Owner	Pose
Mystique	Lucy's of East Village knows the value of endurance. It's not the best bar in New York City -- not by a long shot. The place would better be described, generously, as a "hole in the wall." And yet, it's outlasted many of the best of the best, simply through consistency and grandfather clauses. It's survived the second World War, the Mad Bomber, the Son of Sam, every single slump of the New York Yankees, and most recently -- the establishment of District X just outside its doorstep. It's practically an institution, as much as an institution can be. Minor updates and renovations to the bar itself has mostly seen the addition of a flat screen TV and a number of light fixtures dotting the wood-paneled walls, effusing the bar with a neon glow of several colors and the steady crickle-crackle of flourescents. But for the most part? It remains the same stone floors, the same selection of drinks, the same surly bartender (for the most part; time makes fools of us all). It endures. Many people have been warier of coming, of late, with its proximity to the so-called 'Mutant Town,' but many of its regulars and less fearful bar hoppers remain undeterred; it has even had its fair share of mutant patrons, from time to time... as well as those who come -specifically- because of how close by Mutant Town is, for all the wrong reasons you can imagine. It's an eclectic foot traffic, that Lucy's gets. But they're used to it. And then... ... And then there's people like the woman who has been casually loitering in the back of the bar today: raven black hair shorn into a punkish undercut, her white tank top and low-riding dark jeans designed to show off the way the majority of her pale skin has been turned into a practical canvas for a myriad of tattoos. Smoky, kohl-lined green eyes are focused on applying chalk to her cue as other patrons talk at the bar. She seems to be paying them no heed... ... but the voices of two in specific crackle in her ear thanks to a bug slipped on one, their idle chatter filling her world even as she calmly maneuvers to start racking her billiard balls. As for the reason she might be spying on anyone here, well... Mystique wouldn't really be living up to her name if she just gave that away, would she?
Tabitha Smith	There was once a time when Tabitha was not the funky plasma kinetic girl that could make fire dance from her fingers and move at her psionic beck and call. There was once a scrawny teenage girl that could only work her powers by condensing them into tangible spheres for throwing. And to make sure she got them where they needed to go. She had to pick up a whole bunch of skills. So while she's not Cyclops with his innate sense of geometry and bank shots. The blonde girl bent over a pool table lining up a shot and about to hustle some rube out of a fifty dollar note and the next pitcher learned something that has uses in multiple ball sports. Spin Physics. Curve balls on a baseball diamond. (Or Dodgeball. The only time she ever felt good playing sports at school when she could bean someone in squishy parts and get away with it. Golf. Bowling where she could probably go pro. She can make a sphere curve in it's trajectory. Even a cue ball around a couple stripes to kiss the eightball into a corner pocket. The blonde, abusing a pair of well ripped and still skintight dark blue Levi's jeans a pair of red motorcycle boots matching a belt, wrist cuffs and a collar that might have once been a dog's, all brass colored spikes and red leather. Her jacket now that the weather is cooling a dark bomber style bolero. BOOM! over an explosion in red text stitched into the back while a cropped yellow tank with the Yamaha logo in faded pink stretches out against her chest and leaves her toned midriff on display. "Look like it's my money and beer boys!" The bug planted making her voice loud and clear even over the music and other noises of the place. "Think of it as a discount for what I bought before we started playing. I'm not making any money on this by nights end!" Tabitha had been there to make a purchase. A few hundred dollars for a small clear bag of purple pills. What they do. Well that'd take some extra probing. At least the men aren't really pissed at being beaten at pool as they laugh and walk off. Though one does leave Tabby with a very hard SLAP on the behind. behind the glasses on her nose, yellow tinted cat eyes, she just rolls her eyes. Her hair in high pigtails, the front left loose and kept from her view by those glasses. Once left alone, the blonde is left to rack up a fresh round on her own. Eventually a waitress will bring that pitcher of beer.
Mystique	The sound of phelonic resin billiard balls click-clacking against each other fills the air as Tabitha's pool partners wander off. At the table opposite her, that raven-haired woman stops her rack-up as she listens in to the blonde's conversation. It's a subtle thing; there's hardly a shift in her expression as she straightens, stretching arms and pool cue leisurely up and over her head. But that doesn't mean she doesn't pay attention. To Tabitha, and that exchange -- to the goods she's been left with in the wake of the friendly game. Her curiosity piques, as deep, dark red lips quirk in the faint suggestion of a smile. Pool cue resting against the back of her neck, held there by the pressure of her wrists against it, the black-haired woman cocks her hip, striking an effortlessly confident pose as she calls out, "Looks like you've cleaned up pretty nicely." Her voice is a deep, rich thing, like smoke and honey. Black bangs spills over one green eye as her head tilts, sizing up Tabitha with a considerate stare. "... Or maybe you just didn't have a good enough challenge." And here, the stranger offers a challenge of a smile and a lifted, dark brow, pulling that pool cue free of her shoulders with one hand to tap the butt of it lightly against the green stretch of baize of her pool table. "Care for to go a round? I'd love to see how I stack up."
Tabitha Smith	The triangle for racking up a game of eightball pool sits where it should prebreak. Hands delving into pockets as she rounds the table with a casual sway in her hips , bumping against the table every so often it might be easier to grind a hip against it. The compliment by the approaching brunette gets the woman a playful little smirk. "I clean up pretty good in a few ways!" she replies and sends a wink from benind yellow tinted lenses. "I know where to go when I want a real difficult challenge on a table." Even she still can't beat Cyclops. Watching her collect a cue and offer a match. Tabby seems interested in a game. Maybe it's a hustle. "Sure, we can play for beer. The cash is gas money. We can always play for other mon money stakes either. Those guys thankfully don't do that. With girls at least. They'd probably lose on purpose though." she jokes playfully. Once the balls are racked she slips the triangle off and sets it aside. "I'll even let you break honey!" she offers and gets out of the way to sip at her beer. Provided by a redhead waitress in jeans and a Lucy's of East Village uniform tee tighter than anything either the blonde and brunette wore. Which earned a tip even if Tabby didn't pay for the drinks. An extra glass by the pitcher for Raven. Or whatever name she may give the bombshell
Mystique	The butt of her cue tapping against the ground, the tattoo-decorated woman leans her weight into, chin settling against the tip as she watches Tabitha with faint amusement. Tabitha offers up a wink. And her new friend blows her a kiss in return. "Oh, that's a shame," she remarks, as Tabitha says she knows where to find a real challenge. "Part of the fun of a good competition is discovering all new kinds of challenges to beat." Tabitha racks the balls, accepting the brunette stranger's challenge. The black-haired woman cants her hair to the right, considering Tabitha's proposal. "Mm. First round's on the loser," she decides, easily. The right corner of her dark lips quirks up. "And if you -really- impress me, maybe we can talk about those other stakes a bit, too." She lets those words linger like a little promise before she eases her backside against the edge of the pool table. ''I'll even let you break honey!'' Tabitha offers, and the woman draws that pool cue up until she's positioning it behind her back, cue tip nudging next to that polished white cue ball. "How generous of you," she offers in a practical purr to the blonde. She lines up her shot, those sharp green eyes focused on the rack of billiard balls. "Corner pocket, 12 ball." She glances back, raven hair spilling over one pale shoulder as she offers Tabitha a smile. "It's Misty, by the way." CRACK Balls rebound off each other, the sly angle of that shot sending them all ricocheting off bumpers; the 2 ball knocks into the 12, sending it rolling... right towards that corner pocket. "Do you and your little friends back there come here often? I'd think I'd recognize someone like you... or at least remember your name." 'Misty' knows exactly why Tabitha is. But there's no harm in playing a part, right? She ignores the voices reverberating in her ear, for now, in favor of focusing all that charming attention on the blonde mutant before her. After all... something interesting just fell into her lap. And Mystique has never believed in leaving a single opportunity unseized.
Tabitha Smith	There's an extra bounce of her eyebrows and her own kiss blown to catch the one sent her way. "Oh it's more I know where the ultimate challenge is for running a pool table. We're talking little kid fighting a heavyweight champ type challenge there." she states and crooks her own cue in her elbow and shoulder to mimic some shadow boxing, getting some bouncing of her jacket and it's contents. "This is all just working up to be second place. No shame knowing when your outclassed." she admits. The brunette's got game. And Tabby doesn't seem at all worried about the idea of buying beer. She even gets ahead of it and purs a glass for 'Misty'. "Misty? I Like it. Roll in easy at night, fade away once there's morning light! I'm Tabitha." usually she says no one calls her that but they actually do more than Boom-Boom and she is in secret identity mode. Likely Misty knows full well who this blonde is while Tabby watches the woman work the table. Mostly watching the woman, but she does pay some attention to each shot. "I've been here a couple times. Those guys tend towards one of the more male centric bars. Though that place is a little too clean and obvs I don't have as much of an entertaining view." she points out.