2010-04-09: Idle Chatter


Angelo_icon.jpg Bruce_icon.jpg Danny_icon.jpg

Summary: Angelo goes to Nowhere to have a few drinks. He finds Danny & Bruce working there.

Log Title: Idle Chatter

Rating: PG (L)

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."


Nowhere has its usual Friday crowd this evening. Many of the seats are occupied and there is some dance music playing right now. The line at the bar is not terribly long. It seems that there are enough tenders this evening to keep things running smoothly. There is one customer who seems to be having issues ordering his drink, however. The poor patron is looking rather annoyed at the moment, trying to explain that a "Flaming Dr. Pepper" is in fact NOT just a glass of Dr. Pepper that has been set ablaze.
The bartender in question looks rather annoyed himself. He's wearing blue jeans and a brown tank top with an Australian hat. "Look, if you dont want a flaming soda, why'd you ask for one?" Bruce is frowning at the glass in front of him. "I mean, I don't think you actually can catch the Dr. Pepper on fire. And even if I could it's a bit bigger than the flaming shots I usually make. Manager might frown if I burn down the bar."

Angelo diLucci watches the Aussie bartender with a bit of bemusement, trying to figure out if he's a fill-in or a real bartender, maybe someone who just hasn't studied the drink book here. (Mind you with more than 20000 cocktails in the world, he'd probably not want to dig through that himself, but that's what a recipe book is about, right?)

Hearing his fellow bartending having some problems, Danny approaches the Aussie and smiles. "Ah got this one." He says smiling at Bruce. They might not have formally met, but Danny's been working here for quite some time. He's dressed in a pair of jeans, a button down shirt and a cowboy hat, which matches his Southern accent but not his Asian look. "Y'all can't, ya gotta use the 151, that's the trick in flaming drinks." Danny says filling a shot glass with ammaretto and 151 before putting it in another glass and filling it with some beer before lighting it on fire. "Tweleve dollars." He tells the patron as he slides the glass over. "Ya can get Angelo here." He says to Bruce as he recognizes the not-Doctor doctor.

Bruce watches as Danny makes the shot and frowns. “Why do you Yanks name your drinks such funny things around here? That doesn’t even HAVE Dr. Peps in it.” He shakes his head and sighs. “Anyway, Mr ah, Angela? What can I get ya?” He looks down at the glass of Dr. Pepper he had poured for the previous patron. “I don’t suppose I can interest you in something mixed with Peps, can I?” Assuming that he will want something different, he pushes the glass aside to prepare to make the next drink.

Angelo waves at Danny, "Hey, Cowboy," and steps up to the bar.
"Pint a' Guinness, ey buddy?" Some sort of Bronx accent to the deep voice from this short, wall of a guy; he's wearing the standard "jock out at night" attire of a red microfiber tee, a half-zipped hoodie under an outsized sleeveless jeans-vest, and black denim jeans that have to be tailored to fit.
"Name's Angel-OH, by tha way. Ain't had a sex change in weeks."
He plonks down the ten for the drink and tip already knowing the usual price, then steps to the side, figuring there might be someone behind him, and knowing that waiting for a pint of the good stuff to settle down is as much an art as pulling it proper.

"So how's things goin' for ya Angelo? Ah can't seem tah get away from ya at either job." Danny jokes as he looks at Bruce. "One of the tricks is this great iPhone app Ah got, it has a list of drinks so if Ah don't know what someone it talkin' 'bout Ah can look it up." He says holding out his iPhone as he takes the next customer's order and starts to mix a vodka and red bull for them. "And Ah ain't a Yankee, Ah was born in Virginia."

Bruce turns around and drafts up a Guinness for Angelo, pushing it to him. “If there’s anything I know, it’s beer.” He nods, “Ah, Angelo, right. I thought that was a bit of a strange name for a bloke.” He glances over at Danny’s phone and leans in, stroking his chin. “Oh I don’t know if I could figure out something like…That.” He chuckles “I’ll stick with books and…Well if you’re from the US you’re a Yank. I didn’t write the rule, it’s just that way.” The next customer also wants a beer, easy enough for Bruce. And now it seems the line has died down. He has a few minutes for idle chatter. He asks Angelo, “So you know me coworker here?”

Ange laughs, "You tryin' ta get away from me? Aw, that hurts Cowboy. I been comin' here ta meet up wit' my med-school buddy Doc but he ain't here tonight, I think he mighta found a girl for the night."
Ange grins in huge amusement at the way the so-professional Dr. Williams goes all "smooooth" when he's away from the medical side of his life.
"So who's the new guy?" And then he actually says hello, which means there must be a few minutes of quiet for conversation. "Yeah, we live in the same building. So, new guy, you likin' this place??"

"Angelo and Ah know each other." Danny was gonna say he knew him from his other job but living in the same building works for him as well. "Well down South, ya ain't a Yankee unless ya live up north." He says as one of his regular customers steps up. "Just a sec." He says as he starts to mix a drink for the gentlemen before even asking what he wants. Yeah there's a little obvious flirting going on but Danny's a flirt. Once done he turns back to Bruce and Angelo. "Ah don't know if Ah ever met this Doc frienda yers."

Bruce takes a moment to pour a vodka-sprite and turns back to Angelo. “Eh? Ah ye live together, eh? You ‘round this spot here? I know there’s a bunch of us in the area, it being Mutant Town an’ all.” He shrugs and nods to Angelo “Yeah, actually came to the US because I heard about this part of the city. And the bar gives me a place to meet others like me, so…Yeah it’s a great place to work.” He chuckles and leans a hand on the bar. “Hey, if yer only a Yank if yer from the North, what’s a Yank from the South called?”

Angelo grins again trying to describe Doc. His hands flail a bit indicating someone about average height, and average build. "Just a normal guy about yeah, and maybe a little underfed-lookin'. He's two years older but looks hella younger'n I do, has that almost-long-hair blonde puppy-dog-look goin', looks more like a TV doctor than a real one, ya know? An' I think it's the difference between bein' a yank an' a yankee, Dan. Outside the country we're either yanks or gringos, even a southern boy like you 'd be a Southern Yank. It's like this guy here would be called Bruce anywhere in England on account of havin' that Aussie accent."

"Well….Ah ain't a mutant. Ah got powers an' all but Ah ain't a mutant. Not like Nik." Whose the owner of the place, Danny just likes working around super powered folks and he lived in the neighborhood for a bit. "Southern Yank just sounds like…well Ah ain't saying what it sounds like." He says laughing as he takes his hat off to push his hair back. "Angleo and Ah live in a place not to far from Downtown."

Bruce ponders for a moment as Angelo describes this 'Doc' person. "Well that sounds like four or five people I've seen just tonight. Maybe he was already here? Or…I don't know." He chuckles "And yeah, I'd be Bruce in any country because that's me name. Bruce Jumbuck." He offers a tip of his hat and finally dumps out that Dr. Pepper. "A Southern Yank sounds like a what?" He thinks about it for a minute before slapping his hand on the counter and letting out a loud laugh. "Oh Ripper! Well maybe you don't mind settling for plain old Yank then, eh?"

The image of what "southern yank" might mean just makes Ange snort, and he picks up his pint, finally settled, and takes a long draught. "Not a mutant either, sorry to say," Ange nods. "I always wanted ta have somethin' cool like wings or speed or telekinesis, but hey, I didn't win the lottery."
He doesn't mention having powers either, but he doesn't deny having them.

Danny doesn't mind announcing he has powers but he doesn't say what they are. Bruce's words make Danny chuckle and he doesn't say yes or no, he just goes on to help the next customer with their order, an easy bottle of Corona. "Ah don't think anyone gets what they wish for in the power department, or even expects to get anything in that power department."

Bruce seems a little confused when both of them state that they are not mutants. “Wait a sec, if yer not mutants why’re you hangin’ around in Mutant Town?” He ponders for a moment, “And who has powers other than mutants? Other than them aliens er whatever. Yer not an Alien are ya?” He leans in and examines Danny a bit closer, perhaps looking for antennae or a tail. “I don’t know about that.” He doesn’t explain what he means by that, he just shrugs and gets a pink haired girl a beer. “I don’t know, I kind of think people’s powers kind of suit them well enough for their needs.” He doesn’t say what he can do, nor does he explain why he believes what he does.

"Lots of people have powers, Bruce. You ever heard of the Fantastic Four?" Angelo says, "And I hang around Mutant Town cause I was livin' here before it was Mutant Town, and cause I like the people who live here. Why does it matter anyway? People are people," and he sips another draught.
"Afraid as a physician I gotta disagree with ya about powers suiting, at least, for mutants. Some of 'em ain't what ya'd call survival-prone changes."
Angelo's voice and accent change from "street jock" to his more quiet, professional accent, the one he uses as a doctor. "I knew a girl whose mutant power was that her skin could turn into a foul-smelling gas when she was angry. Couldn't turn back. She was a sweet girl but after a while it was not good. We could put on anti-bacterials, give her painkillers, but it wouldn't stop. She took an overdose one day, she left a note that she couldn't stand the idea that this was what her life would be like."

"Ironman, Captain America, Ant-Man, Spider-Woman, those are all people who ain't mutants. Ah'm hangin' 'round here cause even though Ah ain't a mutant, Ah do got powers. And no, Ah ain't an alien. A…had an incident when Ah was younger." Danny says with a shrug as he drinks from a bottle of water. At Angelo's story Danny just winces. "That sounds quite horrible."

Bruce backs up slightly and holds up his hands. “Easy easy, not tryin’ to say you ain’t welcome. Just most people seem ascared of us is all.” He shrugs at the mention of the heroes. “Actually I kind of assumed they were all mutants…Which I guess now they ain’t. But still, if the MRA were passed you can bet they’d be classified the same, eh?” He frowns at Angelo, deciding not to say anything in response to his story since his response may make him sound slightly like a heartless monster. Instead he turns to Danny, “So you got powers from something other than a genetic mutation, eh? How’s that work?” A way to produce individuals with powers? That could be useful.

Yeah, that was a major downer even remembering that, and Angelo falls silent and listens. He's not going to argue the MRA question; his personal view is that it's incredibly stupid, and that the fearmongers have far too much power.
"Another Guinness when you get the chance, please?"
Ange drains the last of this one.

Danny is here to work and have a good time, not to get into some political question about mutations. He goes to fill Angelo another pint of Guinness. "Ah this is gonna sound might strange but Ah got mah powers from a rock from space. It came crashin' tah earth years back, and then Ah got powers." Long story very short. "Here ya go Angelo." And there is a little happy face in the foam for him. Danny couldn't resist.

Bruce moves to get a second beer for Ange, but he notices that Danny is already getting it for him. He takes another order for three Irish Car Bombs. “Ah, I know that one now.!” He preps them up and sends the patron on his way. “I wonder what they call those in Ireland…Anyway.” He looks back to Danny, “So a rock eh? Like…Maybe there’s something in it that can alter someone’s internals? Maybe a science bloke should take a look at it. You still have that rock or is it like a meteor or something?”

Ange smiles just a little at Danny, for being on the spot, and waits while the pint settles. He notices the happy face in the foam and it breaks him out of the funk. "I think they don't call them that, Bruce. If they even drink them at all, they'd call 'em something, I dunno, a Shamrock Bomb maybe. But what Irishman would think of mixing the three together? It would be a sacrilege to the purity of the poteen."
His eyes light up for a second, the only thing that shows with this much gear on, just long enough to make him sober again. Dammit. Stupid ink with a mind of its own sometimes.

Danny notices the glow as he's seen it before. "Nah, Ah ain't got the rock, was confiscated by some group and checked out. Ah never found out anything after that." Danny doesn't know but SHIELD were the ones that confiscated it. "Well Ah got mah first break. Nice seeing ya Angelo, and Bruce, Ah'll catch ya in a bit." Danny says as he looks around the bar before stepping out. He plans on running out for a coffee on his short half hour break.

Bruce looks a little disappointed when he hears that the rock is gone, but he supposes it was unlikely that it would still be lying around someplace. He waves a goodbye to Danny. “Right-o, mate. I’ll hold down the billabong ‘till ya get back.” He catches the glow out of the corner of his eye and turns to look at Ange. He shakes his head and blinks a few times assuming it was just him seeing things. “Er yeah, never heard of the drink meself until I came here. Maybe I’ll try it some day.” This is said in reference to the Irish Car Bomb.

Angelo waves to Danny turning it into a bit of a salute, then looks back to Bruce and shrugs.
"It seems like a fast way to get hammered, too, and to get the queen mother of hangovers, but I'm kinda immune to bein' drunk now, and I don't even LIKE gettin' drunk any more, since my last birthday. So, what do you do when you ain't servin' brain death to the willing masses, Bruce?"

Bruce takes a moment to towel out a few recently washed glasses. He shakes his head and makes a clucking noise. “Oh that’s too bad, mate. Don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t get rotten.” He smirks, “And hangovers are for amateurs. You just need to know how to drink and how to prepare for morning.” He stops drying for a minute and looks at Angelo shadily. He suspects the answer “Looking for Magneto and plotting for the time when mutants take their rightful place in the world” might not be the best answer. He settles for a shrug and “Oh ya know. I work out a lot. Take the dog jogging, drink, watch the telly. Nothing too exciting.”

"I'm a total grind any more," Angelo shrugs. "Job has me working 12 hour days, I train, I take defense classes, I go help my mom deal with having a house, I fend off her trying to set me up with every pretty girl she sees, and then fend off her trying to set me up with the boy next door… all of which takes maybe three hours every Sunday. What kinda dog you got?"

Bruce chuckles slightly and begins lining up the cleaned glasses. “Ah see, that’s the advantage to having yer mum two hemispheres away. Don’t really gotto deal with that sort o’ stuff.” He prepares a couple more drinks and argues briefly with a drunk patron that Bruce has decided has had one too many. He returns to Angelo and sighs. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’m responsible if he dies I think. Anyway what did you ask? Me dog? He’s a shepherd mix. Couple years old. Adopted him when I moved out here. He’s a rescue, so he’s got a bit of an anxiety problem, but he’s a good dog nonetheless.”

Angelo looks over at the drunk guy. "No worries," he says, and walks over behind the drunk guy, touching him on the shoulder as he lurches a bit drunkenly.
"Hey, buddy, careful, the floors a bit unsteady there."
If Bruce is watching he'll definitely see the momentary flare as wings made from filigrees of pure light spring out from Ange's shoulders, and the hint of light coming from under his hat, and at his wrists. But it's only for a count of two seconds, and the guy is suddenly looking a LOT more sober. Not completely, though. Angelo wasn't that cruel.

Bruce holds out a hand when Angelo stands up. “Oh no, mate. Don’t go startin’ no rows in th’ bar, please.” He assumes the other patron will attack him in a cranky fashion, but then he sees the light and the wings and notices the change in the patron’s demeanor. “Well Um…That’s a handy trick.” The formerly drunk man looks really confused and wanders back to his table, apparently still thinking he will be refused a drink. “I can only…Well I can’t do that.”

Angelo nods. "Not many people can. It's pretty useful at wedding parties too, when the mother-in-law gets drunk and starts to hit on the best man."
Which apparently happened at some recent wedding that Angelo attended, or why would he say such things.
Angelo half-smiles at Bruce. "I'd ask you what your power is, but that would be a little "harry potter gradeschool" wouldn't it?"

Bruce chuckles. “Yeah, I can imagine you could probably fix a few thorny situations.” He mixes a few more drinks and flips on the “Last Call” sign. He shakes his head at Angelo, “Nah, don’t mind it. My power’s not very exciting though. Nothing anyone’s be too interested. Certainly no good for weddings.” He points to Angelo’s glass, “Want that topped off before it’s too late?” THere are already a few folks lining up for final drinks.

"That's a great word," Angelo says, and downs the remains of the second Guinness. Of course Last Call will cause a bit of a rush on the bar, but that's the drawback of turning on that sign.
Angelo decides to respect that Bruce doesn't actually SAY what that power is.

Bruce does indeed have quite a line forming. He mixes up the drinks as fast as they come in, hesitating a few times at ones with odd names, but luckily the patrons all know the recipes to their desired beverages. He manages a little idle chatter between orders. “Well with a power like that you must be awful popular at the hospital. You probably get paid more than the other docs, eh?”

"Not so much," Angelo answers. "Not a full doctor yet. Working on that," and he waits for another few, then again later. "So, what's the weirdest drink they've asked you for, so far? I think there's been an unofficial stump the bartender contest going."

Bruce gets a temporary lull and gives Angelo a confused look. “Really? If I were a hospital and knew someone who could fix a drunk I’d probably pay ‘em a bit more.” He handles a few more orders and chuckles at Angelo’s question. “Well some guy came up to me tonight and asked for a “Blow Job”. That made for an interesting conversation. Apparently that’s a shot over here.” He shakes his head “And I wouldn’t doubt it. ‘Hey! Let’s go mess with the Aussey Bartender!’” He sighs and shakes his head again.

Angelo almost does the wrong thing with his carefully-nursed third glass. The wrong thing being breathing it or blowing it out his nose instead of swallowing.
"Wait, they wasted the opportunity on the drink?" Angelo says, "which kind did they want? The banana flavored or the vodka and sprite? And did you make 'em drink it with their hands behind their back? That's half the fun."

Bruce tries to remember. “It was the banana one I reckon. You know I get so many odd requests nowadays.” He shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t they use their hands? I mean, you use yer hands when…Never mind. Anyway, I get a lot of drink requests that have blatantly sexual names. I suspect they were named as such so the customers can all hit on the bartender…Or make him real uncomfortable.”

"Yeah, as if they need a reason to hit on the bartender," Angelo scoffs. "Anyway, I better get going. Got a shift coming up. Maybe I'll see you here another time and ask for rude mixed drinks, OK?"
Although he doesn't seem entirely serious about that latter, since he's winking.

Bruce nods. “Alrighty, have fun at work, eh?” He’s preparing drinks for the last of the line now. “Yeah maybe you should try that with Danny. Seems I get all the rude drinks. It’d be nice to see him get one or two of ‘em.” He shrugs. “Anyway, yeah see ya around. Stop by whenever, I’m usually working.” He goes back to the line. Once he’s done with this he still gets to clean up.

Angelo drains the last bit of his Guiness and puts the glass back down.
"Yeah, well, I couldn't flirt with Danny, he's too easy, no challenge. Besides, he's a neighbor, ya know?"
And with that he's out the door while the last drink is being mixed and possibly before the new guy can parse that.

~ Fin ~

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