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Summary: Pietro stops by the bar for a drink. He finds that he and the Bartender
have different opinions when it comes to the responsibilities of mutants to their own kind.
Log Title: Conflicting Paradigms
Rating: G
Mutant Town - Nowhere
Nowhere is a community bar, with a slightly old world feel. All of the tables and chairs are made of wood, though there are some couches in a slightly offset room with green fabric. The music varies, depending upon the Owner's music taste for the day. Beer and Liquor are both served, but are both carded for as well.
At the front of the bar, right as one walks in,is a large sign. "Superhuman friendly establishment. There will be no tolerance for disparaging remarks based on one's genetic status. Any fights will not be tolerated within the bar. The management holds no responsibility for where combatants are teleported."
Scene
Two men near the door are arguing. In German no less. One is nearly six foot six, and a towering, Handsome blond with dark eyes. He's wearing nice, but casual attire, and clearly works out a great deal. The other is roughly six feet, and far leaner. He also stands out in that he's silver hair, yet looks in his early thirties. Pietro is that silver haired one of course, and he's looking quite angry as he argues with the blond. This argument doesn't last long however. About twenty seconds of tense, harsh words, and then the blond stalks out.
Pietro throws up his hands in frustration before running one of those hands over his hair. Does little to make those two errant locks lay down, and they are soon dancing before his eyes again. With an obvious deep breath to calm himself, the Avenger makes his way to the bar. He pulls a cell phone from a pants pocket and checks it as he waits there.
The bar is slightly crowded considering it’s a Tuesday night. Actually, the bar always seems to have a healthy number of patrons within it. Bruce figures that this is because it’s an openly mutant-friendly establishment. The people in the surrounding community probably feel more welcome here than at other bars. This is the perfect setting for the man. He gets to work in a profession he’s used to while meeting other mutants. He hopes there are others with similar views as his, but he has yet to catch anyone whispering about Magneto.
Bruce is wearing his usual blue jeans and brown tank top. His dog-tags are visible, but are marked “RAIC” and each tag has a different name etched into it. He is currently looking rather confusedly at one of the patrons. “You wanna what? An Irish Carbomb?” His accent is thickly Australian, though some may confuse it for British. Apparently he is not familiar with some of the American drink names. He shakes his head and points a thumb at the patron, “Bloke wants us to blow up his moto, methinks.” The other tender chuckles and makes the drink for the man as Bruce moves on to his next patron, Pietro. “Hey fella, what can I get ya today? Something to cool ya down after that blue with yer mate?” Seems he noticed the argument.
"Don't even get me started." His English barely has any accent at all, but it doesn't take much to grasp that he's European. Being that he was speaking German and all. Pietro leans himself against the counter, eyes on the phone a moment more before looking to Bruce. Those eyes are the color of glacier ice - a vivid hue indeed. "How many ways can you tell a man you'll never be interested in men before he believes?" No, there's no shame in him saying this, for what shame is to be had in it? Pietro is clearly upset at it, but not for the reasons one may jump to if going by his comments. Nor does he expect Bruce to give him an answer for it. "Gin for me."
Bruce Laughs rather loudly and rubs the back of his head. “Oh my, is’e drunk? I mean, I’ve been known to be guilty of that one if I’m really off me face.” He turns around and grabs the gin off the shelf before pouring it into a glass with some ice. “If’e’s that persistent, though, just give ‘im a good punch.” He hesitates for a moment, “Not in here, though. Management’ll be unhappy.” He places the glass on a napkin and slides it toward Pietro. “Haven’t seen you in here before, granted I just started the other day. What was that you were speakin? French?”
Pietro merely eyes Bruce for the punch idea. "I believe that may qualify as foreplay for the man. No thank you." No conflicting messages here. The phone is tucked back into a pocket, for there was nothing there to truly look at. It merely proved a momentary distraction. "He is a good friend, and I have no wish to lose him as such." Never mind the fact that Pietro kind of up and moved to America with no warning recently. That isn't what a good friend does.
A glance to the drink before him, and then a stern look at Bruce. This one inherited his father's ability to glower. "German." Idiot. That's what his tone drips. "French sounds nothing like German." Before taking a drink, the man pays for it first. Offering out a bill of the proper denomination. "Is this your first trip over seas?"
Bruce chuckles as Pietro mentions the other man's likely reaction. He cracks open a couple of beers for a violet woman while listening. "Ah well I'm sure he'll come around eventually. Sounds like he just needs to find a fella of his own. Try setting 'im up on a blind date or something. Show 'im you care about him, but that you're not the wifey type." He turns back to Pietro and takes the bill, rplacing it with change a few seconds later. Pietro's harsh reply about the language seems not to dampen the Ausy's spirits. "Op, sorry mate. Not too good with them other languages and all." He furrows his brow, "And yeah, served in the Middle East for a while there." He flicks his dog tags and picks up a glass to dry out. "At least France is next to Germany, so I was close geographically."
A hand is motioned as though the idea were an annoying insect. "As irresistible as I know I am," and yes, that is in fact sarcastic. Pietro knows how he is, appearance aside, "I have far better things to do with my time, and so does he." Still, there's a smirk for it and he finally takes a swallow of his drink. Brows arch over that glass at the idea Bruce thinks close geographically seems to help. "I'm entirely uncertain whether or not to laugh or be horrified." And not by that stint in the Middle East.
With that Pietro gives demonstrations. He speaks first in French, which is a fluid language. Very pretty depending on how one speaks it. "That was French." What he said doesn't really matter. Genialities. And next is German, which is a sharp edged language if ever where was one. "Can you see why I am dismayed you mistook one for the other?"
Bruce quirks a brow at the man for his apparent sarcasm. He’d say something to boost his self esteem, but it might seem odd coming from another man. He just shrugs, “Well maybe he’ll move on and find someone new to oggle. Maybe there’s a German Gay Bar here somewhere.” He ponders for a moment, “Actually I wouldn’t be surprised.” He sits down his glass and leans in to listen to Pietro demonstrate the languages. “Oh…Yeah, they sound completely different.” The expression on his face is blank, seeming to indicate that he does not actually hear much of a difference. “Um, I’ll be more careful next time.” As in, he won’t ask what language someone was speaking. “Well then I can assume you spent some time in Germany then? And also maybe France?” He looks confusedly at one of the bar patrons as another Irish Car Bomb is ordered. “I should probably learn your weird named drinks I suppose.”
That quite nearly has Pietro snerking his drink, and he lowers it quickly. Mainly because he's trying hard not to laugh. "I for one.." Trying for some dignity in the aftermath, but smiling just the same as he wipes his hand off with that napkin, "Hope he returns home." Even that blank look doesn't ruin his sudden good humor, but he does eye Bruce for it. Oh yea, he saw that one. Sigh… "I've been to nearly every country on Earth, and several other planets beside, so you could say that. Language is a hobby of mine. I speak many." Can't claim to speak most, for there are a couple hundred around the world, but he does speak a lot of them. "My weird drinks? Is gin all that strange?"
Bruce snaps his fingers. “Ah right. If he goes to Germany he’s bound to find a German Gay Bar. That really makes more sense than trying to find one here.” For the comedic subject matter of the discussion, Bruce seems to think it is a serious and good idea. He nods in agreement with himself. “Yeah that’s probably for the best. But if you’ve been all over then I suppose you’d know stuff like that.”
Bruce ponders for a moment. “Well most countries I can understand I guess. Don’t suppose you’ve gone to dear old Oz, have ya?” He is referring to Australia, but before he gets his answer he adds. “Unless that’s the ‘Other Planet’ you were talkin’ about. He apparently does not think Pietro was serious about the interplanetary travel. He shakes his head after that. “No, gin’s gin. It’s all these bombs. Jager Bombs, Irish Bombs, Snakebites…In Oz everyone drinks beer and Snakebites aren't something you want near your face."
Fingers steepled around the glass, Pietro's expression says he's not quite sure what to believe in this. Doesn't actually say what he's thinking though. The man known for having no manners actually uses them, and normally does these days. "If you're referring to over the rainbow, no. If that's slang for somewhere else, I'm afraid I don't know it." That look of his is very serious. Pietro has a sharp-edged intensity to him when he becomes so. "I'm an Avenger. Space travel is rather the norm." No private ID, so what does he care about admitting that.
A good deal of that edge fades again at the drink names, for he's smiling in spite of himself. Mercurial of mood this one. "I'm afraid I know very little of the drinks you're speaking of. I'd be inclined to agree with you." The man motions with his glass, "About snake bites." Doesn't want any either.
Bruce seems slightly confused by Pietro’s sudden seriousness. “Over the Rainbow? Na. Oz is Oz. I’m from Oz. Australia, you know, that place down on the underside of the earth?” He shakes his head, “Man I need to use less strine ‘round here.” He shrugs at the drink names. “Yeah, Yanks name their shots odd things. I guess I’ll need a book or somethin’.”
He raises an eyebrow when Pietro mentions he is an Avenger. “Oh my, didn’t know you folk came down to common bars like this one.” There is the faintest edge to his voice, but it may just be his accent. Either way, his jovial expression seems slightly hollow at the moment. “So I guess you really HAVE been to other planets then. Good on ya.” It’s not that Bruce doesn’t appreciate the Avengers for fixing major catastrophes, but he feels that they would be better off serving their own people rather than pandering to the will of the human governments.
"They have books on that." The man points out just before taking a hearty swallow. Nearly polishes off the glass with it. "You know, I've never heard of Australia called that before. I suppose I've learned something new today." For all he rolls his eyes expressively at it.
And then there's that shift in demeanor. Pietro goes from relaxed to having that edge again. Even though he honestly doesn't know as to why the change occurred. "We're not royalty." Said as he eyes Bruce across the bar. "Where else would one gain company and a drink?" He's honestly curious about all this, if a little wary. "You have trouble with the team?" He might surprise with the fact he doesn't agree about the government thing either. Pietro is a reservist for several reasons of his own.
Bruce shrugs. "Yeah We've got books here. I'll take one home and make some flash cards or something. Nothin better to do I suppose." He chuckles slightly, "Oh everybody in Oz calls Oz Oz. I guess it's not so common up here, eh?" And it seems that Pietro picked up on Bruce's change in enthusiasm.
The Australian frowns for the first time during the conversation. He is silent for a couple of moments. It seems that he is trying to decide something, but before long he shrugs and shakes his head. Might as well say what's on his mind. Pietro asked after all, and maybe Bruce has some opinions they have not heard yet. "Well it's just that…Not that you guys don't do good work." He hesitates for a moment. "But with all that MRA crap being talked about I'm just a little disappointed that y'all don't do more to…Influence public opinion. You're some of the strongest mutants in the world. Why not…Try to make things better for your own people?"
No reply about Oz being Oz. He gets it and doesn't feel the need to express an opinion about it. Especially not as a serious topic takes hold. Pietro waits with surprising patience for Bruce to think. Empties his glass and places it near the other man. No, he doesn't want another. A little shake of the head tells that. And once Bruce is done, the man thinks. Doesn't take him long to formulate an answer. "Because it's never that simple."
The tone he uses is a weary one. "And frankly, I do try to make things better for my people. The entire human race are my people, whether they have powers or not. However, this isn't quite the point I'm attempting to make. If I could stand at a podium and improve conditions with a speech, I would, but it wouldn't help. The people who need convincing wouldn't be listening, and nor would they care to. It isn't public opinion that is the problem. You're seeing only the surface. The source lays hidden from the public eye. There are also other factors, but it all boils down to the fact that I do what I can because my personal options are limited."
"Ethics, morals, and the fact that we have tried in the past to stop what was hidden, only to pay for it in blood. As well as blood not our own. I very much understand your disappointment. That frustration, but I'm not my father. I won't fight with his means. It's not who I am."
Bruce hears what Pietro has to say and seems slightly annoyed with it. In a normal setting he would probably raise his voice, but he likes this job and does not want to be seen fighting with a patron. He does radiate an aura of frustration, however. He takes the used glass and places it in the sink before mixing a few quick drinks for another guest. He holds up a finger indicating that he'll be back in a moment.
Bruce returns to speak his mind after doing his job for a few moments. "Of course speaking to the public's not going to do anything. And you know a bunch of these politicians are just fear mongering. But you have the ability to stop those who are creating the panic." He apparently does not know who Pietro is, nor does he know that he is related to Magneto. "I mean, there are people out there who are willing to do whatever it takes to pull up our kind." He shakes his head, "I know he's unpopular, but Magnetos done a lot more to help out our people than…Anyone's willing to admit." It seems as though that was not what he was originally going to say. No need to say anything that will get the Avengers mad at him. "Ah, doesn't matter. He went missing anyway. And I guess you guys aren't about to pick up where he left off."
A nod for the raised finger, and Pietro waits. As he listens a strange smile spreads. It's not all that pleasant of one. "Ah. You're one of those." And with this he pushes from the bar. "Our kind. Didn't I just state I was for human kind as a whole? I don't stand for either humans or mutants. I fight for both." A hand to the bar as he looks back, eyes intense. "We don't pick up where he left off because my father is insane. He's as much of a monster as those he claims to fight. You are entitled to your own opinion, but I suggest you learn more of the situation, for you are clearly lacking in the details. Good night." With that he turns from the bar. No need to fight not to raise your voice anymore, for he's leaving.
Bruce looks slightly annoyed with the response he is given. If he weren’t at work right now he would probably pursue Pietro to argue further with the man. Even though he has never met the man, Bruce holds Magneto’s actions and words to be solely for the benefit of mutant kind. Trying to protect the humans is a waste of time. It is probably for the best that he cannot go after Pietro, since Bruce does not want to be seen as a potential threat to a major organization like the Avengers. He takes a moment to cool down before taking a few more orders. Pietro’s words suddenly hit him after a couple of patrons and he looks back toward the door. “His father? Is his father…?” If he is the son of Magneto or not, Bruce will be watching for the silver-haired German in the future.
~ Fin ~
