January 10, 2015: Somewhere, in a Gotham safehouse… (Language.)

One of Domino's Gotham safehouses

Maybe it was an old warehouse at some point or another. Right now it's got the bare essentials. And whiskey. Lots and lots of whiskey.



  • Curly the Bamf

Mood Music:

A soft click rings out from the hard concrete floor as the cap of an empty bottle falls off of the table, rolling toward the subtle depression of a drain.

"Bamf," comes the hazy, squeaky voice of a furry blue demon-like creature clocking in at about one foot in height and a much more vast quantity of annoying.

"I'd say something like 'you can say that again' but you've already said it like eight hundred times," the patch-eyed albino woman sitting at the other end of the folding table points out, hooking the top of the open bottle of whiskey in her hand at the smaller creature. "I don't get it, can 'bamf' translate to an entire language to you guys?"

"Bamf," he says with a slight shrug. *Hic!*

"You all look the same. You all -sound- the same. There's no variation in the word beyond normal, pissed, and 'oh shit it's coming right for me.'"

"Bamf bamf."

"Yeah..that," Domino says while pointing at the creature from around her bottle.

As if operating on a hive mind they both take this moment to slam back another drink.

Curly the Bamf is already tipsy enough that when his bottle goes up he lands rump-first on the table with a tiny squeak, his tail thwapping another empty bottle and sending it to the floor with a crash.


"I'll just bet you meant to do that," she remarks with a sneer. "I still have no idea what the hell you just said but it's easier when I think I understand you."

Curly pushes the bottle aside then makes a rude gesture in her direction. "-Bamf.-"

"Hey, don't drink angry," she counters with a showing of her own hands. "We were havin' real a moment here."

She takes another drink.

Curly follows suit.

"Alright, I've got one." Dom sets the bottle down but never takes her ghostly white hand off of the glass, leaning forward as she stares at tiny, glowing yellow eyes.

"What's it like to teleport drunk?"

"Bamf..bamfbamf," Curly starts to explain, complete with hand motions involving disappearing, reappearing, striking a wall, then falling flat onto his back.

"So kinda like trying to pull a Spider-Man with a grappel line while hammered," she thinks aloud with a subtle nodding of her head.

Curly nods once. "Bamf."


Domino holds up her bottle, swirling the amber fluid around as she looks from it back to the smaller creature. "And if I'm not mistaken..this means that I've beat you by one."

Curly folds his arms together and just stares back at her, as if to say 'give me a break, you're eight times my size!'

"Hey," she says as a grin slowly crosses blackened lips. "Think fast."

A different cap is flicked away from a black painted fingernail, darting across the table toward the blue guy's chest. He turns to catch it just in time to lose his balance and fall backward off of the table, almost immediately disappearing in a puff of rank-smelling magenta smoke.

He reappears right on top of Domino's head, bouncing the cap off of her hair.

She's too busy laughing to care, resting her forehead on her arm and cackling like it's the most hilarious thing in the world.

Curly takes the moment to hop down onto the table, making his way back to the other side. "Bamf..bamf?"

"Arm still feels like shit," she admits while lifting her head back up and wiping the tears from her eyes. "Could be worse but it's not worth cutting into someone just to drink their damn blood. Or whatever that shit was that attempted to pass for blood."

She pauses to take another drink but Curly sits down and looks back at her, expression quizzical, head canted to one side. He almost looks cross-eyed.

"Right?" she replies while sliding the bottle partway across the table. "I've had some pretty fucked up drinks but a girl's gotta draw a line -somewhere.-" She pauses and stares off into space, sloooowly blinking once. "I am so wasted."

"Bamf," Curly softly agrees with a slow nod.

"You're not exactly fit to be driving yourself there, Blueberry."

This time Curly responds not with a 'bamf?' but with another *Hic!*

"Just don't tell your big brother that we're doin' this. He might say I'm a bad influence, or something. elf," she mutters with a frown. It takes a few seconds for her own words to sink in before one hand comes up to dully slap across her face, slowly dragging downward. "That's..really the best I can come up with right now? Goddammit."

Curly flashes a big, toothy grin, complete with a few pointed canines. "Bamf!"

"Shut up and keep drinking, right," Domino drawls. "It ain't happy hour 'til the walls start bleedin.' Cheers, ya indigo runt."

The two clink bottles together and take another long drink.


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