9093/Bad Memories

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Bad Memories
Date of Scene: 06 September 2019
Location: Josie's Bar, Clinton
Synopsis: Peter and Carol basically re-enact the song 'Piano Man' by Billy Joel.
Cast of Characters: Captain Marvel (Danvers), Spider-Man

Captain Marvel (Danvers) has posed:
They haunt her.

Every night is bad. Some nights she manages to get a few hours of sleep in, others she lies there in a cold sweat - and on nights like this one? The real bad nights? On those nights, she doesn't even try to sleep. She just goes out. She flies. She looks for trouble. Any little thing to take her mind off the memories of being tortured and brutalized. All of it through a singularly unfeeling filter. As though she were watching it on television and not remembering her own life. Tonight, it had been the Channel 4 news chopper flying just a little too low. The noise had rushed in through her window and suddenly all she could think of was a brutal medevac a lifetime ago.

She needed a drink.

She didn't want one. She sure as shit knew she shouldn't have one. She'd come a long way, with nary a relapse to be seen. But there was nothing wrong with just going to a bar, she had told herself. Nothing wrong with just being around it. That'd be enough. She loved to lie to herself.

So, there she sits at the bar, the crowd thin even for Josie's, and stares up at the television playing a recording of a Red Sox game from who-knows-when. She watches it without really seeing it, her fist bunched up beneath her chin.

Spider-Man has posed:
Nobody would ever expect for Spider-Man, probably the most upbeat Super Hero that's every donned a set of tights, to be coming apart at the seams. It's always them, though, isn't it? The ones who go out of their way to make people laugh even when they themselves are feeling their lowest, those are the ones everyone should watch out for.

Peter is coming apart at the seams.

It's too much, laying there in his bed, a sleeping Kitty beside him, and there he is unable to sleep. So he does what he always does... he goes to fight crime. It's easier when he's focused on something, the quips come easily, and usually he feels better afterwards.

Tonight he doesn't. Tonight he feels the churring in his gut even once he's busted up a few muggers and a driveby shooting in Queens. Without the heart for it, he does the only other thing he can think of to make his mind shut up... go have a drink.

After changing into civies, he pushes into the bar with the spider-suit in a backpack like he's just coming back from the gym or something. Slight curls slicked back as he makes his way towards the bar, unknowingly taking the stool not two down from Carol, "Hey, man, can I get a double of Jameson down here? Neat?"

Captain Marvel (Danvers) has posed:
The vaguely familiar voice prompts Carol to turn her head slightly, palm flattening against the side of her face as she props herself up to look at the new arrival. Her eyes linger on him for a minute in thought. She's good with details - that's all part of being a combat pilot - but she's had precious little to do with the newest Avenger. That was Tony's bailiwick as one of those, you know, people people. But she tries.

"Hey," she says slowly, eyes drifting from him to the glass being poured behind the bar and then snapping back like a rubber band, "You're ... Peter, right?"

Spider-Man has posed:
After placing his order, Peter's elbows rest upon the bartop with his face buried into it. The fingers comb back into his brown curls, but his thumbs press into his eyes massaging the bridge of his nose like someone who has a headache or is trying to make a thought go away. He'd not really glanced up, but he's got Spider-senses to alert him if things go pear shaped, so he's started taking it the whole 'situational awareness' thing for granted.

Enough time being unsurprised by anything and you too will stop worrying about what's going on around you.

It does have the unfortunate side effect of making him kind of dull in a social setting though. It isn't until someone calls over towards him that he glances up and to the side at the source. After blinking a few times, "Hey.. yeah.." Eyes squinting, then opening wider, "Whoa, hold on.. you're.. nah.. wow. Hey." Blinking. "You hang out here?" Glancing around at Josie's. Not exactly where he'd expect to find Captain 'Freakin' Marvel.

Captain Marvel (Danvers) has posed:
"No - " Carol begins, before wincing to herself, "Yes. I guess. Keep it under your non-existent hat, huh?"

It was easier to come to terms with her drinking when she was Warbird. Or Ms. Marvel. Even Binary. Those names didn't have a legacy hanging on them. Now, she sees his face at the bottom of every glass and wonders just what he'd think if he knew his namesake - the woman who took up his legacy when he could bear it no longer - kept coming back to the sauce.

But she hasn't had a drink yet. Even as she watches the amber liquid fill the glass she keeps her mouth shut, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and then pointedly turning her eyes away to Peter. A distraction. Conversation. She can do that. Who said she couldn't?

"I'm Carol, by the way," she holds out a hand to him, "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I mean ... outside of 'work'."

Spider-Man has posed:
Pete watches her a moment longer, chuckling at her little joke, but he's not really in the conversation game tonight. If he's being absolutely truthful, he's in the drinking to forget business, so when she goes back to watching the booze be poured, he goes back to rubbing at his eyes. Content, at least, that someone else seems to be playing the hand they were dealt.

Safety in numbers or something like that?

Definitely acceptance.

She clearly doesn't want anyone to know she was here so she definitely wont tell anyone she saw him here. It's an unfair line, but he has no problem letting the thought keep him from getting anxious. The sound of his drink beings et down on the bar infront of him and then her introduction draw him up from his own thoughts, glancing sideways first with a friendly, if distant, smile. "Peter, but you now that."

He leans over towards her to offer his hand, then decides just to scoot to the stool next to her because why not. Maybe talking will make him feel better. "So, Carol." Sipping his drink with a hiss around his teeth, "Come here often?"

Captain Marvel (Danvers) has posed:
"More often than you, I'll bet," Carol says, a wry little smile on her face as he moves to sit down in the stool next to her. Once again her eyes flick to the drink in his hand, watching him intently as he drinks it. It has all the seeming of someone trying desperately to puzzle out his every move, but the reality is far grimmer. She just wants a drink.

"You don't exactly look like the 'drown my sorrows' type," she tells him, raising an eyebrow at him, "But then, we barely know each other. You were surprised to see me here and, if you know me better, I really don't think it'd be that much of a shocker."

Nevertheless, she pressed on. The more she talks, the less she thinks about buying a drink: "So, what are we forgetting?"

Spider-Man has posed:
"Maybe." Peter hunches a little, shoulders drooping, and his hands wrap around the glass on the bar infront of him. It turns between drinks, moved along by the motion of his fingers slipping forward and back on either side to get the revolution along the wood grain, "I don't drink much." He admits, though she'd already puzzled that out.

His blue eyes cut towards her, glancing her over with a wry grin of his own, "Man, Carol Danvers just chilling out at Josie's." Matter of factly, lifting the glass to suck down some of the fiery liquid with another quiet breath to cool his throat inhaled through puckered lips.

"Huh? Forgetting? Us? Well.. I mean I guess you forgot to get a drink?" Not really following that she's asking what he's drinking to forget. "What's your poison?" Waving the bartender over and motioning to Carol, then at himself. He's also unaware that she's on the wagon.

This is why people should be honest with one another.

And not go to bars when they're trying to stay sober.

The more you know.

Captain Marvel (Danvers) has posed:
Even the offer causes the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. A feeling simultaneously cold and warm racing up and down her spine as he fingernails suddenly dig into the soft palms of her hands. She runs her tongue across her lips, wetting them and opening her mouth to order. But then closes it.

When she finally opens it again, she waves a hand, "Not thirsty."

She reaches down to the stool underneath her, shuffling it sideways with a wooden scrape so she sits a little closer to the Webslinger. Close enough that they are sharing each other's space, her knee pressed against his. She once more rests her head in her palm and looks at him.

"C'mon," Carol chides teasingly, "If you're not gonna share, you can tell me what it's been like at the Mansion. Any fresh gossip?"

Spider-Man has posed:
Peter furrows his brow a little, watching her in the way people watch other people who are acting a little out of sorts. The tongue running across her lips, the fingers digging into her palm, the way she adjusts a little.. those tiny details that people ignore, but Peter sees in hyper realism because everything looks a little slower to his eyes.

"Oh." He murmurs to himself, pinpointing the problem as soon as he really thinks about it.

He's not had much experience with alcoholism, but he's seen a daytime television show or two in his time. So with a little backwards kick of his head, he swallows the rest of his double in a shuddering gulp and pushes the glasses away from him with straightening fingers. After, it takes a moment for him to catch his breath.

Plenty enough time for her to scoot nearer with her knee pressing against his, "No gossip. Just life." Rolling his shoulders backwards a little and tilting his head in an awkward fashion. "At least not about me.. and I don't go to the mansion much. Things always feel a little weird there, like I don't belong or something."

Captain Marvel (Danvers) has posed:
"It always seems that way," Carol says with another half-hearted smile, "So much going on. Everyone with their own plate just piled high with things to do. They told you I go to space a lot? I do that because it's a damn side easier than understanding what's going on in that place. Things are a lot simpler out in space. No egos to bruise. Unless you count Ego, I guess."

For a moment, the woman sits there in silence. She draws her lips in behind her teeth, biting down on them and turning her attention back to the baseball game on the screen. She tries to focus on it. Tries to be interested in that. Leave him to himself and go back to her focused evening of binge not-drinking.

Then she sighs, bumping him pointedly with her knee: "Want to get out of here? I feel like a walk. It's gonna be cold soon, anyway. Gather ye rosebuds and all that."

Spider-Man has posed:
If it's not the Mets playing, Peter is wholly uninterested. Then he's only interested because his uncle was, so he's not interested interested. Sports aren't really his bag. So, for safety sake, he just ignores the television and pays attention to the bar now that his drink is gone. Drumming fingers on the wood there when she goes all quiet.

He'd nodded agreement, but space, like magic, wasn't his bag either. Or sports. Truth was, Peter's bag was pretty full of mundane things! They don't call him the Friendly Universal, Magic, and Sports playing Spider-Man, afterall.

Then she's asking if he wants to go for a walk... and he's got no answer, so he shrugs and scoops up his bag, "Sure, might as well enjoy the last few days before it gets called as hell and I have to wear pants to work." Strap slung over a shoulder, followed by the other, and he's motioning for her to lead the way.

Captain Marvel (Danvers) has posed:

There's a sigh of relief from Carol as she rises from the stool, waving her hand to the bartender and nudging it back into place with her foot. She was in the belly of the beast, and it took Peter offering to buy her a drink to make that clear enough for her to understand.

She falls into step alongside him, upper arm brushing against his shoulder as they make their way to the door. She holds it open for the pair of them, watching him as he passes outside and then turning her head slightly to watch the now abandoned stool by the bar.

There but for the grace of God.

She steps out into the warm evening, the door closing behind her, and nudges him with her elbow: "C'mon, don't look so glum. It's no web-slinging but at least the company's good."