Gotham Bars are the Craziest Bars

July 07, 2015:

M and Dick meet at a bar. Someone gets hurt.

Gotham Bar

A ratty bar in Gotham

Characters

NPCs: Some homophobic dweeb. Mills.

Mentions:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

It's a bar in the East End. It looks, and smells, exactly what you'd expect. Dirty, run down, dingy, filled with two types of men. There are the ones with no hope, the common Gothamite that can't afford to go anywhere better. They can't even afford to come here but getting drunk is their own relief from life in Gotham. Then there are the ones with criminal ties but who are low on the ladder. They're not much better off than the others but at least they aren't them and knowing that makes them feel just a little better.

Tonight, there's a third type of man. A stranger to the crowd. Though he's dressed similarly, he holds himself differently. Confidently. He might just be getting a drink, he might be looking for trouble. It's probably both.

"What are you saying, then?" Dick Grayson asks his partner, fellow Detective Mills from the GCPD. "I'm saying I'm going home," responds Mills with a shrug. "Alright," the younger policeman says. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Grayson remains at the bar with a beer he hasn't really touched, mentally going through what he's got to do this evening. It'll be a short nap for starters, that much is sure. He lets out a heavy sigh; it's been a long day already.

Midnighter watches the man leave then looks over to Grayson. Taking his drink, he gets up and goes over to claim the now empty seat. "No need to sigh. I'll be happy to keep you company tonight now that he's abandoned you. I'd offer to buy you a beer but…" He nods to the still full one. "Something stronger instead?"

"Hmm?" Dick says as he looks over toward the man who walks up to the bar. He shakes his head, politely, "No, I mean. This beer is fine. I'm actually just going to have one before I gotta get out of here. Thanks though." He adds, quickly, "I appreciate it. What's your name?" He reaches his hand over to shake.

"Call me M." he says, clasping the hand with an appreciative smile as he checks Dick out. "And what should I call you? Besides handsome?" Since he's making no effort to keep his voice down, just about every eye is on the two of them and few of the gazes are friendly.

"Dick Grayson," he responds with a chuckle and goes slightly red. "I appreciate the compliment, M." The officer can feel the eyes upon him, but after years and years of acting he's flawless in not letting it appear to bother him. "Never been to this place. Seems popular."

Midnighter's smile grows a bit at the blush and that there's no actual refusal. He lightly runs his thumb over Dick's hand before releasing it. "Never been here either." he agrees and looks around, the smile growing even more as he meets lots of eyes. The smart ones immediately drop theirs. "Pleasure to meet you, Dick. So what do you do?"

Dick removes his hand and grabs his beer, taking a slight sip. "Police work. Yourself?" he asks. For him it's been a long road to this point. He wasn't even sure he'd go to college, and then probably shouldn't have in the end. His general degree could probably have been bypassed by work experience as a uniformed cop. Of course, there's no better work experience than that he's had since he was a teenager.

"Gotham PD?" Mid asks, his look becoming more appraising for reasons other than Dick's appearance. "You could say I'm in data recovery. I'm good at retrieving information, even if it's protected. I've been known to work for the government in finding things they've wanted to know."

Dick nods, "That's the one. Pretty new to the beat, but it's going alright." He lies. It's going terrible. This case he's working on gets worse all the time. "Data recovery? Like, you work with technology or something?"

"I definitely work with technology." Mid agrees with a broad smile. "Very cutting edge. But I get the feeling it's not so 'alright', despite what you said. You were sitting here sighing. That's not alright. So what's the problem?"

"Just a long day, man. That's the part that you never really realize when you sign up for the job. There's a lot of waiting around and a lot of doors in your face. That sort of thing," Dick responds.

"I hear you." Mid puts a hand on Dick's shoulder and says "Why don't you come back to my place and I'll show you my appreciation for the police force. I give an awesome massage, I'm told." This must be too much for some of the bar patrons since a few steps up behind Dick and Mid. "Why don't you get out of here now, faggo…" He never gets to finish what he was going to say as the hand on Dick's shoulder flashes out to grab the man behind the neck and brings his head down toward the bar between them. Hard. Twice. Before falling to the ground once Mid lets go. "Who's next?" he says to the man's friends.

"Whoa! Whoa Whoa Whoa!!!" exclaims Dick as he holds his hands up and tries to put himself between Midnighter and the others. "Everyone relax." He looks over his shoulder and down at the man who is down upon the ground, hoping he didn't crack his skull upon the floor.

Midnighter just stays on his chair, his smile never fading. "I"m very relaxed. Aren't you relaxed?" he asks the two men who are staring down at their unconscious friend. "You should probably take him back to your table before you all end up relaxing with him." Dismissing them, he looks back to Dick. "So, my place? We can pick up a pizza on the way."

Dick's hands are still up in the air before he can't help but chuckle at how quickly this guy goes from crazed violent head smasher to swaggering conquistador. "Look, M. I appreciate the interest, but I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I think my girlfriend would probably get jealous." Does he have a girlfriend? No. Is he above lying about it? No. Does he want to tell the guy he's just not into dudes? Well, that'd be rude.

Even to a guy who just smashed someone's head into the bar.

"And by girlfriend, I'm guessing you don't mean the guy who left you here all alone?" Mid asks, shaking his head. "Shame. But if you're straight enough to pass up a perfectly good naked massage, there's not much I can do to change your mind." Standing, he pulls a thick wad of bills out of his pocket and peels off a couple fives to toss onto the bar. "Nice to meet you, Dick Grayson. Next time I get a parking ticket, I'll look you up."

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