winchester nurses a beer. Cellphone sitting infront of him next to a bowl of pistachios. He doesn't like waiting but sometimes you just have to bite the bullet.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Fresh starts. And an inter-team practice before the 4th of July. And a text from an old friend. The latter is what had Darcy Lewis out and about in Harlem, where she spotted 'Pala, the beautiful black obscene-noise-creator of a vehicle parked outside Luke's. She smiles and makes her way in, her lumpy gym bag over her shoulder. Still slightly sweat damp, she heads to the bar, drops her bag on the floor under the stool next to Dean, and then just drapes herself over his back so she can reach for a green nut.

"Hiya, Handsome! Long time no see. How's it hangin'?" she asks, the drape counting as a hug so when the nut is collected and hug given, Darcy clambers up to the stool and sets her flip-flop covered feet on her gym bag. The pistacho's cracked open with her teeth and the green nut nommed.

She smiles, lipstickless (which is slightly odd) and without glasses (completely odd! Darcy's blinder than a bat!!). Her unnatural pink eyes (thsoe have to be contacts. her eyes are green) dancing brightly.

Dean Winchester has posed:
The little ding of a bell above the door gets those green eyes to... Darcy? An eyebrow arches high as Dean Winchester leans back from the bar. Lifting his beer for a long sip as he watches an old friend on the approach. An old friend that just got back from the gym? An upnod, Dean offers an easy smile. Sunny even on a cloudy day. Motioning for the bartender with a waggle of an empty bottle. Universal sign. One of those few things a person can always rely on. Like a baseball bat.

"Oh, it's hangin'. It's hangin'." Dean chuckles under a breath, leaning to the side so he can pull a wallet free. Cash out and on the bar before he gives Darcy an amused once over after the walking taser storm takes a seat beside him. "Look like you ran here, Darcy. I know it's good to see me but is it really that good? Coulda taken a cab, right?"

A play wink, Dean takes his new beer in hand and lifts it in cheers to Darcy before a sip. "So how you been, Darc? Still work for The Man?" He asks with bemused side eye while digging around for the -right- pistachio.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"No. I walked. From a scrimmaged. Those Harlem Honeys thinkin' they all tough shit. Grid Iron put the smack down... Nah, jay kay. The Honeys are awesome and I love them. But it was a scrimmage. I actually jammed and scored a few points. So, go me," Darcy rambles happily, ordering a beer for herself as she sets one hand on Dean's cash and holds out a card to the bar tender with the other.

"His carrying Monopoly Money, man. Give us a tab," she tells the bar tender, oh so seriously, and then beams a smile at Dean.

"I've been alright. And yes, still working for the Man. You could too, you know. WAND's still a thing. And I'm now heading up MOSS, so if you needed specialty items for soem of your work, I can totally hook you up," Darcy says, body turning a bit in her stool to face her buddy, saluting back when she gets her beer.

Dean Winchester has posed:
"To be fair, saw a couple of those uniforms pass by earlier and I can see why they'd get that idea." He says with a cough behind a loose fist. Clearing his throat and supressing a smirk, Dean pulls the pistachio shell apart. Prying it apart like some kind of savage. "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Roller Derby." He says suddenly with either sudden acceptance of dawning memory. "I'll have to come see that some time. You know, support the team. Huge fan. Of the team." A sip and a beat, he leans closer for a moment.

"What was the name if that team again?" A chuckle, he leans back and nods to the bartender. Hell yes, he's fine with her covering the tab. "Tequila too." Quick to add on, he returns full attentiom back to Darcy.

"Oh, no, no." He laughs and waves it off dramatically. "Me behind a desk? I'd fashion a noose out of scotch tape in less than a week." He laughs, catches himself and clears his throat. "Not that, you know, it's not important work. Darcy." A quick subject change. Too quick. "Hold up now. What's MOSS? Or do you literally have to kill me in this situation? Do I get a head start?"

Darcy Lewis has posed:
About to make a snide remark about him being a fan of the boobs more than the team, Darcy snickers at his aside instead.

"I'm skating with Gridiron Gals out of Midtown, right now. Sometimes, I skate for Liberty Belles," she reminds him, shaking her head lightly, chuckling. She grins as he orders his tequila, drinking some beer.

"No offense taken, and it's called Field Assignment, dumbass," she replies, chuckling and reaching in for a nut.

"MOSS. Medical, Office, and Support Supplies. And no, I don't have to kill you for that. But if I did, head start won't help. I've got an office full of super spies, super soldiers, world-class assassins, an angel and a God. So... Cheers," Darcy says, lifting her beer and taking another drink.

Dean Winchester has posed:
Dean snap-points to Darcy and knocks back his shot of bottom shelf tequila with a faint wince. Shotglass in hand, he gestures lazily with it as he talks. "Gridiron Gals. I'm gonna need one of those t-shirts. Not the shorts though. Probably for the best." He scoffs at the correction. A roll of those green eyes before he slides his shotglass aside in favor of that beer bottle.

"Field Assignment? I... ehhhhhh... I'll have to get back to you." Dean says, nudging the snack bowl closer to Darcy. An upnod to a man that walks past, taking a seat in the back corner. Maybe they know eachother. Maybe it's just the upnod of accidental eye contact. No, judging by the glance back at the stranger, Dean knew him. He doesn't pay the older gentleman in the Jets cap any more mind.

"Hey, Darc. That's incredible. I bet the pay is worth the trouble. It better be." Lifting his beer bottle to tap against hers in cheers, Dean takes a sip then asks the obvious question. "So they let you be in charge of super spies. Did you get one of them flying cars? You can tell me. I won't spread it around but I aaaaabsolutely want a ride. Wait. Drive. Can I drive it?"

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"Come to the game... oooh better yet! Come to the office party. I'll give you a shirt, and then you can rock it at the game on Saturday!" Darcy says happily, pink eyes bright. She giggles as Dean waffles on the Still There job offer. As she recalled, he was the one that was the least happy with SHIELD work. His brother had agreed to it. She glances at the man he upnodded, only briefly, before looking back at Dean.

"The pay's decent, but the pay's steady. And those specialty supplies? They're just that... supplies. And if you break 'em, you ain't charged for 'em. Long as the paperwork's in order. And Dean? I am a Goddess at the paperwork. And no. You may not drive the Lola. She's a goddamm Lady and no one drives her. But, with the right certs, you could drive The Bus. Or a quinjet. Or both. I got to drive The Bus once. I think it might have been mostly on autopilot? But still. Me. So.. anyway. party? I'll text yo uthe address."

Dean Winchester has posed:
"I'm as good as there. You kidding me? If somebody sat me down in front of a computer and some guy in a lab coat with the -distinct- job of making my favorite sport? He'd either come up with Roller Derby or full contact golf." Dean says with casual conviction. That's a thing, right? Right. The office party he mulls over during a sip off his beer. Finally, his palm hits the bar top. "Sold. You got yourself a Winchester. Open bar, right?"

Finishing off his beer, Dean laughs and wipes his mouth with the back of a sleeve before laying a couple bills down on the bar for his tip. "Flying car or bust. I'll get you to let me drive Lola, Darcy." Standing up from his stool, he glances back to the older man in the Jets cap. The man gets yp to leave. "Dacy, it was great to see you again. Get yourself a shower." He says with a chuckle and claps her lightly on the shoulder as he passes. "Hit me up with that address."

Luke Cage has posed:
The bartender of the moment has been an older white man, who based on the name called down to him from a regular at the far end, is named Roy. He does a decent job keep an eye on drinks and showing up when it's getting time for another. Though soon he has help, as a very large black man emerges from the back. Clean-shaved head and a very neatly trimmed goatee. Tony Stark eat your heart out. Not just big, but muscular, wearing an old comfortable looking tan knit shirt, with just enough wear on it to suggest it's probably a favorite that he can't bring himself to part with yet, but not so bad as to look trashy.

Look surveys the bar, nodding his head to a few people down at the end. Roy raises a hand and Luke waves him on towards the back, "Go take a break, Roy," he confirms, then comes down to where Darcy and Dean were sitting. "Need another?" he asks Darcy as he sees the man finish off his beer and leave.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"Sure. And some wings?" she asks, taking another pull of her first beer. She turns her body back to the bar, fingers reachign for a pistachio to crack open. A grin still sits on her lips from Dean's parting words even as she's pulling out her phone to send a few texts. The first, to Dean himself. Date, Time, Address. And a winkie face blowing a heart emoji.

Luke Cage has posed:
"Wings coming up. Extra blazing three alarm-fire? Or just regular blazing?" he asks as he picks up his phone. The Mongolian barbecue down the street does the ribs and a few other dishes for him, and when he gets her answer, Luke will tap out the order to them.

He goes over to grab her another beer, twisting the cap off and wrapping the bottle in a napkin before setting it before her. The SHIELD logo catches his eyes, causing the black man's head to tilt to the side a bit. "Alright, I'm going to start to wonder if you guys are watching me or something," he says, though sounding like he's joking as he taps at the logo on her phone. Not that she'd be displaying the logo if she was covertly surveilling him.

Unless she did it intentionally so he'd not think she was. Oh, dastardly, dastardly SHIELD agents!

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"Nah. Just dem regular ol' wings, please? I'm not mentally prepared for melt my face," Darcy replies as she's tapping out her next text to Eva Destruction, asking for a G.I.G. shirt. Her tongue's poking out of one corner of her mouth, and her pink eyes double blink when Luke taps her phone.

"Huh?" Darcy asks, so eloquently, so intelligently. And intelligently, Darcy turns her phone around to look at the SHIELD logo sticker thing she slapped on it. It was mostly a joke, buying those. She still had several in her desk drawer at work. Those, and a large bag of assorted size googly eyes. Darcy's mental health sometimes required minor vandalization.

"Oh." she says, like she's seeing the logo for the first time but really it's because Luke's words now make way more sense.

"Yeah. No. I'm not watching you. But I can if you like? I'm not the one that's kitted for that shit. Really. Just here to have a beer with a friend, eat some o' yo' wings, and rest after practice," Darcy says, grinning as she picks up a leg and plops it on the stool next to her to stretch it out. "Why? You think you someone to watch? Cuz? I can call it in? If you want me to?" Darcy offers, rather sweetly considering Luke has her debit card and has an open tab for her.

Luke Cage has posed:
Luke sends off the order. The place is just a door or two down the street and the smells that come out of it are always fantastic. Though everyone that goes in there expects to see some Mongolian grillmaster. Instead they see Chet. He's a chubby black youth in his twenties with thick glasses, but damn can he cook. It'll be about 10 minutes, but he shows up with the wings. "Thanks Chet," Luke tells him, setting the plate of steaming hot wings down in front of Darcy. "Still hot, watch your fingers," he tells her. He adds a bunch of napkins and some wet wipes, plus whatever dipping sauce she might have asked for if any.

Luke leans against the back counter then, crossing his arms and saying, "Nah, just there was another agent in here a few nights back. Britain. Got in here just as it started pouring rain," he says before picking up a rag and starting to wipe the bar down, not that it needs it.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"Really? Was she hot?" Darcy asks, happily taking the ranch cup and opening it, ready to tuck into the hot wings when they stop being so temperature hot. She finishes her text for the shirt, and sets her phone down, because the next text is going to take some thought before she sends it. Taking to the SO usually does

Luke Cage has posed:
Luke walks over and fills a glass with ice and then adds water, taking the glass to sip from himself as he answers Darcy. Luke considers the question, but not needing to consider very long before his head begins a nodding that starts slow but gets more emphatic. "Fairly hot, I'd say," he says. "Though if you're going to tell her that, tell her it came from Roy," he says with a soft grin.

Luke has someone at the far end of the bar call and he goes down, pouring him a draft and serving it up, before he makes his way back down to the other end of the bar again. He grabs a glass to begin polishing it, not that it looks like it needs it. Actually, the whole bar is kept in very good shape. It seems like the kind of place that is a labor of love and not just a group of employees taking care of it.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"Sure. I'll tell her. Only three hot brits I know that work with me. So, I'll tell all of them and see which one looks the least confused," Darcy promises on a sagenod and a mischevious grin. Like, she's got zero intention of asking Luke for the name of the hot brit SHIELD chick. Nope. Just gonna go and tell them all. Because that sounds like fun. She polishes off her first beer, then tucks into the hot wings, dipping them in ranch to help mask the burn.

"I do like the place though, man." she complements after two wings are down.

Luke Cage has posed:
"Thank you," Luke says, looking around the bar. "Haven't had it very long. Wasn't much to see when I bought it. But I like how it's shaping up," he says, as if there's still work to do. Though the place looks pretty darn good as it is.

Luke goes over to check on the register, closing it up after and then returning to get a sip of his water. "Haven't see you around the neighborhood before. Live out this way or were you just passing through," he inquires as he begins wiping down the beer spouts. There's a dozen of them with different brews, including three that are tasty ones you probably rarely find in a bar this size.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
"Passing through. Had a scrimmage against your girls, Harlem Honeys, and it let out 'bout the same time I was meeting my buddy so... figured I'd stop and really enjoy, you know?" Darcy replies, feet swinging a little. It makes her frame bounce a bit sa she eats, unaware of the hot sauce ranch mixture at one corner of her mouth.

Luke Cage has posed:
From down at the other end of the bar, someone calls, "Oh yeah? You scrimmaged the Honeys!? How'd it go? Better not have bruised up Doris too much." One of the other men with him laughs and says, "Would have figured you wouldn't mind if she had, way Doris always bruises you up, Butch."

Luke shakes his head as the group of men break out in laughter at Butch's expense while Butch is loudly protesting his innocence. It was a /door/ opening fast. Right Butch.

Luke leans finishes the latest round of polishing to ask Darcy, "Roller derby right? So how'd you manage to get into that, anyway?" he asks as he walks back over, checking on her drinks and food to see if she needs anything else while he's there.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Darcy looks over, grinning broadly.

"Laid that bitch out, but she gave good as she got," Darcy replies, leaning over and pulling up her short shorts to reveal the fresh and still darkening butt bruise she got. Wasn't from Doris, but the meat heads don't need to know that. Plus, it's free butt shot. She's laughing right along with them, settling back down to continue her conversation with Luke.

"Ex-boyfriend got me hooked, actually. He thought I'd look hot in the fishnets. Found out I did. He dumped me when I got a little drunk at a team christmas party and started making out with my jammer. WHich was stupid. Not like I didn't tell him up front I liked 'em both. Stupid fuck," she rambles. Her fresh beer's about half gone, and she's about as far into her order of wings and ranch sauce. He's able to bus Dean's things and scoop up the cash tip he left on his way out.

"You should think about sponsoring them? Find a honey mead or something to serve as a special. I can give you Bev's number if you want? She's in charge of that crap. Could be nice for them, to have an after bout hangout, ya know? And the fans post game seem to already be here."

Luke Cage has posed:
Luke picks up Dean's empty, transferring the bottle to the trash can for glass as he listens to Darcy. He runs a clean rag over the spot Dean had been as he says, "I'll have to talk to them," he agrees. "Though I don't know, have a bunch of roller derby ladies in her drinking? Knowing these bums," Luke says loudly enough that Butch and friends will hear him, and see as Luke thumbs in their direction, "They'll probably get thrown out the window by the ladies. And those windows are expensive!" he complains.

It draws more laughter and banter from the men down there, including from one who gave a bit of a wolf whistle when Darcy showed the bruise. "That's Jake," Luke says of the whistler. His eyes move to meet Darcy and he just gives a subtle shake of his head. Not good, that one.

Darcy Lewis has posed:
Darcy laughs at this, catching Luke's warning look about Jake and replying with a nod.

"I'll tell her to call you," Darcy promises, artfully selling the fact that she was nodding about Eva talking to Luke.

"And I'll tell her to make sure she has the girls throw them out the front door instead of the windows. Just for you," she adds on a coo, finishing her wings and beer before wiping up and closing her tab.

"Great to meet you. I'll have to swing by this way again. Have a good one," she says, waving and collecting her gym bag on her way out.