Welcome to Dirt

February 24, 2018:

The aptly named Rogue's Roost plays host to colourful chaos

Rogue's Roost - Hell's Kitchen

A pretty OK pub


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Rogue's Roost is a pub like many others in Hell's Kitchen. This particular pub has been here since well before gentrification started to take hold, so it's got authentic touches like worn wooden paneling, random crap taped to the wall behind the bar, and slightly lopsided chairs. But the beer is cheap, the food is fine, and it doesn't smell of urine.
Why a former Valkyrie of Asgard chose this place is anyone's guess. She passed two dozen drinking establishments before choosing to shoulder open this one. She's covered in a loose brown cloak that obscures her armor, though the darts of white face paint and the flash of armored legs sort of…make her stick out. She leans on the bar, face slack and drawn. "Give me an entire bottle of your strongest anything. I don't care how it tastes. That…that one, yes, that's fine."
The bartender, perhaps mistaking her for some kind of lady, sets down a bottle of creme de menthe. He looks confused, but hey, there's a lot of weird shit in this neighbourhood. She opens the bottle, takes a swig, then pulls such a face as green minty grossness dribbles down her mouth. She grabs for a half-empty pint glass beside her and spits it back out. "That is…foul! It tastes like licking the arsehole of a tumpa. Ugh."


It's been too long since Luke and Owen have had a chance to catchup. They have texted a bit back and forth, checking in on one another. But for the first time in a while they are both in the same place and relatively sober, so obviously they are going out drinking. Rogue's Roost despite it's name is not in fact an old haunt of Owen's, but it is a place that he is friendly with the bar tenders. There is a whole sub-culture of servers and bartenders that hit the after hour spots when the bars close down so they are a pretty tightly knit group.

"I'm just sayin. I swear to holy God, if you fight another dragon and don't call me first, I will murder you in your sleep!" Is of course Owen's way of asking if Luke is okay and making sure that no one was hurt in the latest outing that Luke is filling him in on. As they come through the doors, Owen's first priority is making sure that he knows the bartender so that he can drink for cheap. And being Owen, his next bit of business is talent scouting the room. Valkyrie, gets a head tilt, but not much else. In Gotham, she wouldn't even get a second look but this is New York, it's usually less weird. Usually.

Turning his attention back to Luke, Owen continues to ramble at him. "But at least your sober enough to let me get you drunk!" Yes, somehow that makes sense to Owen. Don't think about it too long though, it's Owen logic.


Somewhere along the line of patrons entering and exiting, there's one that undoubtedly catches the eye of the bartender. She looks a little young to be in a place like this; wide eyes and a young face more than likely draw a few quick looks. She draws eyes for a few other reasons, too: She's the fish girl.

Or dragon girl, depends who you ask. The scales are totally a thing, man!

She doesn't look her station as an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., dressed in a white rock band t-shirt too long for her torso, dark leggings, and ankle-high boots, the oversized definitely-for-a-man's frame jacket baggy and loose on her frame, sleeves rolled up to just below her elbows.

Easing up to the bar, easily within ear-shot of Valkyrie, the Inhuman Sloane Albright stops, hands resting on the bar as she flashes a polite— if very fangy— sort of smile. "Hi, sorry — I'm looking for a friend that went running off all over town tonight. I don't suppose you've seen a loud girl with a weird accent come charging in demanding the hardest liquor in the house, have you?"

She doesn't mention the goat. She never mentions the goat.


"Like I had time to activate the phone tree." Luke says dryly as he lumbers in after Owen, flicking down the hood of his sweatshirt and pawing off his knit beanie when they're through the door. The dragon thing was pretty much the last straw of pretending they live normal, ordinary lives where things like face painted women or chicks with scales in dive bars would cause him to raise more than an eyebrow. Hey, maybe it's just the latest trend from Vogue magazine. More the strong and silent type, he just claps Owen on the shoulder at the mention of getting him drunk, an appreciative bro squeeze for the gesture.


"Of course Toothbender can play the game, he will simply throw the projectiles with his mouth. Come, Toothbender, it is the time of your ascension. You see, he is quite an intelligent fellow." This, said as Atli furiously jams darts into the mouth of her companion, a very large, very ornory space goat. The goat, for it's part barely blinks it's big eyes, staring at the dartboard in the utmost concentration. One might imagine sweat beading his furry brow, if he could sweat, his focus unyielding. For today, he was given a task by The Girl of Thunder, as evidenced by the jamming sharp things in his mouth. He must not fail her now.

"Verily you furry fool, toss the little bolts before we all die of thirst."


There is a moment of abject realization as Atli stars at her goat eating all of the darts in just a few chomping, ear-wrenching swirls of his jaw, a twitch of her eye as her companions, a biker crew of some sort or another who had MONEY on this endeavor, grow agitated. Hands on her hips, Atli Wodendottir lets out a profuse sigh of frustration, tilts her head back a bit, and simply pulls the sword from her back. With a flick of her wrist, it grows into the form of a great spear, which she turns to throw at the dartboard with a sudden, heavy crack of metal on corkboard and wood.

To say it is a bullseye is not accurate, for while it was a good throw, the board simply splits in half around the spear and falls to the floor.


Atli alone celebrates, and then the drunken fugue of her companions kick in and they give her a shake of the shoulders and a shout for victory drinks to pour from the heavens.

They will have to settle for whatever the waitress, Beth, brings them however.


It's way too easy to ditch babysitting duties with Kitty. And while Rocket thinks that her desire to be a positive role model for his recently made pint-sized tree buddy is a noble attempt, he's just glad that she hasn't picked up on Groot-ese to realize just how much the tree-tyke was already cursing. Really, the things the kid says! …maybe he should put that kiddy lock on their Netflix account. Ah well.

The door to the pub opens, but people glancing at the usual head-height of humans wouldn't see anyone stepping inside. Adjusting the angle down to about two to three feet from the floor, they'd see the latest supposed patron of the pub, hands stuffed into the pockets of a winter jacket that was probably found in the kid's section at a department store. Hey, they make nice stuff for kids these days! Like mini grown-ups!

His tail is tucked under his jacket, mostly to keep out of the way of careless Terrans' feet as he weaves his way over towards the bar counter and hops up onto a stool that he steals before someone else takes it. The poor guy's shout in protest dies abruptly when he sees the small Guardian sneering at him, or rather the fact that it's something that looks very much like a raccoon wearing clothes and oh man he hasn't even started drinking yet. Rocket laughs as he hurries off, then swivels around, pounding a fist on the counter for service.

"…." His ears perk and his head turns at the shouting. He grins a bit as he locates Atli easily enough now that he can see past people's heads.


What does one do after a frustrating dinner with their spouse? Well, if you're Barda, you armor up and go looking for wrongs to right with your fists. New York wasn't her territory and she failed to find anything before she gave up for a drink and contemplation in.. Rogue's Roost. She'd already been there for a while, an Amazon of a woman in blue and gold armor watching the antics at the dart board with only mild concern for the goat.


"No, come on, that one. Yes," Valkyrie snap-snaps. But the bartender is being too slow. So she hops up and over the bartop, grabs the bottle off the shelf for herself, uncaps it, then takes a healthy swig. She pulls the bottle down and eyes the label. "Still tastes like water, but at least it isn't green." Her bottle of choice? 140 proof vodka, and the bottle is suddenly emptying faster than if it was full of water. She downs it in full view of Owen and Luke. She wipes her hand across her mouth when it finishes and raises the empty bottle in salute to them.
She can't quite see the business with the goat, but she can hear shouts and destruction. A lopsided smile slips across her face as she reaches for another bottle. "…I like this place." Her eyes skim over Rocket, but hey, she's from his neck of the woods. Nothing strange about a small furry humanoid. She's been too busy helping herself to booze to have noticed Sloane so far.
Meanwhile, the bartender is over there, just burying his face in his hands in dismay. This used to be a totally normal hole in the wall.


You have a space goat. In a bar. And now there's raccoon in clothes.. who wants a drink.

"Are you sure we're not in Gotham Luke? Because it's been a while since I've dropped acid and I feel like I'm trippin' balls right now."

Flashing two and two at the bartender kind of like a blinking peace sign, but with a purpose, Owen orders two shots of whiskey and two beers. He looks at Luke's hand on his shoulder and then up at his former boss, with look that is both disdainful of the physical contact while still managing to show slight appreciation somehow. Complicated man feelings.

Seeing Sloane walk in Owen narrows his eyes. He knows her from the battle at Stark's but doesn't have a name other than Water Gun McFish, which is of course the name he gave her in his head, not anything anyone actually called her. He eavesdrops on her conversation and is surprised to see not only one, but maybe 3 women who might fit that description, in this bar.

Watching Valkyrie grab the bottle, Owen is at first a bit concerned for the bartender, but then she downs it in one go.

"Tommy. You want me to take over? This looks more like a crowd my speed..?"

The poor cowering bartender looks up long enough to nod in ascent.

"Luke, looks like I just picked up a shift, but we can still drink together. Like old times. Except I'm not sticking to beer since you don't own the place."


Luke's hand goes to visor over his eyes, his head cowering down slightly like he tries to become inconspicuous while simultaneously blocking his view of the room. "Does that mean you can see the trash panda and the goat too?" He ask Owen right before the man hops behind the bar. You know what fixes uncomfortable social situations? Booze. He's reaching for the shot Owen ordered and downs it. Not quite as impressive as Valkyrie doing the same to an entire bottle, but he still salutes her back with the empty vessel. If nothing else, the night will be interesting.


It doesn't click for Sloane — at least not at first — that the bar is full of the unusual, the exotic, and the ladies clad head to toe in armor and clearly not doing a whole ton to cover it up. Once she really starts looking around, however, her eyes fall on Barda, primarily due to the armor. Valkyrie is glanced at, but only for a moment, those slit-pupil eyes trailing off to catch sight of Owen heading to the bar, and the large man— Luke— that was at the table with him.


She doesn't know him well; they've only really spoken once in passing, but of course she's had a briefing on the presence of known, registered and logged aliens living on Earth.

Then, she hears it: The goat. The /goat/.

Sloane's shoulders slump with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she shifts back a step and turns to start striding toward the Asgardian — toward Atli, rather than the woman with the painted face drinking away her troubles. Falling into line with her — and Toothbender — she folds her arms and sighs.

"Atli, did Toothbender eat a barstool?"


"Just remember fine fellows, rowdy bunch and all, whoever holds this spear of mine, if they be worthy, may gain the power of… AHAHAH! NOTHING! You fools! it is not Mjolnir! It is simply Jarnbjorn, made anew. I believe my grandfather lost to many arguments with his hammer and so, did not saddle me with such a curse of being married to the fool thing. No no, you get nothing. Well, almost nothing, it is quite heavy. If you can lift it from the wall there and return it to me, then you will have won a prize most rare. A night of private combat, of bodies, thrust against one another in savage competition! A night to remember with…"

'Atli, did Toothbender eat a barstool?'


None of them really understand this but they cheer all the same, rushing over to the spear to pull it free. This, she ignores, to round on her scaled friend and charge forth, pushing a few errant bodies out of the way. It all falls apart when she sees Rocket in his WITTLE COAT OH NO.

"That… is that Rocket? The cut of his garb is most fierce. Quickly, Child of Wehrsweir, brace me for I may be dying. Or perhaps it is everything I have drunk tonight, for the bars before ran dry and so has my gold. Wait.. wait.. that woman there. Is she some form of Giant?" Of course, she means Barda. "SLOANE. Look at her helmet. Does it not remind you of another garb most fierce? Of another, larger than life? This world does not know the fire it unleashed when I saw the King of Magnets in glorious battle, and here I yet say it is stoked again by another! Or at least, I like her helmet very much. Quickly, we must all fetch a table so I may attempt some of the various things I have learned from the History of the Land of Salem, that land, in which, these are the Days of Our Lives."

They let her watch soap operas.

You're all doomed.

Meanwhile the GOAT retrieves the spear, quieting the crowd behind her into a dull sort of stare, as it chews on it to no avail. Yes, her weapon is his favorite chew toy, and only gets to engage in this sort of nonsense while Atli is distracted.


Oh, this is all typical Atli-ese that Rocket kind of takes it in stride. He grins at her. Why yes, he does look pretty fierce in this, don't he? Rrrrar. The grin all but fades as he turns his attention back towards the bartender. "'ey! What's a guy gotta do to get some service around here!"

Now he gets a better look of all the other assorted visitors to the pub, eyeing them from the familiar scaled young woman whom he offers a nod before going down the line. Chick guzzling bottles down. Not that unusual a sight, but then he has to remind himself that this is Terra and not some alien hangout. Of course, he could be mistaken.

There's a record screech of a pause as he glares over in Luke's direction. "HEY I heard that."


Barda is used to sticking out everywhere on this planet; she looks oddly comfortable standing there in her armor, helmet tucked under one arm and a bottle of some dark brew in her other hand. The red-head with the goat starts shouting about Rocket and Barda finally looks around, pointing at him with her bottle.

"HELLO ROCKET." If there's anything in the room right now that's bigger than Barda, it's the potential of her voice. She grins over the heads of the other patrons at her furry acquaintance, who is mid-altercation with Luke.

Look at her helmet.

Barda's smile falters as the red-head suddenly turns to regard her with her speech-making. She glances down at the helmet sidelong, where its cradled against her hip, and then lifts it back onto her hip. "Yes, thank you." At least she has other weirdos to sit with now.


When Valkyrie of Asgard in a cloak with face paint and armed with bladed weapons, who is downing bottles of vodka is far and away not the strangest sight in the room, yes, the evening will be an interesting one. "You," she points at Owen. "Which one of these is the strongest? Preferably something that would kill him if he drank a whole bottle," she then points at Luke.
She does, out of the corner of her ear, hear words that tighten her spine. Despite nearly everyone else in the room looking towards goat-antics, she's instead keeping her attention on the two normal guys and getting shit-faced. Priorities.
When Rocket demands a drink, she eyes the shelf, grabs a bottle of gin and deposits it in front of him. "Good enough? I haven't the faintest idea what it is but it has a high number on it." And that's how she chooses all her drinks.


Taking his own shot of whiskey from the opposite side of the bar, Owen appears now to be back in his element. He sends Tommy to the back to go compose himself or take a smoke break. He picks up his own beer and says "Alright ya filthy animals. And crazy armor wearing chicks who look like they could snap me in half. New bartender. New rules."

Here Owen gives Luke his best crazy eyes of 'You are likely going to have to save me, aren't you glad you agreed to this?' before continuing on. "First. Next person to reach across this bar and serve themselves gets their hand pinned to the bar with a large knife. " *BAM* Before most people can blink Owen has pulled that knife and stuck in the bar for emphasis.

"Two. The goat goes. Unless it can order it's own drink like this … guy" See? Owen is fair and just. Rocket can order a drink so he stays. "Unless you got no money, then yer out too fuzzy."

"Third. This guy over here is Luke. And everyone's doing a shot with him now." Here Owen again indicates his former boss, and starts lining up shots for people. "On me!"

Looking at Valkyrie to answer her question, he answers "I think you already downed it sweetcheeks. But if you want something good, I'd recommend a 12 year old whiskey. It's about two hundred a bottle here though. If yer lookin' to down bottles, there are cheaper places to do that."


'It TALKS' gets mouthed by Luke to Owen before he swivels to look, well, down at the raccoon fellow near him at the bar. "Meant nothing by it, man. Loved your work in all those Disney animated films." Cage is reaching to start passing out those shots that Owen is lining up, the first of which is going to Rocket by way of some sort of apology. "And it takes at /least/ two bottles of anything to kill me nowadays." He comments to Val as he slides out shot glasses to some others.


Earlier on in their friendship, Sloane would have reacted to Atli ranging from 'light shoves' to 'bowling over' people unfortunate enough to be between her and the Asgardian with a little more hesitation; the fiery redhead quite frankly intimidated her. Now, she's just hoping there's no drunken Atli hugs involved; her ribs are tough but they're not /that/ tough.

Then the Inhuman turns her attention, as Atli points out, Rocket and his attire, giving the space raccoon a second look. But then the attention shifts to Barda again, her armor, and her helmet, as well as any percieved comparison of it to the 'King of Magnets.' "You mean, M…" Wait, don't repeat the name out loud— she's still in a bit of hot water with her bosses over that one. "Y-Yeah, that guy? Yeah. Maybe?"

Owen starts laying down the ground rules. Jaw setting forward, the dragon-fish girl just glances at Atli and scrunches her brow. "You can have mine, it's fine. Just — you should probably see if you can tie Toothbender to a post outside or something. … I mean, as long as he doesn't run off with a streetlamp."

For emphasis, she looks back at the space goat, points at her eyes, then points at the goat's eyes.


In between pouring Owen shrugs at Luke and gets close enough to say "Dude, don't ask me. I thought I he was a fuckin' squirrel." He's not good with taxonomy. But yea, raccoon does make more sense.


"Oh look'it that, I'm famous tonight. Heya Barda!" Rocket greets, raising a hand to wave at the woman. Armor in a bar? Totally normal! Weapons? More so! You don't want to know how many guns and explosives he might have under his jacket.

A bottle gets passed over towards him from Valkyrie. He grins at her, and then shifts a look towards the guy who seems to have replaced the bartender. Huh. He arches a brow as Owen sets new house rules, although there's some amusement at the knife that's brought out. The hesitation using Rocket as an example is more than a little obvious, and by now per the norm that Rocket just grins toothily at Owen. "Yeah. An' hey, don't worry about money. You act like I've never been to a Terran bar before. Or a bar in general." Snort. Yeesh. Terrans.

Catching the shot slung his way from Luke, he takes it up in his hand, saluting Luke with it. That's a good way to start for an apology. The rest to follow…is not. "Yeah, no. Okay just shut up and pass me drinks an' we'll be cool."


"Two hundred what?" says Valkyrie. She starts looking along the shelves for the bottle Owen referred to. She's still behind the bar. Obviously she hasn't taken his threat seriously. "From what I hear, you have about eighty different currencies in Midgard. What kind do you use here in Slovenia? Or is it Antarctica?" She turns back to the selection of booze, then finally locates the whiskey in question. She pulls it down and uncaps it to give it a sniff. She waggles the bottle at Rocket as if asking his opinion. The shot glasses are eyed. "Those tiny glasses aren't going to get anyone shitfaced."


Does Atli's hair blow back when Barda shouts? Surely that must have been a coincidence, but she thought she saw Rockets glorious, most exceptional fur ripple with the power of it as well. And.. does this woman know Rocket? VICTORY INDEED. Of course, all of this is shunted to the side as this man behind the bar imbeds a knife in it, brows lifting as she upsends something that those of keen nose will know is mixed with a little special something, spicy and exotic and aged on Asgard for a millenia or more. Then, it comes like a tidal wave, a challenge. The goat must go? Even Sloane, faithful friend and battle-companion of Toothbender buys into this suggestion? There is only one response.

"Ha! You and your man at arms are welcome to remove him, if he bids you welcome to remove him. Mind the teeth, his horns, and his tendency to gas those nearby with foul remnants of culinary victories past! Bring your might to bear and know that you face a true warrior in my hooved companion, look at him now, he defies you with his very presence! Fierce eyed! Strong witted! He is twice the man you could ever hope to be!"

Atlis steps aside to reveal her goat in battle formation. Or, that was the plan. Toothbender is sound asleep, drooling a pool of foulness all over one end of her spear. This eventually draws Atli's gaze, and her expression sours. "I will meet you half way and see that no one rouses him from this, his fifth nap of the day."

That done she points at the bar and begins to usher Sloane this way, and finds a seat next to Barda, so she can smile up at her, you know, one of this big, dumb smiles that says… something. About how much she likes that helmet. "I like all of it's points, and also the curves, and the way it is most armored. Here, let us all celebrate! I offer peace in the form of Asgardian Sigrund, the nectar of the Gods themselves. This is the brew of Decimux, a refugee to our realm in the wake of Gor's fool slaughtering. You should all know this is the last of it, but I share it with you, Large, Giant Woman, Sloane, Empress of Scale Oil, and Fair Rocket, fierce and strong. And I suppose you, Knife Wielding Barmaid and Man at Arms, and…"

After gesturing to Owen and Luke in turn she looks to Valkyrie for the first time in the evening. Like two doomed fish circling the same terrible drain, they have avoided direct contact thus far. But now Atli's eyes narrow, perhaps on her markings, or what she might see of her armor. It is to bad she was not the Bookish one of the sister's three, or she might recognize some of it. Instead she recognizes someone who needs to drown their woes as much as she did when she first arrived in this blasted landscape of what humans call civilization.

"Verily, you look as if you need this more than I do."

After pouring but a drop in the many shots, and then another drop each in the beer chasers, she slides the Sigrund brew over towards the displaced Valkyrie.


Barda is listening to Owen tell them all the rules like a school girl who needs to take notes. She doesn't know anything about the laws that regulate Earth bars, this will be useful information! Her attention ping-pongs from the bartender to various people who are NOT following the rules, including that goat. What a strange rule. What does talking have to do with anything?! And there's Atli.

"I am Big Barda." She says simply as she accepts the drink.


Owen may not be a native New Yorker, but being assailed by accusations of this being all sorts of random foreign places is kind of insulting. This is New York! Come on! "First off, we ain't in Tehran, Antartica, Slovenia or any other such nonsense. This is 'murica. So it's dollars. And you are in New York City. The greatest city in the world." At least according to Owen who has been to about 3 major cities in all of his life, so yea, it don't mean much.

"Second, if yer only aim is to get wasted and drinking a bottle of vodka don't cut it? Well, I got some suggestions but ya can't buy it at the bar." Seriously? Horse tranqs maybe? Owen is legitimately wondering what drugs he would recommend, like some sort of bizarro mixologist.

Turning to Luke he asks "You feel like throwing a goat out? I would but 'm a touch busy pouring drinks." And with that he's pulling down pints of beer. The cheapest thing they have on tap, just in case. Rocket gets it, but he's not sure the other patrons understand the concept of money, and he doesn't want them to bleed the place dry.


"And ''murica' is on Terra. Get a clue." Rocket snorts and tips the shot glass up, swallowing down its contents before slamming the empty glass back on the counter. "Ah~"

He starts filling his own glass with the bottle that Valkyrie had given him earlier, shaking his head as Atli speaks again. "Yeah, careful with the goat. You don't mess with that thing unless you wanna be punted to Xandar."


Luke's fingers flare up away from his palms in capitulation to Rocket, leaving the offering of booze to fix where his words are failing him. Hey, at least he didn't ask about rabies. Yet. The night is still young. Suddenly he finds himself on goat duty, and with a sigh the big man eases up from his seat. "Come have a drink, he said. It'll be fun, he said." A smile crooks on his lips despite himself as he walks in that direction.

"Evening, ladies. It's not like a goat in the middle of the bar isn't amusing, leaving behind cute little poop pellets of petrified evil for the poor barback to have to sweep up later, but we're all guests here. This place is probably one health code violation from having it's doors closed, and we don't want to cause the owner undo duress when we're all just trying to have a good night. So. The goat goes, but I'll make him nice and comfy outside with something less metal to chew on, hmm?" Or, if things go sideways, he can always sell him to the guy on the corner selling gyro meat of unknown origin.


"Well very sorry to offend your gentle Murikite sensibilities," says Valkyrie with a mock curtsey. She takes a swig from the bottle, then sighs at its contents. Barely even tingles.
The word 'nectar' has her turning her head towards Atli, the one person she was pointedly ignoring because something about her vocabulary was too familiar. "I'm not a bloody barmaid." She does however, reach for the offered bottle like a person dying of thirst. For a moment, her Valkyrie tattoo is visible on her forearm, but one would have to be observant to catch it.
"And you don't want that because Xandar is full of douches," she says as an aside to Rocket. Then she swallows from the decidedly not-Terran booze. Ahhh, that's the stuff.


For a second, she considers just walking up to the goat and trying to lead him outside, but there's a distinct lack of gnawing, chewing, and things breaking. When Atli leans aside, Sloane too leans to look— and the sight of Toothbender in truth napping in the corner deflates all her bravado and makes it all the easier for her to be guided over to the bar and plunked down on a stool.

She looks out of place there. She /feels/ out of place.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, her eyes close. "Oh my god Atli you know I'm not allowed. I don't need to get in any more trouble." After a sigh, the ginger Inhuman's fiery slit-pupil eyes lift, trying her best to look polite, to look at Barda. "Sloane Albright."

Head falling into a scale-backed hand as Luke issues an ultimatum, Sloane sighs, slumping further— it looks like this isn't the first time she's had a conversation like this /tonight/. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll do what I can to help you get the goat outside. Just be careful or else I can't guarantee where you'll end up."


"It is fun! You love this!" Calls Owen loudly after Luke as he hears his grumbling. "And you love me!" He takes a sip of his own beer as if to punctuate the statement and then turns back to Rocket and Valkyrie.

"Alright fine. I'll bite." He sighs as if knowing that he's going to regret this one. "If yer not from here. And I take it ya mean Earth when ya say Terra. Cause we crazy Earth folks don't call it Tara." Here he specifically substitutes 'TAR-A' to emphasize what he thinks is a funny concept of calling the earth by a random girls name. Like he's suddenly from planet Tina. "Where y'all from?"

"I'll go first. I'm Owen. I'm from Gotham. It's the crazy city across the river where people dress up in costumes and either murder people or stop other people from murdering people. It's lovely."


"This seems like a strange rule." Barda eyes Luke. "..but I will help secure the goat. Don't worry Sloane." She rises.. and rises.. and rises from her seat, leading the way.. TO BATTLE.


Luke scrubs up the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbows, "I'm not so concerned about the biting or horn gouging, but kicking me into another realm thing no longer seems so far fetched." His eyes flick up to Atli, still wondering why the woman won't just comply herself and take her animal friend out, but with a sigh he just says to Barda. "I'll go high, you go low."


Luke scrubs up the sleeves of his hoodie to his elbows, "I'm not so concerned about the biting or horn gouging, but kicking me into another realm thing no longer seems so far fetched." His eyes flick up to Atli, still wondering why the woman won't just comply herself and take her animal friend out, but with a sigh he just says to Barda. "I'll go high, you go low." His hands go out in a fan, like he expects the goat to wake up and bolt. Then to Sloane, "Don't need to call me a sir, I'm not in charge, I'm just trying to hold onto my thin grasp of sanity."


Barda wasted no time, leaping upon the sleeping goat in hopes of taking it by surprise! She fell upon the beast with an arm around its neck and a hand on one of his dangerous horns. In this way, she means to haul him up and lead him outside by that horn.


"Gotham, oh yeah. Used to stay out there up in that fancy neighborhood with the giant houses. Still take roadtrips. Fun place. Me- from Halfworld. Don't go. Terrible place." Rocket swallows another shot. He glances at Valkyrie and nods. "I see you've been to Xandar," he grins, although there's a moment of consideration to warn the woman when she's passed a drink from Atli. Then again, the woman was guzzling enough things earlier- huh. Okay then. "You sling back drinks like an Asgardian." He's been around enough to see a resemblance anyway.


*CLICK* Owen rudely interrupts his conversation to take a photo of Luke carrying the goat on his phone. Quickly sending that off into the digital ether somewhere.
He comes back to the conversation though as Rocket explains he's from a place called halfworld. "Halfworld? Do they just like put half things together there? Like half raccoon half man? Half duck half laser gun? .. I wish I had laser duck."

Asgardian? Like Swiss Gods? (Close Owen) He turns to face Valkyrie with a tilted head. Waiting to hear her piece.


When Sloane complains of being allowed, Atli has the perfect solution! "Look, here, your documentation has arrived! Rocket and Groot worked long hours on this, your beautiful face-card." Sloane's fake ID is slid across the bar, manufactured with only the best alien technology and at least one, unneeded artificial limb from some fool who owed them money.

Wehrsa Weir is 22 years old today. And was that.. was that picture taken ON GENOSHA?! It was. It was. Procured from the optical sensor daintily removed from one Genoshan Iron Guard Dude. It has Sloane's 'I'm Blasting You With Water Face' on it.'

Of course, Barda is leaving her side, and there Luke goes, her brows lifting as they prepare themselves to wrangle the goat. Why would she not comply? Well, for the same reason she would not remove Rocket, or Sloane, or anyone who is her friend and battle companion!

"Verily, this should be grand." She elbows both Rocket and Sloane then, nudging them to draw attention the spectacle. And oh, what a spectacle it is. There is a sound when Barda leaps upon the beast that is not unlike a hefty 'AROOO?', suddenly roused from it's own half drunken stupor, it finds in Barda someone strong enough to wrangle one of it's ends, and Luke already has it's other. This won't do at all!!


It's bleat nearly shatters the windows, it's terrible thrashing of it's one-ton frame swaying two and fro. But that is not the worst of it. The worst of it is in the glow that begins to form around it's hind end. A rainbow glare that burns most bright.

It reflect in Atli's eyes, and just after taking a drink she throws an arm around Rocket and Sloane both, reminded of her most recently watched Earth History Vid.

"Where they're going, they won't need roads."


"We call it Terra or Midgard because Earth is a stupid bloody name. It's like calling your home 'Rock' or 'Dirt.' Although from what I've seen of it so far…" Valkyrie looks around judgingly and presses her tongue on the inside of her cheek.
She makes a noise of agreement at Rocket's comments. "Good food. Insufferable people." The 'Asgardian' comment does make her shoulders tense. "Do I?" She sounds like one, too. To humans, she sounds English, but someone with a better intergalactic ear knows the difference there, too.
Goat shenanigans are pointedly not witnessed. She knows better than to mess with a creature like that.


"Luke! Abort! It's ass is glowing!" Owen can barely get the words out because he's laughing so hard.


Luke's hands immediately fling away from the goat, and provided that Barda does the same, the thing will just be unceremoniously dropped on the ground. "You know what, I never thought I'd be happy to say this, but. Not my circus, not my monkeys." But provided that he ever does rebuild his bar, there will most certainly be a sign on the door of a picture of a goat with a big red circle around it and slash through it. "Glowing asses is where I draw the line."


Barda, for her part, does NOT drop the goat. Held to the challenge, unwilling to quit, she is doused in such rainbow energy as to look most stunning. Then, in a great woosh of air, in a sudden, terrible clap of something like thunder, a mini-Bifrost generated by the goat's hindparts suddenly sends them BOTH elsewhere, leaving Luke in a steaming, goatly wake of goatfulness.


Rocket eyes Owen as he forgoes the the shotglass and just starts drinking straight from the bottle. "Wouldn't be surprised if they did, pal." Not that they do anymore, which Rocket's glad of.

He almost chokes on his drink when Atli slings an arm around him. "What th- Oh. You know, one of these days that goat is gonna start a war. And I hope that when it does, I will be on his side." Seriously. Don't mess with the goat.

Another tip of the bottle and a loud laugh to follow, the small Guardian snap-pointing at Valkyrie when she explains. "Thank you. See, I dunno why a place with people who think they're so smart go an' name their homeworld dirt." He nods after lowering the bottle from his mouth again. "Oh yeah. You so do. I been there. Those parties are wild. …'cept they kinda get upset when you break their statues, even if it's by accident."

There's really nothing more to do when it comes to Toothgnasher but kick back and watch the show.


Again, Sloane pinches the bridge of her nose. "Atli, I could lose my job if I tried something like that. I mean, on top of that, the bartender is literally right in front of us. Talking to all of us. Right there. Like two feet away."

She waves at Owen for emphasis.

'Asgardian.' Her head tilts to look back and forth between Rocket and Valkyrie, trying to strain her ear through the wild talking and potential chaos. She stops to focus at Valkyrie, too— trying to remember if she's ever seen or heard of the woman before. This might be something she may have to call in… or at least put Coulson in the loop somehow.

Then, Atli's arm is around her shoulder, and she's spun to see the goat roused to life and making some big noises at Big Barda and Luke. Toothbender is gone, dragging the former along. Sloane's hand lifts toward Cage, fingers fanned out with an expression of just trying to hold together with the walking chaos elemental that is Atli Wodansdottir. "Don't step forward yet, it might end up exactly … like. — You don't want to get hit with a space goat at full speed."


"You don't look like a being who breaks things by accident," drawls Valkyrie to Rocket. There might be a little bit of amusement in her voice. She works her jaw to the side and examines the chaos. If there's one thing she's learned in the centuries of keeping her head down, it's when to leave the scene of a would-be crime. Now, after drinking down a lot of expensive alcohol and not dropping any coin down for its payment, the tiny but mighty not-barmaid clambers up and over the bar and starts to go for the exit, side-stepping any goat-related chaos.


When Valkyrie rises to go, Atli gives a brilliant smile and a bit of a wave. "Might I have my fl-." Well, so long flask. Ah well, it is something she can ask about later. Still, she can't be mad, really she can only be stunned that Barda and Luke actually manage to contain the goat for a few moments before SUDDENLY IT IS GONE WITH BARDA.

"Toothbender you foolish fool! Come back at once and bring that woman and her beautiful armored everything!! She was glorious! No Fair Rocket, but we all have our limitations!"

Finally she releases her friends from the hold, well, Rocket anyway, giving his head a dainty tease of her nails before she offers Sloane a… Diet Coke.

"I have heard much of this drink on the television device. Drink well, good friend, for you have always been at my side ever since retrieving me from that terrible underwater machine, and I owe you much. Friend Luke, do enjoy the rest of your evening, and well done avoiding the Goat's hindparts, they are the most dangerous. BARKEEP! Round for everyone!"

A single gold coin hits the bartop, rumbling around until falling flat before Owen.


"I don't really feel like ending my evening finding out the definition of just what a space goat /is/." Luke says as he carefully, slowly, backs away from the area where the beast and Barda disappeared, giving it a wide berth as he retreats back to the bar. "Bro, I think your shift is officially over. Let's go find that theme bar that Bart is working at now, and see if he's wearing his twenty pieces of flare and make fun of him." Val seems to have the same sort of idea of cutting losses, "And next time, missy, we'll have that drinking contest. Owen, pay the lady's tab and let's hit pavement." As the swing-shift bartender begrudgingly digs out enough cash to cover the damage, Luke raises a hand in parting to the others. "May you all never find your way to Harlem, but I'll drink with you anytime."


"It was too an accident!" Beat. "Also, it was Quill's fault."

Rocket's attention has been captured by the disappearance of the goat. He's not even going to ask. Mostly because this is about the usual whenever Atli and the goat are in one place. He's still not quite sure how Sloane had ever gotten roped into things, but he wouldn't put it beyond Atli to do so. The scaled Inhuman is given something of a grin. Maybe he's trying to be sympathetic. Or maybe he's laughing at her.

Atli's call for free drinks has the raccoonoid hoist up his bottle with a whoop. That might also be a farewell to those leaving. "I'll drink t'that!" Wait, no, people might get the wrong idea. Oh well.


After all the wine and flasks and misunderstandings about her age, Sloane is a little surprised when it's soda pushed toward her rather than alcohol. Taking a drink, her hand comes up to her mouth, face scrunching as it takes a second for her to drink it down. Shaking her head a little, she glances down at the top of the can. "Wow. I didn't — wow."

"This tongue's so different. I didn't expect it to taste so strong."

And then she just /keeps drinking/. "Thanks, Atli. I'm… sorry for being wound up so tight."

The ginger Inhuman glances back at Rocket, too, giving her best to throw the raccoonoid a helpless, 'what can you do' sort of shrug.

"This is me. This is my life now."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License