8913/Someone's Lucky Day

Someone's Lucky Day
Date of Scene:	22 August 2019
Location:	The Sailor Pub and Bar, Mutant Town
Synopsis:	Domino and Logan share a drink, a cigar, and thoughts on geopolitics.
Cast of Characters:	Wolverine, Domino

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Wolverine has posed:
It's no smoke-filled, clapboard shack serving moonshine out of dirty glasses, but the Sailor Pub and Bar resides in New York City's own Mutant Town which gives it an air of menace and danger all its own. It's doing a decent enough trade for the time of week and night, a gang of garish-looking mutants occupying one corner and loudly recounting some story or another. A few more sombre individuals line the bar, nursing their drinks and staring up at the corner-mounted television playing the second of the series between the Metropolis Monarchs and the Toronto Blue Jays.

"Turn that shit off," Logan growls at the bartender, not looking up from the mug of beer on the counter before him, "Wesson can't pitch for love or money, and Torres hits like a freight train. He'll knock it out of the - "

Thwock! On the screen, the crowd goes wild as Torres hits a homer.

" - park. See."

A bulbous man with eyes like a fish sitting a few seats down from the Canuck grins and stretches out a blubbery, scaley arm to slowly drag a wad of half-folded bills across the bar and back towards himself.

"Pleasure doin' business wit' ya, Logan."

"Blow it out yer ass, Fishguts."

Domino has posed:
    "Always making friends everywhere you go with your immense charm and glowing personality," says the feminine voice all too familiar behind him. Domino stands there, the nautical theme on par with that dark patc over one eye. The pale mercenary steps closer and without asking lifts one leg and settles onto the stool right beside the grizzled mutant.

    "You know it gets boring when I can figure out where I am likely to find you." The bartender moves closer as she utters this and she lifts her hand. "Bourbon, rocks...and get him another drink. I am thinking he needs a pick me up," she says and sets down her money on the counter as she adjusts the way the gun rests against her side beneath the blouse she's worn, the deep blue complimenting her eyes and the denim she wears.

    SHe leans into the bar and nods her thanks as the drink is set down before her. "How have you been? Luck not with you today it seems...hopefully not a bad run of it."

Wolverine has posed:
"Yeah, well, my ballet class was cancelled so I had t'make alternative arrangements."

Logan doesn't seem to shift or turn to face Domino when she arrives. The slightest wrinkle of his nose suggesting hers was a scent he picked up before she announced herself. When she puts her money on the counter he only looks at it, but makes no move to try and reject the offer or to pay himself.

"Been fine," hunched shoulders lift and fall in a lazy jerk, "Got some money riding on this series. Figured the Jays were due, but then the 'Narchs come out with shit like that. Metropolis, huh? Kid's probably a fuggin' robot or a space alien or somethin'."

Only then does he turn slightly, resting an elbow on the bar and turning to take her in with a critical eye: "It's good t'see you, Neena. Been a long damn time."

Domino has posed:
    "Glad to know you are still trying to keep light on your feet. I hear dancing helps with other physical activities. Really helps the flow," Domino says, her blue eyes looking up at the television when he goes on to talk abou the series.

    "Never had a reason to watch myself. Everyone has a chance to be..different these days."

    The ice tinks about in her glass as she lifts it and takes a gulp of the rich caramel colored liquid. When he turns she smiles and the glass lowers lowly to rest on the bar so she can lean into her elbows and bend her wrest, brushing fingers along the edge of her glass.

    "Too damn long, Logan." One sharp blue eyes and then the other ensconced in that pale countenace settles on him. "I think you just need a good luck charm." She leans in and gives him a sniff. "Or maybe a shower." She chuckles and that shit eating grin very briefly pulls at her dark lips. If he doesn't move her hand lifts she knuckles his jaw lightly before the same hand takes up her glass once more. "Besides ballet and gambling, what else have you gotten into?"

Wolverine has posed:
"Forty kilos and change of Adamantium," Logan scoffs, tapping two fingers to his temple, "I'll take all the light-on-my-feet I can get."

The Canuck stays just where he is as Domino's knuckles graze his jaw, brushing through what is probably no more than a few days growth on his jaw yet already looks like a beard threatening to break loose and cover his whole face like a Hipster Apocalypse. He doesn't seem to react, just sitting there with that faint half-smile on his face.

"I'll have you know," he says pointedly, a smile on his face already betraying the joke to come, "I washed just last night. Some ladies like my nat'ral musk."

He scoops the beer glass up off the counter, taking a sip that turns into a gulp and resting it back down on the cloth runner that soaks up years' worth of spills and other bar accidents.

"Not up to much else. Still upstate at the School. Doin' security of all things. Mosta the time it's an excuse to day drink."

Domino has posed:
    "Too true, I give you credit for recognizing your greatest asset and greatest weakness," Domino compliments him, lifting her glass in half cheer until she sees that smile. There is a quirk of her lips in near echo of it, a light reflection of what she sees but more sardonic and wry. It causes her bright blue eyes to narrow as her cheeks rise and she finally laughs.

    Bourbon is drunk. Ice melts. Neena lowers her glass once more and she draws a deep breath, letting out a sigh. "Not that you can smell anything about you in a dive like this." The bartender looks at her. "Its true," she assures him on how she views their location. "But that's how I figured you might be here. I like to take my chances." She tilts her head to the side a bit, dark hair shifting about her chin and cheek.

    "Ahh well, I think I met some of your charges not but a day ago. I can see why you drink. The students have /really/ changed over the years at Xaviers. Got some more spunk and attitude on them. They /will/ be the death of you, Logan when nothing else will."

    She taps the side of her glass to signal for another.

Wolverine has posed:
Logan laughs, reaching into his pocket and producing a wrapped cigar of the sort of cheap brand one can find at a gas station or convenience store. The bartender gives him a look, but the Wolverine only returns it and the man behind the bar simply waves a dismissive hand and goes back to counting his tips. Satisfied there's going to be no grief, Logan produces another and holds it out in Domino's direction.

"They ain't my students," he assures, bringing his own cigar up to his mouth to bite one end off and spit it into his now-empty glass, "But yer right, they're a damn step up from Slim and Jeanie. Mister and Miss Middle America, those two. These ones're more likely t'knife ya than bake a pie. Real hellions."

There's a metallic sound as he lifts the lighter to the end of his cigar, puffing out a cloud of smoke the likes of which this bar hasn't seen since they banned smoking indoors.

"You stickin' around? I mean, in town? Could use a drinkin' buddy. There used t'be a floatin' poker game but that's dried up. Unless I wanna start playing pinochle with Chuck, I'm gonna need some companionship."

Domino has posed:
    The second cigar extended her way has Domino sitting up in her stool and rolling her shoulders back. "So gallant, thanks." Her other hand slips inside her blouse without hesitation. Producing a throwing knife likely from unseen rig bneeath her civvie clothing she gracefully carves off her end and tucks the blacde back away while he nips into his.

    "No, but they are your charges in the sense you watch over them but by the looks it no one has watched over them for most of their lives? Where'd you pick them up, the streets?" She crackes her neck with a quick tip of her head from one shoulder to another before upnodding towards the ligther.

    Waiting for him to hold the flame just so, a hand lifts so fingers can pinch the cigar and hold it still over the flame. Sucking in through the rolled smoke, she watches the end ember and crawl upwards towards. SHe pulls the cigar away and tilts her head up and away, blowing her own cloud of smoke upwards into the mixture already slithering in the air.

    "I do not know yet. I had considered it. I have a job, maybe two lined up so I won't be going anywhere right away." Another puff and she sets the cigar betwen her fingers as her elbow rests on the bar. She reaches across her body to pick up her new bourbon and drinks from it. She angles in her stool as she eyes him. "Are you that hard up for companionship, Logan? Touched. Really I am." She teases and gives him a wink o fher patched eye. "I could drink with you now, see how it goes, let you know if I want to do it again."

Wolverine has posed:
"Let me put on my best drinkin' face then," Logan says with a smirk, squaring his shoulders and turning to face the bartender.

"Deke," he points a finger at the top shelf of bottles behind the bar, "Why don't you pour out a little of the good stuff for my friend an' I, here. Put it on my tab."

The bartender gives Logan a wary look, but doesn't seem up to arguing over the state of the Canuck's tab. A moment later, Logan has reached into his jacket to produce two crisp twenties to slide over the bar as a tip. Satisfied, Deke climbs on a little footstool and fetches down a pricey looking bottle from the top shelf before he starts to pour a glass for each of them.

Logan turns back to her with an expectant look, bottom lip and chin thrust out and bushy eyebrows raised.

"As for the kids? I don't know. They come in from all over. Some're ... I know some've their stories. Others don't like to talk about it, or just ain't got 'round to hearin' about it. They're good kids, though. They're their 'cus they want t'be better'n what these pricks in their pulpits are telling them they can be. Or this Trask son of a bitch trying to solve anything with walking, talking death camps."

He takes a sip of his drink once it's poured, glowering at some spot on the wall.

"Asshole."

Domino has posed:
    "Better dust it off, likely hasn't seen the light of day for a decade and a half," Neena offers helpfully. Puff. The smoke filters up out of her nose and lips as she watches the exchange with every growing interest. "Damn, Logan. Warn a girl when she's on a date," she says as pearly whites show and her lips draw into a rather wide grin. "Big spender," she says and tasting the cigar she traces her tongue over her teeth as she waits for the drinks to be poured.

    "Fine," she begins at that expectant look, drawing on the cagar so she can blow a ring at him. "I will drink with you," she leans forward and sashays her head a bit with her words. "Wear a woman down." That last is muttered but with endearment in her tone.

    She listens to him talk about the kids without a word but turns her head to puff on the cigar and then lower it to her old drink and ash it.

    "All of them have stories, none of them good. Just lots of bad and traumatic in varying degrees. No one wants us, Logan. We scare them so what do people do with things they are scared of?" She points at him when he mentions Trask. There is a stillness about her - deady intent maybe.

    "That is one name for him. I hear if we learn his true name we can end him." It's a joke really but one that has her reaching for the 'good stuff' he had poured for them and lifts her glass. "To standing for something that includes the different and new," she waits to touch her own to his before taking a sip.

Wolverine has posed:
"Yeah," Logan says throatily, lifting his own glass and clinking it noisily against Domino's, "Or to just guttin' any sumbitch who decides his right t'stop bein' such a cowardly asshole ought to stretch further'n our right to live."

He takes a deep drag on the cigar, tendrils of white-grey smoke curling from his mouth and his nostrils to fill the air. Over in the corner, one of the group gathered there opens his mouth to speak but the bartender gives him a quick and pointed 'don't be an idiot' stare and nothing comes of it.

"Date, huh?" Logan asks, taking a sip of the good stuff and letting his glass thunk back down on the counter, "Not much a' the datin' kind. More the wake up in the mornin' tryin' t'remember a name kind."

There's a long, slow pause from him as he brings the cigar up to his lips. The cherry-red embers at the end flaring momentarily as he draws in the smoke.

"But reckon I'd date you, an' prob'ly wake up naked in a garbage scow on the Hudson."

Domino has posed:
    "I like your colorful way of speaking. Always endearing and to the point. I can drink to that," Neena confirms, wetting her lips after the drink. She seems to be assessing just how 'good' it is but has yet to complain. Her cigar lays untouched for the moment right between her fingers as it lazily emits smoke.

    A shrug with a smirk is offered up at his mention of a date. "That is half the fun. Learning the name after a good romp, better yet waking up to find them gone." They likely share a great many proclivities that others might consider a loose life. Domino just lives in the moment and at this moment she is greatly amused by Logan's next answer. A bark of a laugh and she downs the rest of the good stuff in one go. A long drag off the cigar results in a long thick lazy curl of smoke over her face as she gives him an affirming side nod of her head.

    "Also the fun part of the dance." She clicks her tongue to the roof of her mouth, ashes the cigar into the old glass and adds, "Something you should not being so dainty on your feet. Ballet and all" Another light tease. "Fact though, you would wake up there but would enjoy the process of getting there." She chuckles and pushes her tumblers away, now drinkless. "If this is a date, buy me another drink and we can discuss other options of the evening. Unless you have to be back to take care of the welps."

Wolverine has posed:
"The Welps," Logan begins, pausing to lift his own drink and polish off the remnants, "have me around, so you know they can take care a' themselves."

The Canuck then turns pointedly to the barman, folding a couple more bills out on the bar. There's no mistaking that his employer is a rich man, but given the way Logan lives he doesn't seem like the sort who would be flush with cash. Then again, when you've lived as long as he has you learn the joys of compound interest.

"Leave the bottle, Deke," Logan tells the bartender as the man pours them two new glasses and then, warily, deposits the bottle on the counter between them and departs.

"So," another sentence begun only to be interrupted by one of his vices, Logan takes a long and hearty draw on his cigar, "Options."

Domino has posed:
    "It also supposes they might need a more nuturing hand at times," she huffs out, a dry laugh escaping her. Domino lets her gaze slide around the bar, assessing location, entrances, exits, cover and much more including and not limited patrons while Logan purchases more to drink.

    Her head finally turns back to her companion, eyes settling on the glasses being filled and then slowy range up to her 'date'. "Ahh so we have uppted the ante," she blows smoke from the corner of her mouth. "I always like when you really give the game a go, Logan." She leans into the bar and closer to him, her knuckles lifting to brush against his jaw once more and thumb coming to rest at his chin and remain there if he doesn't shake her off.

    "Options. The Hudson or some other river?" Grin. Its white and toothy as she jests at him. "More like where do you want to finish that bottle. Doesn't have to be here." She drags her nail very slowly and pointedly against the stubble on his chin before withdrawing her hand. Leaning back she drags on her own cigar and sighs. "Life is full of options, Logan. Depends on what you are wanting in the moment."

    Glass once more raised she tips it back to drink deeply of, downing a good portion like a pro mercenary would.

Wolverine has posed:
"That's what the teachers're for," says Logan of nurturing hands, "I just give 'em the rough an' tumble an' get 'em thinkin' about how they prob'ly could stab a sumbitch if they had to."

The Wolverine barks out a laugh at the mention of rivers, speaking half into his own glass as he brings the good stuff to his lips and takes a sip that's more of a gulp. He never could get portions and pacing right. He tilts his head back slightly at the hand on his face, letting Domino cradle his chin in her hand.

"Well," he says slowly, taking one last drag from his cigar before stamping it out on the edge of the bar much to Deke's ignored consternation, "If you want, we could go lookin' for trouble. Couple of ol' pros, I'm sure we'd find it. I'd say go lookin' for another bar, but with gentrification this is 'bout the most dive we're gonna get. Or ... "

He trails off, lifting his drink to finish the rest of it in one burning gulp.

"I've got a place across town."

Domino has posed:
    "I do not remember my teachers being nuturing at all," she points out. Neena drags on the cigar, the light at the end flaring as the two of them share in polluting the air just a little bit more. She exhales in a steady stream upwards though his humor and reception of her words favor him with a bright smile from her.

    Neena is far more measured, wetting the end of her cigar with her tongue and lips when he stamps his out. No rush here her body seems to say as she continues to lean into that bar, scuffed by age and use. Probably not seen a good clean in a decade. "Bars are a dime a dozen and knowing you, you'd lose another bet if we found one." Poor Deke.

    rEyes follow that descent of an empty glass as her's still remains along with that smoking cigar. "Are those my options?" She slides slowly from her stool and right up beside him, her head tilting as she leans in closer and pulls on the cigar with a turn of her head. Her lungs hold the smoke as it curls lazily out of her lips. As the smoke rises Domino keeps her silence before she exhales the rest of the smoke and leans in near his ear. She smells nice unlike the rest of the bar and the smooth flesh of her pale cheek catches against his stubble as she whispers to him.

    Slowly pulling back she downs her drink, sets the glass aside and then waves to Deke, giving him an upnod before she turns and starts for the door, the remnants of her cigar still held.

Wolverine has posed:
Logan's eyebrows raise at the whisper in his ear, and the message is received loud and clear. He swings his legs away from the bar, landing on them with incredible steadiness for someone who has been sitting at a bar drinking most of the evening.

He doesn't pull the sort of low-rent, empty machismo moves that someone else in his position might pull. No arm around her waist, no knowing grin at the bar around him. He just slaps another twenty on the counter, gives Deke a faint nod, jams his hands into the pockets of his jacket and starts walking alongside Domino towards the door.

A moment later the little bell jingles as the door closes behind them, Deke looking up from his collection of banknotes and shaking his head. He mutters to himself.

"Every damn week."