Right Then, Onto Pizza

July 24, 2014: Having given 'Raggedy Andy' and his goons a proper smackdown, three of the unusual heroic sorts decide to get some food. Because pizza.

Some pizza joint in NYC

They serve really awesome pizza.



Mood Music:

It pulled..to the right… "Really?" the blue girl says with three-fingered hands falling upon her hips. "That's hardly an excuse and you know it, buster." Then there's the gal with the shotgun, where'd that even come from? "Have you people no faith in your butt-kickery skills?" Talia asks with a sigh. At least no one had been killed, right?

Hey, pizza!

Moments later, at a pizzaria… (Which is full of people giving the newly arrived group a bunch of odd looks.)

"Leave some extra for blondie here, he's looking a little anorexic," TJ suggests while motioning toward Alexander. "So hey, is this the obligatory 'post-heroic sharing of names' moment? It totally feels like that moment."


Perhaps at another time Alexander would be inclined to argue against Talia's declaration, but if it nets him more pizza he is inclined to remain mum. So it's as he extracts the slice of pizza, looking on it admiringly with those gleaming red eyes that he announces his opinion casually enough, "Names are transient. Stories are forever."

The young blonde man considers the slice, cheese glooping off of it greasily. He is terribly beautiful in a classical sort of way, almost as if he should be trapped in a frame amongst images created with oiled paint on canvas. He turns those glowing eyes on Talia, and if those eyes spoke of something akin to the devil, it was his smile that cost others their soul. "You asked, so the initial sharing is yours."

Then, as easy as that he /chomps/ on that pizza dismissing any hint of beauty or etherealness for down home gluttony.


Wait. Does that mean she looks big? Lunair looks uncertain. She just doesn't argue about the shooting. Lunair's expression is oddly blank and neutral when she's not actively trying to show emotion or not generally engaged. "… I'm squishy and I don't have hand to hand powers. Besides, I was mostly using the staff," She offers helpfully.

But either way, Lunair seems happy to dismiss her weapons (everything vanishes - she's a forensic NIGHTMARE) and tag along. She will happily chip in for pizza and listens more than she speaks. She looks like the sort of person who exists on the fringes, a quiet predator. But she's cheerful enough now that she's being social and smiles. "I - wait. What happens if I contradict you?" She peers at Alex, uncertain. She is well mannered when it comes to eating, allowing time for a prayer if someone wishes. Else she quietly digs in. "And I guess. Is it like that Greek thing where you become immortal by doing something people remember? Because some people would end up having the worst stories…" She contemplates this. Nomf. Lunair seems oddly unruffled by either of their appearance, which must seem odd in and of itself. She accepts it all, as it is. "Like, it would suck to be forever remembered as the guy who got hit by a sewage truck or something."


"Okaaay, you're the token stoic gothling of the group," Talia replies to Alexander. Physical traits may all be in order for the guy but there's a notable lack of personality spark to accompany it, skewing the overall results. To her, anyway.

"Or the Coyote would be 'here lies Anvilface," she offers with a small grin. Looking to Lunair, she also adds "I have no idea what yours would be" with a slight squinting of the eyes. 'Makes weapons disappear?' But what about the -appearing- part? It just doesn't flow!

"So, uh…" Names. Well..it's easier for her to forgo the secret identity thing on count of how obvious she is, though it also helps that she didn't originate from this reality to begin with. "Talia. Or TJ. Or Nocturne," she ticks off with chunky fingers. Three names, three fingers. It's almost as if she planned the whole thing to work out that way! "General do-gooder sort and friendly indigo rivethead."


Waving a hand to the side idly, Alexander brushes past Nocturne's words and continues to devour his piece of pizza. Then, perhaps even to alienate his teammates more… he tosses away the crust right back onto the pan. Another slice is claimed. But before he starts the munching cycle anew he offers a few words of his own.

"Alexander Aaron," There's a pause as he crinkles his nose somewhat and then adds, "Phobos." As if it didn't sit entirely well with him.


Lunair contemplates that, seeming amused. He's so goth he farts bats? Hmmm. She smiles at Talia's words. "It's a bit hard to explain," She offers. "I create weapons and armor. So I dismiss them, too. But I'm squishy. And people get mad when I -" Pause. "Hey, pizza." Distraction tactic. ACTIVATE! She doesn't seem ruffled by Alexander's attempts at alienation. Or maybe she doesn't notice. It's hard to say, ultimately.

Names. Yup. "My name is Lunair Weir. I have a codename. It's Armory. It feels strange," She admits. "And rivethead?" She looks puzzled. She pauses at Alexander. "You are not big enough to be a /moon/," She states simply. She knows astronomy, at least. Or maybe she's teasing him lightly. But she doesn't push it, accepting him simply. And Talia, too. She's just that way. "Do you prefer Alexander or Alex?" She asks. She looks between the two, trying to divide her attention fairly. She's like a ferret in a slinky factory.


"'Fear,' huh. That seems oddly appropriate," Talia finishes with a soft but not -too- soft mutter. With the tossed crust she speaks up again, "For a hundred bonus points does anyone know the Greek word for 'manners?' Because those are pretty frightening. Seriously dude, I've met Brillo pads that are less abrasive than you."

"As in a walking Armory? That rather does what it says on the tin," she thinks with an easy-mannered smirk. "So..wait. Both of you look like you might be a little uncertain about your fun names. Is this a trend around here? I suppose it's only a matter of time before all of the good ones are taken," she considers while scooping out a slice with the spade tip of her tail. Yes, it's clean.


"Alex," He says easily enough, then proceeds to give a half smile Lunair's way, A small shrug as given as he takes another bite of his other piece of pizza, chewing for a time, swallowing, continuing. "Alexander if I'm being so terribly arrogant and trying to browbeat you."

But then Talia makes her comment about Brillo pads and continues on her offering of her thoughts about codenames. The young man cants his head to the side quizzically and states, "For an exile from Svartalfheim you are remarkably socialized to comment on another's pizza ettiquette." He lifts his brows lightly, "Were you born in this realm or are you just remarkably adaptable?"


Lunair listens more than she speaks. "I only know a bit about Greek art," She admits. "And talking Brillo pads?" This seems to surprise Lunair. She seems amused. "And yeah. I didn't really have one before. I was more a soldier than a hero," She admits. She shrugs at this. She pauses. "I'm not sad about the name. Although, yeah, a lot of 'em are taken. It's just strange and new," Fingerwriggle.

"And that's really cool." A tail is cool. Lunair smiles back to Alex. "Alex," She nods. She listens again, pausing. "Svartalheim?" Lunair seems to be the confused one.


"Oh, they can have a lot to say," Talia tells Lunair with a silly grin. "Especially after being introduced to a greasy pan. Huh, a soldier?"

"Svartawhatnow..? Heeey," she quickly counters with a look of disapproval. Clever though, she'll give Alex credit for something a lot more inventive than the whole 'Smurf' thing. Though the fun part here is that half of what he says is still true. "Dark elves, har har. Since you mention it, I wasn't. Though I have gotten to be pretty darned adaptable after the first dozen reality jumps or so. I was a former funding member of another ragtag group called, oddly enough, the Exiles. Technically I don't belong here at all. Kinda like how your leftovers don't belong on the primary serving apparatus," she notes with a dip of her chin toward that errant pre-gnawed crust.

Turning her attention back to Lunair with a curious glint in her solid-hued eyes, she asks "So a soldier? Were you some sort of secret government weapons program?" Because that would be pretty cool.


The wry smile that's on Alexander's lips almost matches the gleam in those glowing eyes. He then leans forwards and perhaps as a concilliatory gesture towards Talia he picks up the first crust. Then he picks up the second crust and lightly deposits them on his own personal smaller plate. Though now he takes a bite of one of them and crunches it a few times as he chews.

Eventually he murmurs to her with that same smile, "Consider me duly chastened." Another crunching bite is taken of the crust, as if to add proper punctuation to his statement.

His gaze shifts to Lunair as he says, "You mentioned you had a lack in your hand to hand skills, I am sure you could find some willing to aid you, if you were so inclined."


Lunair smiles back. "Really? And sort of," She nods. She has to keep up with their conversation a moment, pausing. "Exiles. That seems familiar somehow," Lunair admits. Like she'd run into someone from them. She furrows her brows. And she pauses. "More a medical experiment gone awry," She seems more quiet talking about her past. "But I suppose when life gives you weapons powers…" She waves a hand.

She seems amused by their exchange. She peers back to Alex. "Huh? Oh… yeah. I guess. I just feel really awkward doing it. Maybe I depend on weapons too much," She considers it. "But it would be interesting. Maybe I'll try it." Boot to the head! "How about you two? What do you enjoy?" An odd question.


As the pieces of crust are reclaimed Talia grins across the table to Alex. "Thank you." There's zero malice from her end, no hard feelings. "You're pretty alright, Kid Fear. Totally dig the eyes."

Medical experimennnnt..right, moving on now. "You make weapon-ade?" she adds with a tone and expression that's almost hopeful. "Could you make shocky-zappy things? Don't have to be the world's best fighter to tase somebody," she suggests. "If..you're trying to not kill them, that is." Really, she doesn't yet know where these two stand on that whole 'non-lethal engagement' subject.

What do they enjoy? "Music," she easily replies with a dip of the head. "Goes back to that whole 'rivethead' thing. Harsh synthetic industrial sorta stuff. I handle most of the vocals and some other assorted work for Azure Decline, we tend to hit smaller clubs between here and Metropolis. We just finished a gig at Sparky's earlier tonight." Which would probably explain the leather and spikes adorning her.


Lunair watches Alex go, and waves after him. She seems amused by the exchange. She looks to Talia, "Weapon-ade? Sure. Dubstep guns, zappy things, blamethrowers… if I can think of it, I can likely pull it up," She admits. She goes quiet. "Well. I don't mind killing. But I'm told that's not really healthy, and it does upset people. I don't - always. I try not to. Mostly." She tries. She really does try.

She smiles as talk turns to stuff people enjoy. "I see." Lunair nods. "That's pretty cool," A performer! "Performing must be pretty intense?" She doesn't have a freaking clue. "And he got away before he had to answer. Next time, Gadget." She is a bit wry about it. "Is that what rivethead means? A fan of a particular kind of music?" She lived under a rock. Almost literally. Almost.


Talia's expression bottoms out with an almost audible -thud.- "I'm one of them," she admits in regards to not killing others.

"It's one of those goofy underground names. The music, the post-apocalyptic appearance, that sort of thing. It can get pretty intense, especially with how we play it. I don't have to worry about anyone asking for my number after a show, even if I told 'em they'd be too drunk or deaf to catch it. Often both." Nod. "Speaking of, the rest of the band's probably all passed out by now. They always take the best spots, the prudes," she jokes. "This is turning out to be a much later night than I had counted on, I should go and reconverge with the crew. Good luck out there, Lunair!"


"That's okay. I'll do my best to remember that," Lunair half-smiles. "I've grown up otherwise, but… I'll try. And oh?" She seems amused. "That's great. And yeah, I should go get back. It was a pleasure to meet you. Be well and stay safe. And um, find a good resting spot?" She offers, uncertainly. "Yes." wave.


"Usually one of their apartments, or the van," TJ admits with a scrunched up expression. She leaves some cash on the table and grabs another slice to go though before fully departing from the table she turns back to give Lunair The Look.

"And no more killing people."

She just had to get that out of her system.


Lunair nods. "No hotels or anything?" She seems surprised. "Huh." She ponders this. At the Look, Lunair winces. "Yours is like Calvin's." Guilt +5! Owch! "It's - yeah." She nods. "Be well." She waves. She doesn't seem to push one way or another. But she will finish her food and look thoughtful.

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