Hogmanay Night 1.2

January 12, 2018:

After the Krampus attack, the group returns to the Myrkr, tension and drinks arise!

Myrkr - New York

Varying in RP.

Characters

NPCs: Jotunn Goons

Mentions: Siege

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

yn knows better than to allow herself to be grasped by those golden gauntlets, the former Valkyrie jerking her head back with the defensive raise of her blade. Poor J'onn, it's… well, it's for his own good. If he's in her barrier then he can't get involved in something that's between the two Asgardian women, at least,"No goddess of mine." she sneers,"And no conquest for you! My word was given to help prevent the Svartfalfar's invasion of Midgard, but I'll be no party to an attempt to conquer this Realm."

Hands, off, the Martian. Apparently. At least from the way the Valkyrie's squaring herself, she might not exactly be a fan of modern humanity but she's definitely drawing a line, and is smart enough to know that whatever the 'witch' is conjuring up doesn't bode well for her. At least it lures her out of her spot next to the barrier J'onn's wrapped in with a sudden explosion of movement, to try and disrupt Amora's concentration with a more immediate threat.

Syn knows better than to allow herself to be grasped by those golden gauntlets, the former Valkyrie jerking her head back with the defensive raise of her blade. Poor J'onn, it's… well, it's for his own good. If he's in her barrier then he can't get involved in something that's between the two Asgardian women, at least,"No goddess of mine." she sneers,"And no conquest for you! My word was given to help prevent the Svartfalfar's invasion of Midgard, but I'll be no party to an attempt to conquer this Realm."

Hands, off, the Martian. Apparently. At least from the way the Valkyrie's squaring herself, she might not exactly be a fan of modern humanity but she's definitely drawing a line, and is smart enough to know that whatever the 'witch' is conjuring up doesn't bode well for her. At least it lures her out of her spot next to the barrier J'onn's wrapped in with a sudden explosion of movement, to try and disrupt Amora's concentration with a more immediate threat.

Amora's smile seems birthed of decay, the swamp-green hue of lips curling in a cheshire manner while emerald eyes lined in a shadow of kohl *spark*, the splits of fabric pushed around thighs in a breeze all of her own "calling', feet bare, only clad in wraps of gauzy green and leather-lined straps to the exposed span of legs, toes pointed but hovering over the floor littered in splits, splinters, and shards of 'glitter' in broken glass.

"You heard me wrong, I do not need Your Belief, /Valkyrie/." A pause and when Syn moves from what J'onn had made and She Protected the laughter of bait is evident in Enchantress' eyes. She got what she wanted, the embodied challenge before her of kith, even of *not* Kin!

"Oh You get me wrong there as well, but come…" An extension of that split palm, fingers splayed and the golden claw-tipped rings unfurling, tipped in crimson, a droplet falls to the tattered lacquer of floor…

The doors are left abandoned below now, the 'Goons' of Jotun moving for the staircases or looking upward, even as one polishes a glass, no longer a balding barkeep, two fingers (instead of a fist) drying a glass in his spectating.Now this is Home to them! Bets are being laid in low grunts, forgetting the door is not locked, even Matti's door he departed behind is stepped away from, a table overturned to be spun as in the blur their own bartering begins!

"Do you /care for the Green Man, Valkyrior?!" A cut of eyes between and Enchantress laughs. "And yet you try to judge *Me!* but know your own place too!" The approach of brutal alacrity by Syn has Amora's curled fingers lifting and tearing boards of the 'Wooden' floor into something of a cage in attempts to catch Syn in her warrior's approach, or at least /fell/ the woman a bit to regain even her own distance.

Ground Floor: Flickering club lights rebound off falling shards and shrapnel, war looks like a storm within these walls, one thwt *Glitters* -

- But not all that glitters, is Gold.
A bender. New Years and single? What else is a man to do when hes trying to take some time out of fighting rage-aholic psycho mongers with the Universe's most powerful weaponry at their disposal. This is not the first bar of the night. This is… Hal lost count.
A hand lifts up and he slaps the back of the seat in front of him, "Cabbie, guy, name i forgot. Stop here."

"This is just a parking lot?"
"Or is it." Hal taunts.
"I don't have a location lis… oh, there it is."
"Yeah, see. I said that the first time I came through here with that YoutuBe hoola girl, Bambi."
"Ohh yes, I seen her videos. She is very bouncy and flexible."
"Yeah she is bro. Okay, I'll call you if I need another ride. Keep the change."
"There is no change, you still owe me 32 cents."
"Youre kidding me right? Come on Bob, if thats your real name. 32 cents and youre going to bust my balls? I'm Hal Jordan damnit, fine whatever, here take a five. Just know next time you get a way smaller tip. Like,… "
"You sir, are drunk and if you think this is a big tip youre probably not smart to drink more."
"Hal Jordan not smart? Those are words never spoken before… " Bullshit. Hal knows it too even in the ineberiated state he is in. He knows this parking lot. It's where he met Amora the Enchantress, not that she went by that last time. He just knows that night turned in to a bust because he lost his date to three Jersey Guys who danced like Kid and Play. Straightening up his white collar under that heavy parka he steps in to the snowy parking lot, this place sounds loud from outside. Bustling with noises! At least the plows are keeping up on New Years. "Wheres Barry when I need him… he would spot me a hundy. Easy… maybe I'll call Clark… " Phone up, wavering in his face. Ring? Not tonight. It's at his apartment which may or may not be dumb but some nights a man has to be a man without hearing constant chimes of responsibility plus hes learned to 'bring it' to him if he really needs to. What a sad sad day for Hal Jordan, 2018 soon and hes out bar hopping alone, no Barry, no Ollie, not even a Roy Harper. Is thatkid even old enough to drink yet?
A tap on the top of the cab and it pulls away leaving him to venture in to the 'Club'.

The screech of wood must be awful, as suddenly a cage is thrown up around Syn. The two Asgardians, and a Martian caught in an invisible protective barrier somewhere mostly on the mezzanine… sort of partially on the steps. Up the wood snaps, and out Syn's sword goes to slash her way through it,"This isn't his fight." she spits in the direction of Amora,"And doesn't change your words! Do you deny, now, that you yourself said you were on a path of Conquest? Death summoned the son of Hel, and death he brings, just like you. Agents, not witnesses. Neither of you here to reap those to fight for Ragnarok… just to destroy! So what is your purpose, Enchantress? Speak the truth of your intent!"

J'onn, surrounded by a mystical barrier, can only watch for the moment as the two Agardians decide to settle their differences in the way of the Norse of Old. Currently, J'onn is content with not pressing the boundaries of their 'discussion' as he is beginning to understand the culture a little bit with each interaction…. if only he could speak the language.

Following along only partially with the dispute between the two women, assuming that the confrontation is continuing in earnest, J'onn finally asks "The tenuous truce you both have seems as if it is still needed until the Krampus is sent back to wherever it is that he calls home, correct?" Based on what he has seen so far, they could be much more aggressive if they truly wanted it, "Perhaps given the rituals of the evening, we can decide the victor of this contest by copious amounts of mead?"

Obviously J'onn is missing some portion of the conversation at Syn's comments about conquest, but he's not quite ready to jump into that debate just yet. Still, he holds his tongue for the time being, waiting to see what Amora's response would be to Syn's demands of purpose and truth.

Hal sees the falling 'Glitter', the strobing lights reflective off of it from the DJ booth.

Blink one, occupied.
Blink two. Empty.

Reality can start to shine through as moments can become "sobering", especially when he finds his attire instead of coated in 'Bambi Glitter' is layered in glass shards and splinters of polished wood flooring.

The massive backs of the GoonJotun were for the first few seconds, his way, but when he enters, there is a peer back of sub-arctic huen gaze, back to the wager and fight, then… Back to Hal.

Well….shit… Eve a Jotun has that 'look' as brows rise and another is pressed into side with fist and a grunted gesture redirects not *One*, but *Two* of them Hal's way.

Perhaps he blinks? From massive to just Goon-sized immense, grunts come forth. "Sorre', we clo—"

"The Brusi is not My burden to bear, the chylde of Hel is but another… /bump/, in my path!"

"… and we both now how to end *that*… Perhaps!" A curl of fist and that cage seeks to draw clawed spires inward upon Syn as if seeking to clutch her as well!

But they ends are cleaved and shower more affront below where the two Jotun face Hal's staggering form.

"The Svartalfar is my goal, Do you know… Male/kitthh/~" The name once more spoken between teeth, as if hissed.

The question is cut off as the weapon wielded by Syn skims close, a braid severed in proximity, the end floating towards the floor as Amora's figure pivots, like a dance that almost places her back closer towards J'onn, but in her float the figure of Hal is spotted and everything inanimate in its fall **CEASES!*.

"I seek to conquer, conquest, and claim what is rightfully mine, Valkyrior," A pause even in motions as the braid slowly begins to unravel, severed ends of perfectly 'cut' ties unmatched to the rest of that flaxen mane.

"You do as well, Tic??" A final barb but one that has her stoic mien setting purpose, as not even a hand is lifted J'onn's way but his words were used in this and acknowledged.

"FINIR!" The call from Amora to the Jotun stops their approach towards Hal… somewhat.
Hal stares at the quasi-reality of bar to bar brawl? Otherworldly creatures and bouncers but not and then people coming at him, it's not intentional that he pops in to an old world 30 style boxer stance but he does. Dukes up. "Bring it! Wait, seriously, wait wait."
A hand opens fingers out wide, no way is he ready for what he is seeing. A shake of his head, this place just like last time is like dropping acid.

"Okay now I am ready. What the fuck is happening here and somebody please speak English. Also, buddy, its New Years, if you close you're all criminals who need to get the hell out of the grand ole YOu ESS of A and back to whatever commie country it is you swam here from." Hiccup.

"Seriously, you guys are not closed are you? I could really use another drink." Sway. Sway. No he doesn't recognize a soul in here yet. They have to move closer.

It's the movement, mostly, of the Jotun, that catches Syn's eye. Wait. She knows that Midgardian. And that leaves her with a choice that really isn't one. Specifically she casts a glance at J'onn,«Your Lantern.» is what she has to offer by thought, perhaps more sharply than she intended as she leaps forward, catching aught more than the braid.

"Midgard isn't yours." it's not Syn's either, but, well, yes, apparently that's a line that perhaps surprises her as much as anyone to utter. It takes a moment to straighten up some,"Midgard belongs to it's people. What has happened in the last millenia I know not, but this place isn't yours, Baulufotr. And I will not be a party to your conquest." just in case that was in question. She's keeping her attention on Amora, figuring that J'onn and Hal at least can probably handle the Jotun.

J'onn also picks up on the familiar mental presence, and lets out a long drawn out sigh. His eyes shift to the Jotun, that Amora appears to hold for the time being, that move towards Hal. At the mental communication from Syn, J'onn responds «Yes. Let me free, and I will take care of him… He appears, somewhat inebriated.»

Again the battle, physical and philosophical, continues to rage, "I agree that there does not need to be a conquering of Midgard…" J'onn adds his two cents as he waits for the barrier to drop, "…but I will help you both find your ways back to Asgard as I have said before."

Turning his attention back to his fellow League Member, J'onn speaks up loudly enough for Hal to hear, "Hello, Mr. Jordan." the Martian calls out to him, seeming to be stuck in place near the two fighting women, "You've stumbled on a slight altercation between two Asgardians. I believe it is in our best interests to bring the physical conflict to conclusion as quickly as possible if you wish another drink."

Amora heard J'onn, the Martian at her back-left quarter, her front towards Syn, the affront of assault, one she will not de-plume from despite the variables.

Then add Hal, a Midgardian she had met months ago here, when it was not… Openly Myrkr…

The Jotun as Goons in ripped 'Monkey Suits' pause on Amora's call. But the cracking of knuckles is audible, they are ready to 'dispose' of another based on 'necessity'.

"Foolish /gleðja/. You misread my words!" Midgard is the least of my concern. I asked you to side with myself and the Bersekir against the Svart-alfr! Midgard is another sought to raze to end-all. My conquer is not of this realm, but of my own…" A loft of chin as the rest remains unsaid and Mattias' door is watched in a flicker of gaze that is more guarded in regards to J'onn… Syn…

Brows take a fokkin' hike!

Is this /Human/ a 'familiar' to them??

Syn's ministrations and heavy blows shatter the grip of curled floorboards outward, but her other hand rises to scatter them in an ethereal arch around her form as feet touch to ground, toes splaying over splintered Earth beneath.

"You speak warrior. Read between the lines. We are on the same side…" Amora's path is serpentine towards Syn, even as she seeks blows, arms extending to reveal unarmed hands. "Finir…" A whisper of the latter… "For now." But that does not leven the palpable aura in the air around them all.

"As J'onn says… and the other celebrator of the Hogmanay… Drink?"
It's a matter of thought for Syn, to drop the barrier and let the Martian loose, there's a grunt for Amora,"Words can be slick as a serpent's tongue." the former Valkyrie doesn't back up, but she does watch Amora carefully and hold her ground, still. For her there's a factor to consider… she might not consider Hal a friend, but well, J'onn does.

The motion of putting her sword away is stiff and slow, watching Amora mistrustfully in the process. There's not likely to be any apology for the other womans wounds, any more than her own, she knows they'll both heal eventually,"Your bar stinks of Death." she can't help but mutter dourly at the Enchantress, it bothers her.
"Altercat… cation?" Hal squints, studies the man speaking to him and realizes who he is. Only one guy he knows talks like that, "Holy crapsnacks, that you Jon?" The drunken man whisks by the Jotun who is a human? isnt? He doesn't know. His steps exaggerated with his level of intoxication so to him it feels like hes by Jon's side in a snap, one arm throwing over his shoulders. In reality it took a bit longer to make it there.

"Is this some sort of industrial wrestling match? Asgardians? Like… no, I know what youre saying, like, that one chick, the mouthy broad who tried to… steal that ship? Legz." The z actually does come out in his speech, not an s or multiple s' but an real z. "Legz, tall, blond, angry, gives my alter me trouble."
Its as though hes somewhat oblivious to the insanity, this is magical right? And the man is drunk without his ring 'on' not that it matters at some point.

"Hey, hey, you're my only pal now Jon. Stop talking Russian and just… let me buy you a drink, maybe threee. Just not the weird shit int he horns and barrels… bartender!" He literally swings off of Jon's shoulder with one arm spinning around to yell at Syn and Amora's direction, "BARTENDER! Need two Jacks here, maybe four."
Urp.

Finally released, J'onn makes his way towards Hal, and the Martian will attempt to brush a hand across Amora's shoulder as he goes by. "Thank you for stopping to talk." and he will do the same to Syn as he catches up to Hal. A small smile given in her direction, "and thank you as well. I appreciate you looking to my safety." and there is no doubt that he means it.

"Indeed, Hal, one of your friends, but I doubt your only pal at this point." J'onn replies with a small grin forming, "..and I would be happy to drink with you tonight." He looks between Amora and Syn, "Well, not quite a wrestling match, but something very similar. Physical form of deciding the winner of an argument…" His arm falling across the other man's shoulders, "… as much as I could understand, at least. You missed much of the insults given in a language I am completely unfamiliar with."

There's a pause, eyebrows raised, at Hal's description of Syn, "Legz? Mouthy Broad?" this time, the Martian tries to cover the smile with a cough, "I think we may be talking about the same Asgardian, and a friend I have recently met.." nodding in Amora's direction, leaving her introduction and how she'd like to be perceived by Hal up to her.

"It has to, Tik." Amora states to Syn as around them both those hovering bits of shrapnel fall like raindrops in slicing clatters to the floor past skin and fabric to the similarly fashioned flooring and surroundings now.

"I cannot be bound to one place without sacrifice. Trust me, they already 'stank of death', before hand." A tilt of on blonde crown towards the other, but the facades are the ultimate variables.

Amora's eyes follow J'onn towards Hal, the wavering Midgardian she had met before here, but in other circumstance and a 'Deer' present. Bambino? Something worthy of a Play'Mate.

"Do not worry for your Chosen. He intrigues me…" A pause… "Like his friend the drunk worthy of Halls." Waitaminute? Are they assessing the men like Asgardian women not just about to drag eachother through a river (of) 'Styx?'

The 'balding' tender is given a nod, but with a cusp of palm around lips as if whispered direct…

A nod of the suddenly Very Real Jotun and drinks are laid out according to each.

"We shall drink, this fight can met accord after Hogmanay…." A slow walk down th broken steps… one shattering beneath toes to be -skipped- over in her descent towards the bar. "Maybe some during…"

How many years for Amora to enjoy such a thing?!

"Needless death, Oflati. Without the chance of earning a place in Valhalla." of course that's the thing for Syn. There's a narrowing of her eyes for Amora's words,"He's not my Chosen. He is simply worthy. He is quite capable of protecting himself." there's something of a squint still, an 'I'm watching you' kind of a squint.

It's peace, of a sort at least, never mind the destruction and the blood and the injuries. Syn stops to pick an oversized splinter from herself before she elects to hop over the railing rather than take what's left of the stairs down, landing heavier than usual before she makes her way towards the two men. Possibly for the best she missed Hal's comment, there's enough swagger in that walk already.

"Man, this place is nuts." Hal manages to Jon as their drinks actually manifest and the former pilot is slapping a twenty down, "Check it, that say keep more coming. Hell, start me a tab." A look from Amora to Syn, "The spearmint twins? Jon you find all the best places."

"They were Swedish or something right? I don't speak that not without… no… Rosetta Stone." Jordan feigns a coverup, a terrible one. Squinty look given to Syn in return, the 'I know you' stare and Amora? She's a tad more confusing. Less recognition but some familiarity there. Some but not much as they had one encounter end it ended up with him being magically 86'd.

J'onn either lets pass or simply doesn't catch the comments on what a Chosen means between Amora and Syn. As things slowly start to look normal in the 'club', J'onn takes on his tall ebony skinned persona, and is standing next to Hal at the bar as the drinks are served.

He moves one of the drinks over to Hal, taking two more, walking over to Amora and Syn to hand them both a drink. Then moving to pick up one for himself, "A New Year. New Opportunities." Raising glasses to the two Asgardians, "New Friends."

J'onn pauses for a moment, head tilting to the left, "Spearmint twins?" then understanding dawns on his features, "Ah, yes. Well, Swedish is … close?!" J'onn adds, not quite sure, but good enough for the conversation right now. "I will admit, Hal, I do tend to find the very best of places…" and swallows his drink.

Syn looks… well, mostly like herself, aside from the 'Straight Outta Valhalla' tee that is probably as much holes as it is cloth at this point, but still. There's a grunt of acknowledgment in Hal's direction, even if her attention's mostly for J'onn, accepting the drink with a muted kind of noise,"Something needs to be done about Krampus." it's as much for Amora as it is for J'onn, and from the volume at which it's uttered… well, Syn hasn't exactly caught onto this whole 'there's things you don't talk about in front of the normies' thing,"That's the third time he's decided to make an appearance." the '…and kicked my ass' is conveniently left off the end there.

Amora.. Is Amora.

Th dress is tattered now… frayed, spattered in blood, but it does not stop her from taking the drink J'onn offered, even as he guises. Amora's brows furrow. "…why..?" Drink knocked back and the glass is slid across the counter as she looks to Hal… J'onn (detective). "Be You. Hogmanay hold no…..Limits (Bars!)." A fetter of skirts' is torn and wrapped over palm, laced between fingers and tightened by a clamp of teeth and a final pull while fingers curl before her face.

"We will handle Him… Later." Stated by Amora after the fetter of gauzy fabric is pushed from her lips and she leans upon the bar, turning to prop elbows on the eave and watch them all, Hal beside them. "You may want to take a seat, Militant." A smirk as she watches J'onn and Syn, the Jotun tender only parsing drinks per "species".

Hal gets the Midgardian.

The trio get the mead and Honey of Asgardian nectar based on the 'usher' of curled palm and directive.

No more masks, it all stopped when the shrapnel of an internal war hit the ground torn asunder.

"Your friend has re-found the best…. but Home is where the… haut is, right?" A look to Syn and the smirk is framed by the rim of a… Horn, the other two held out 'tween the coil of fingers.

"To Hogmanay…. Freedom."

But of What is unsaid, just the Meaning!
"Swedish." Jon didn't confirm it but Hal is going with it, "New things, year, Yom chow. I think thats cheers…" A lift a down of the drink and a slap down, Syn gets a look and a hiss, "Dude, does she not know I'm not him right now?" A grunt, a sway, "Lady, you're trouble." He says at Syn, pointing at her or at least her shoulder, "Absolute trouble and one day… "

Amora's talk of Hoogmanay has him confused again, "Hogwarts is that what this all is? Some weird nerd Lord of the Rings cosplay wrestle fight? Sexy, stupid nerdy but sexy."
Drink hefted again and waved around behind him at whomever, "To Hog Money!" A bump and a lean, a loud not so whisper to Jon, "Whats hog money? Dibs on the funny talking one. I like when they cant pronounce my name right plus, I kind of want to throat punch the other one… just between you and me. She keeps calling me 'little'." Secret Identities? What are those?

"Fokk, now I have to agree with her." and doesn't that just sit wrong in Syn's mind, though from the way the reaches out to clasp J'onn's arm briefly, she's not going to press him about what face he wants to wear. It doesn't linger, and Amora gets another eye, belligerently defensive as she chooses to take a a gulp from the glass before electing to belly up to the bar, it's probably not coincidence that for sake of peace she's opting to let the men have the space between her and Amora right now. Possibly obvious given her lack of response for the Enchantress' words direct.

There's amusement for Hal's words, the vague headtilt of puzzlement as if she has no earthly idea as to what he's going on about,"Your opinion of trouble is as skewed as your idea of justice, little l… amb. Man." there, look, she actually changed her words just for him,"And if you think yourself man enough, little man… I'll give you the first shot." because bloody and grinning like that just /can't/ bode badly at all.

"I think we could all be considered a bit of trouble, Hal." J'onn replies, tongue tasting the mead, considering that this is perhaps the first drink he's had since coming to Earth that may have an effect on him… interesting. When Syn walks up, he offers her a nod before turning back to Amora, "I was unaware if there would be more that would wander into your establishment…" J'onn explains his change in features, "…and would rather be safe than cause an uproar for some new visitors."

There's a sigh at the interaction between Hal and Syn, but at this point it is becoming common place. He takes another drink, and pauses when Hal whispers about 'dibs'. Finishing the drink, he does manage to whisper to Hal, "I think they are equal parts trouble, my friend…" Eyes moving between the two Asgardian's, "…but I have no doubt that if you are successful, you will find far more than you bargained for this evening."

Setting his now empty drink down, J'onn adds "As far as Hogmanay, I leave it to the two ladies to explain, as I believe I am woefully inadequate in my education of the event to give it justice."

Amora is at her full height. A bit over 6'4, the middle of her back lightly bends on the eave of the bar, instead of the 'small', elbows props back over the lightly scratched surface, fingers 'dusting' debris of the /fray/ from it to galnce down at her reflection, the unravelling braid gripped…

Sigh "B/e/tch…" But Amora is well aware Syn is in earshot, the smirk evident. Braid released for Horn, Syn is given a darker smile as the True Bone opening is neared lips. A narrow set of gaze to the two Jotun who are drawing massive chains through metal handles of 'Doors'.

"Oh, there is no further concern, considering he is one of /Yours/." A tip fo horn to Hal… 'Dibs'… making it freeze in stature…

"What is Dibd? I do not like his tone… Why is your /Arse/ not finding a seat, funny walking one…." Retort made!

"Why are you calling him 'Little L…amb. He is no /griss/ (piglet), /bacraut/ (asshole)… Maybe." The horn tips to and fro and then she drains it.

"Be you, we are anchored, now…" A look to J'onn's, but be whoever you like, I am no one to Judge." Right now!

Syn is given a perk of brow.

"It is no wonder… One Eye upon us all. Some things blinding…" A snort as the broken chain links fall down forearm, clatter and the horn is met in a slam with another, but is refilled by unknown means.

"Hoog/mahh/naaayy// Warrior of Midgard, friend of… The Green." A glance to J'onns, but oh what she /does not know/…

"New Year. For Us." A smile to Syn.

"Will they last 3 days?"
"I think they're insulting me again." Hal glares, "Not just one but two? Shit." Syn gets a prolonged stare, as if he is trying to figure out which one she is, "Your commercials sucked. Big Red is better."

"Jon, man, Jon, make them talk English without the insults, I don't have my r… " His finger comes up and he SHHHHHS all of them, very loudly, "Silence! You people, just don't understand what I'm dealing with okay? Seriously, the weight of the galaxy is on my shoulders, Mine, not yours, not yours… maybe yours." He slaps Jon on the arm, "But you, Swedish Volleyball Players of ASSgard, just, just don't get it. We're the real deal, heroes, mother fucking heroes." Finger jab to his own chest, more over enthusiastic slaps to Jon's shoulder and another long chug at his drink, "Did you know, that I used to be a big deal? I saved forty three planets, FORTY three… " Slurring.

"HOGS FOR THE MANY!" Hal Jordan suddenly shouts lifting his horn, waving it around to the 'bar', "Hogs for the many, damn right."

"Legz, I wouldn't punch you today, its the New Year. Happy New year, you, psychotic fu… " he stops himself with yet another drink, sloshing it out of the rim. "Did I miss the wet tshirt contest? I always do. I always do, Jon."

"That I am." Syn's got no offense at being called a bitch, or, at least, something like it,"That one…" she points in the direction of Hal,"is /not/ one of mine. He's one of /his/." that for J'onn, to judge from the gesture,"And he's definitely bacraut. And Midgardian." the curl of her lip can't quite be helped,"But besides…" nope, she's just going to shut herself up, there's alcohol to be drunk, after all.

Hal's look is returned,"Haven't been in any commercials… /some/ of us don't need the adulation of masses to do our work. And it's Hogmanay. It /used/ to be the twelve days of Yule, but you Midgardians twisted it. Now it's celebrated as the turning of the year. But I suppose everything changes in the end, doesn't it?" psychotic what?

The arch of one perfect brow can't bode well, though there's a look for J'onn before she says to Amora,"Sure, he'll last three days." with far too much casualness.

"It means that he's interested in exploring all that can happen in Hogmanay…" J'onn tells Amora, not exactly lying, but probably stretching the truth based on what he's figured out so far. As Amora says no more visitors, J'onn transitions back to his Martian form, and shakes his head in Hal's direction, "No, Hal. They are insulting each other, not you." Well, against mostly true at this point…

"However, if I understand correctly, the party is to last for three days…" He continues explaining to Hal, "So, unless you have work, this might be a very long an entertaining celebration." and then there is Hal's rant, which does surprise J'onn at first.

"Hal.." J'onn's tone a bit more serious, still friendly to the Green Lantern, "Worry not about such issues tonight and for the next few days. I will know if we are needed, and we will do what is necessary then. For now, drink, relax, and maybe there will be a wet t-shirt contest later?" Although J'onn is not entirely sure how hard it would be to see who can get their shirt the wettest, but he's willing to give any of these weird Earth customs a try.

There is a wry chuckle, though, at both Asgardian's "I am sure we are both capable of lasting three days… some with a longer recovery afterwards than others."

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