Mixed Bag (Playhouse)

"Psssh, lucky. Wish I could take my hat off, this thing catches on doors," Wicked joked when Gambler removed his hat. She stirred her own drink into creation as Fancy Pants spoke up with his own concerns, asking for a can of pop of all things. Like... you could get that anywhere. This was a bar, the place where they mixed drinks at? Literally anything could be yours and you get a can of pop. Seriously dude?
"Whatever. He's all yours," the witch acquiesced with a gesture. But she'd reassure him to.
"Some stuck-up bitch got her teeth knocked in but we like didn't kill anyone if that's what you're asking. She sorta had it coming anyway, you should've heard'er talk all the shit she had to talk, she thought she was better than God. If I got one regret it's not pistol-whipping that chick when I had the chance."

The lanky terrorist coolly sipped her drink and flicked her ashes into her empty beer bottle as she listened to Gambler talk about how mixing drinks was hard as if it actually was. She openly rolled her eyes hard but didn't say what she really wanted to say, opting for another light-hearted comment instead to avoid starting a fight.
"Ha ha, I guess that makes me Fireball! Smooth as silk and it'll fuck you up, yo!" she chirped to the drink analogy with fake enthusiasm. The witch tended to her drink as Tux spoke some more, quietly listening. His heart was in the right place but... she didn't think he was doing things the right way. But it wasn't her place to say even if he talked about it, whatever she said he wasn't gonna fuckin' listen anyway and she had no stake in it. He could go down the path he chose and she'd go down hers, no hard feelings but they wouldn't be exactly the same. Wicked didn't need anyone to tell her what was right, she knew that herself and while their goals aligned the other night they weren't coming from the same place and they sure as shit wouldn't of ended up the same either. Patty just wanted to knock a bitch to the floor, she had no agenda outside of that. The broadcast was just for funzies. When his drinks came out she set hers aside for after she finished her Cherry Bitch.

The shorter girls continued to badger Ruben though, telling him how scary it was and how easily he could die. Whoo, watch out! Like he didn't know that already, as far as she knew everyone went through the Divide and all the terrorists did it a second time to get their powers.
"Your recruitment tactics suck," she mocked. Like, they did though. You weren't supposed to scare off the new people, it was counterproductive to what you wanted to do. Wicked instead looked Ruben in the eye and showed him a little more of a welcoming attitude.
"You'll be fine, okay? You're in good hands. Just try your best and work on the rest, sound good?" She wasn't about to tell him what he should do but if he was dead set on the Playhouse gang more power to him but she'd keep her options open for now. After all, this wasn't her show.

Cowgirl drained her beer, motioned for another and Wicked obliged. It was kinda fun playing bartender, she could really get herself into the mindset of some surly-but-wise piece of shit that hated everything and loved everything at the same time.
"Soooooo.... you don't have the deets?" she echoed while practicing her perfect pour. She slid the beer over and put her hands on the counter.
"Sorry but if you don't know, you can't come. This isn't exactly my idea even if I really agree with it, na'mean? Besides, this is something really sensitive and if there doesn't HAVE to be a fight there won't be one but this CANNOT go bad or it's gonna fuck me over hard. I'm not really enjoying the idea of hiking it all the way there dressed for Halloween either, like, that's a good way to get caught and I'm sure as hell not going to just give up my face just because you're cool. This the one thing I got, yo, it's really all anyone here has other than crazy mind bullets and I'm not an idiot," she explained. There were a few different reasons why this was bad but the pills thing she needed to take seriously or it was gonna bite her in the ass sooner rather than later.

OOC:

Wicked sipped on her drink, having nearly finished it before taking a puff of her cigarette and speaking further.
"Alright with me, as long as it's not tonight and as long as it's here. This is gonna take a while and like we HAVE no other neutral ground. But this place is cool so I'm not too upset. It's even got it's sound system back, hahahaaa!" she laughed, considering the other night she thought someone made off with it. And maybe they did but it was back so fuck it, right?

He wasn't sure what he expected going into a den of terrorists. The entire thing was... Bizarre, and if he didn't know any better, he would have thought someone had slipped him some drugs. Wait, he wasn't drugged right? The strange crowd of a witch, giant, magician, all drinking and saying things he didn't understand. If he had expected violence and threats, then it was not... Quite like that. If he expected a group that acted like a family, however, it was also far from that, with two of them acting in a way that caused the new terrorist to gulp. Were these guys as much of a band of killers as the media portrayed them as? They weren't denying that there wasn't murder victims, and one even suggested that if he wasn't up for it, he should leave...

Surprisingly, the one he least expected to be respectful, was. It really highlighted to him how it was bad to judge on appearances and attitudes, reminding him of that thug that threatened him off from before. Perhaps next time he would have to try... Be more open? Probably?

Still, the news that nobody died caused him to audibly let out an exhale of relief. The drink given by the magician, and then the requested drink by the witch caused conflicting reactions however, as he had no idea which to take - would it be inappropriate to just want his can? Would it be rude to take the cocktail when the witch had given him the can? Not knowing what to do, and somewhat panicking slightly at the risk of losing valuable face in such an uncomfortable time, the boy took the can, opened it, and poured it into the cocktail as he began drinking to ensure it didn't overflow.

Was it a good idea? Absolutely not. Did it taste good?...

Absolutely not.

Still, like an absolute champion, Ribbon drank the concoction down, before setting both the drink and the can down on the counter, gasping for air, then speaking once more. "I'm... I'm fine with causing harm, I mean... I did... Um, is it called awakening? Fighting for your life, fighting for righteousness... I'll be honest and say right here and now, so that there isn't any misconception... I'm not afraid to hurt people, but I don't want to kill people. I'm not interested in taking the government down... Not yet at least... I just want to learn the truth. I don't want to hear the truth from anyone... I just want to know... I... Um... I don't know if it's worth dying for or fighting for, but that's my reason, like it or not... So, you know... Um... Please don't act like I'm just going to be a nuisance!" At the end his voice broke slightly, before he shook his head to remove the sudden wrack of emotion. "Sorry. I... Know how to fight. I don't plan on dying either so..."

Rubbing at his mouth for a moment, the taste of his terrible idea still stuck to his lips, the boy continued. "I look forward to working with you all, and kicking butt together?"

"It's not really about causing harm. You are mostly fighting to protect yourself, but we can't be on the defensive all of the time. Whatever you are using your powers, for the sake of thinking of the higher purpose it entails, hmm.... ok... well the larger comrade over there that makes us all dwarf in comparison. I ran into her during a cry for help, the woman ending up perishing at the hands of a demon, much to my dislike, I was unable to do anything but protect the others that were still alive as they awakened to their gifts and disposed of the demons. Why tell you this? To think of the powerless, For those who can do nothing against those who see humans as food or game, or even those like the government who see us as easily manipulated playthings, that's what we are fighting against. Think of that, none of this is for a completely selfish reason. Or it can be if that helps you to keep going. "

Gabe then looked around to see if there was anything else to use for drinks.

"So enough serious talk, even though I would prefer to talk normally without restrictions, it seems as if me and Wicked have opposing zodiac signs. So to avoid the pretentious act of dancing over eachother's vocabulary, how about a game of cards? If not, I can definitely show a trick or two. I'm in the mood for a while. "

Creature took a breath. His mind pulled him ever more insistently, and before he knew it, the Playhouse appeared before him, its battered door warm and inviting in ways his home never achieved. He clenched his fist.


A wrapped knuckle slammed into the wood, rattling hinges and the chains of his weapons as if the devil himself demanded entry. He paused, waited a breath to see if anyone answered - and when no-one did he barged in, cloaked frame swallowing the light from the street. At once the decrepit structure warped and shifted, taking on its flashing lights and gut-rumbling bass.

Beneath the fanged maw of his cloak, he smirked. "Weird way of rolling out the carpet..."

The diminutive demon barked at and behind the Psyche-Terrorist banging on the locked door. He trotted over beside him and unlocked it before even allowing him to break it down. Seriously, without any business, no way in hell was he going to buy another wooden door. When the door finally opened, it was already apparent the whole team was there. But so were the open bottles he so carefully stored away for actual paying customers. Goddammit, why can't there be a time when they just pay for everything they break open in this place?