Winter tends to be a bit of a slow season for Singer's Circle. Open air productions tend to be sparse when you're risking pneumonia just by being outside, and vendors and tarot-readers don't see a lot of business when filmy shawls are replaced with winter coats and crystal balls tend to fog over with frost. So it's a bit on the quiet side, despite being one of the more popular attractions throughout the year. Still, there are plenty of people about, enjoying with winter. Like Lucky, who's currently standing up on one of the platforms that serves as a stage during appropriate seasons, holding up a skull that he's managed to crudely fashion out of snow.
Well, it might be a skull. Truth be told, the man isn't very artistic, so it kind of looks more like a vaguely anthropomorphic lump of lumps and dirt. "Alas, poor Frosty. I knew him... not at all, now that I think about it. I bet he owed me money. That bastard."
- PLOOF* What was that? A tomato from the audience? No, just a snowball, hurled by one Mr. White. The black-eyed brewer packs another one and *PLOOF* a second one hits Lucky in the elbow, exploding into white powder. Joel grins a little from where he stands, "Encore, encore." Joel, you're not supposed to throw things if you want an encore. That's not how this works. Did you not own a showplace? Well no, and that's half the problem, isn't it. He seems in a pretty good mood though, as he ducks around a column and says, "That's one hell of a way to get out of paying your debts. Melting."
Frosty's head goes flying, hitting the stage and exploding into a million powdery pieces. "Aw, man. I think he was just about to turn over on his boss, too." Lucky turns to Joel, wiping snow off of himself even as Joel unleashes another volley. "Man, they aren't kidding when they say your fans are your harshest critics!" The elven man seems to be in high spirits this afternoon, though, all smiles and laughter. "But admit it, if you could just melt and get out of paying a bill, you would have done it too. Especially on days you forget your wallet." Which for Lucky, is probably half accidentally on purpose.
Joel hadn't actually meant to decap-- wait. Well, he hadn't meant to shatter Frosty's head, anyway, and so he winces a bit and then shrugs his shoulders. There's more snow. They can make more. He chuckles just a bit and says, "If I could get out of a bill by melting with the option of reforming later? I would totally do it." He wanders over toward the stage and hops up on it. "So, what's the plan? Or, the objective? Or, is there not one?" Because sometimes, there just isn't.
"The objective, Dear Watson, is to just enjoy the day." Lucky reaches over to put an arm around Joel, walking around the periphery of the stage with him. "Been awhile since either of us have been on one of these things. And, you know, we might not have an audience or whatever, but it seems a good place to start. Later we can hit a bar, and maybe, just -maybe-, we'll be sober enough to remember where we usually park ourselves at the end of the night. Or better yet, we won't, and we'll see what the morning has in store. Though if Sid makes a frowny face at me, I'm blaming you. Because this was your idea."
"Been a while since you've been on one of these things," Joel says with a shake of his head. "I don't do the performing part." He does, however, stroll along with Lucky around the stage, not seeming to mind being up there, letting one arm drape around his shoulders as he looks thoughtful. "I think I can get behind this objective." He then smirks and says, "We'll just text Sid and ask him why he was late. He'll think that he missed something and will be too mad kicking himself for forgetting to be mad at us turning up where he wasn't expecting us."
New Activity ---------
"Oooh, you know what else? Not only ask him why he's late, ask him where the hell the supplies are. He'll think he was supposed to bring something with him, but he won't remember what. We could make bets on what kind of crazy shit he shows up with, and then look at him all weird when we're like 'Dude, all we said was bring paper plates. What's all this?' You ever seen a goat look sheepish? It's adorable." Though he does reach up to ruffle JOel's hair a bit. "I dunno. I think it'd be fun to see you on stage. I'll bring a stack of singles or whatever as you, like... I dunno. Chippendale's flare bartend?" And then, as if an afterthought, "Speaking of...I don't know what you put in your coffee, but damn son, that shit is -strong-. I'm gonna have to think twice about swiping it from now on. Or at least, you know, plan accordingly."
"Yes, that needs to be a thing. I kind of want to do it just to see what happens," Joel admits and then smirks as his hair is ruffled, ducking a bit. It's not like it makes all that much difference, the black waves falling in his eyes. "So you mean you might actually pay for your drinks for once?" he asks with a sidelong arch of one eyebrow over those glossy black eyes. "I'll flare bartend if you actually pay for a drink." But there's the sound of teasing in the tone. Confusion, however, registers after that. "I haven't had coffee since we got back. What did you *drink*?"
Lucky grins. "You wanna text him, or should I? Or, ooh, we could each take a prong. He's less likely to suspect a prank if we're both texting him." Though at the accusation of never paying for his drinks, he puts on his very best mock-offended face. "I'll have you know that people used to pay high dollar just for the pleasure of my company, sir. I feel that I've pulled my weight when it comes to my tab." Which is probably enormous. "But, wait... what do you mean you haven't had coffee since you got back? Who's coffee did I drink? And what the hell was -in- it?" Rather than shocked, he looks... amused, maybe? There might even be some 'impressed' in there. "Whatever it was, those colors are nice, but probably not the best if you have to function for the next few hours."
"I'll do the texting," Joel says. "He won't expect it as much from me." He watches the mock-offense with a slightly amused twist of his lips. "No doubt they did," he agrees, though on the topic of his tab... *handwobble*. "I mean I haven't had coffee since we got back. I didn't drink any while I was traveling, kind of cut back on caffeine.. but not booze, actually increased my alcohol consumption significantly." He reaches up and ruffles Lucky's hair in turn, "Well, whatever it was, sound like it made an impression. I'd advise against drinking random strangers' drinks but... I know you better than that."
Lucky lets Joel handle the texting, then, since it's way more likely that Joel can make it sound halfway plausible anyway. "Everyone needs more booze in their life. If it just happens to be mystery color-causing booze that just -happens- to be in what turns out to be a stranger's coffee that is questionaly old, all the better. It didn't kill me, so. Insert something witty here." Lucky reaches down on the stage, picking up a handful of snow and flicking it playfully at Joel. "But it might be worth actually paying for a drink to see what kind of mystery concoction you come up with. Just promise me that if my pants come off, you'll make sure that all cameras are confiscated, or that they agree to royalties."
"If your pants come off, I'm collecting all the tips, and telling you that Sid just dared you to do it and made off with all the cash," Joel tells Lucky as they meander around the stage. Though when Lucky stops to throw snow at him, he squints, wiping a bit off his collar and says "You want some more then?" He reaches down and gathers up another snowball, throwing it at Lucky and hitting him in the shoulder, the snowball disintegrating into a fine powder.
"You know, that'd probably be a good plan on your part. Sid might even believe that himself, and then feel guilty for having either lost it all or spent it all. But then we'd think we spent it all on booze, and that's a worthy endeavor. You might wanna write that one down for the future." He flashes Joel a playful wink, but does the mock jaw-drop again when the snowball is hurled his way. "You're declaring a formal challenge? I accept, sir. This means war. May the best man win!"
Lucky scoops up a snowball, taking a few cautious steps back as he puts some distance between himself and his newfound aggressor!
"What makes you think I haven't already used it?" Joel asks with both brows raised, but when Lucky starts to put distance between them, he is crouching down to gather up another snowball in hand. "I don't recall a formal challenge, but.. since I hurled first and you returned a flick in my direction, I suppose we can call it that." The next projectile, however, misses by a fair margin at that distance.
Lucky watches as the shot goes wide, sort of just standing a little straighter as he looks at the snowball. "Ok, so, strengths, makes a boss whiskey sour. Weaknesses, kinda throws like a girl. Noted." Still, his tone is light-hearted, not really meaning it as a slight. And he returns his own volley of snow, throwing it high up into the air so that it comes down in a high arc, landing just in front of Joel and splattering, grenade-style, over the front of the man. But that seems to remind him of something. HIs eyes light up, and he holds up a palm. "Ceasefire! I need your expertise!"
Joel doesn't seem to take any particular offense to being told he throws like a girl. He's seen some mean female ball players he wouldn't want to be hit by. Scooping up another ball of snow after the grenade style ball powders him with flakes, he aims to take another shot, but then ceasefire is called and he squints suspiciously. "My expertise?" He's still armed, but for the moment doesn't look like he's going to throw.
Lucky nods, moving over to Joel as he reaches into his pocket, removing a tiny bottle of ... something or other. It's dark, and small, and actually has a cork. Very old-timey looking, with no clear markings, meaning it could be damn near anything. "You have any idea what this is?" He hands the little bottle over to Joel, gently, because he's obviously not sure what exactly is in it. "Someone gave it to me. I don't think that they'd try and like, poison me or whatever, but I didn't really get a chance to ask what it actually -was-, either. I figured, you work with this kinda stuff all the time. Maybe you might know?"
When the small vial is produced, Joel takes it for a moment and examines the contents, then he pops it open and takes a quick sniff before closing it again. There's a furrow of his brow as he considers and then says, "Well.. if it's what I think it is, you take it to fix your noggin when someone's scrambled it for you and you find yourself developing a new tick." That's the best way that he can explain it. "Did the person who gave it to you also give you the drink that made you trip balls?"
"Nah, she wasn't even around when I drank that. Seriously, did you not leave coffee on the counter? Maybe it was Sid... or... hmmm. Did we bring someone home with us?" Lucky does his best to remember, but eventually just sort of shrugs it away. "So it's a brain-fixer? Huh. Wonder why she'd give me that? There's nothing wrong with me." He wrinkles his nose, as if the very thought were preposterous. "But, you know. That... might be useful. You should maybe hang onto that. I think I'm liable to just lose it. Or drink it by accident. Probably with a beer chaser."
"We'll get some kind of cabinet to put these sorts of things in," Joel says, then after a moment's pause, "With a lock on it." He then holds out his hand to take the small vial and tuck it away where it would be safe. "Could come in handy sometime." Then he looks around and says "Speaking of drinks. Weren't we headed in that direction?" He hops down off the stage and waits to see if Lucky is going to join him or not.
"Depends," he tells JOel. "You gonna roofie me too? Because if so, I think I'm gonna need an adult. An adultier adult. Not an adult like us. I don't think I would trust adults like us to responsibly adult. Well, you maybe, usually. But definitely not me." Though he does add, "Make sure that it's like, a couple of locks. I think Sid could probably get past just the one. How much is a fingerprint scanner?"
"Oh, I wouldn't actually put it in that cabinet. That one, he would be sure to get into," Joel says and then gives Lucky a shoulder bump. "Nah, I respect Sid too much for that." Which begs to wonder, would he if he didn't? Not likely. He then begins to amble on out of the square and in search of an establishment in which to get a beverage. "Though .. do his fingerprints appear exactly as the scanner would expect them to?" These and other philosophical questions.
Lucky slows down, thinking about Joel's last question. "Huh. You know... yeah, okay, we need to like... do some science on that, or something, because now I really wanna know. That could be useful. Or dangerous. Maybe both." He shudders a little, frowning. "Man. Sid with unlimited access to all restricted things. I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry." Catching up to Joel again, he says, "We're gonna need stronger drinks."
Joel continues to wander right on, letting Lucky catch up. He glances over his shoulder and says without missing a beat, "Definitely both." Then he clasps Lucky's shoulder and says "Laugh. No one wants to watch an elf cry." Then he continues onward, heading over toward the bar and grabbing the door, opening it up for Lucky to go on ahead first before he follows him in.
"-You- would. I'm sure that elf-tears are an ingredient in... something." He wrinkles his brow playfully at Joel. "If I start crying and you break out a bottle, I want ten percent of the proceeds. I feel like I earned it." Lucky does, in fact, head on in, but not before turning over his shoulder to say, "Was that chivalry, or do you just wanna stare at my ass like Sid does?" Though it's clearly teasing. "Come on. I'll buy today, since I'm pretty sure I owe you about four months worth of back drinks."
Joel pauses and considers and then says, "Fair enough. I'll be honest I've never experimented with elf tears. That might need to be a thing, now." He smirks just a little bit then and says "Don't worry, you'll get your cut of the profits." He nearly bumps into Lucky when he starts to head in and then pauses to look over his shoulder. For a moment Joel's mouth opens like he's going to retort and then there's just the faintest hint of color at the tips of those pointed ears that can't hide beneath his hair. "Chivalry," he mutters, "Don't make me reconsider."
Lucky laughs brightly as Joel starts to turn funny colors. "Oh, man. Just for that, you've earned yourself an experiment. Just let me know what you need from me, and I'll make it happen. We'll watch Old Yeller or Steel Magnolias or some shit." He reaches over to squeeze JOel's shoulder, nodding over to the bar. "So, what're we thinking? Beer? Wine? Shots? Light? Dark? Neon? Roll the dice and see what fate decides?" Which is probably not a great idea with someone who is known to rig how the dice work.
Joel mutters something under his breath again and then shakes his head and gives Lucky's shoulder a light push in the direction of the bar. As they approach he says, "Roll the dice." Because why not? It's not like he's working and he has to be careful of what he drinks around his employees and patrons. He sidles up to a stool and hops up on it, folding his arms on the surface of the bar. "And yes, you do owe me an experiment. Bridge to Terabithia or My Girl or some shit. I want to see big fat elf tears, ripe for the collecting."
-> >> Lucky to Here << <-=============================================
Rolled 5 Successes for an exceptional success.
< 1 2 5 5 7 8 8 8 10 10 >
=========-> >> Presence + Subterfuge.Looking_Innocent No Flags << <-
New Activity ---------
At the mention of elf tears, the bartender just looks between the two of them, getting a wary look on his face. Lucky notices it out of the corner of his eye, glancing up to meet the gaze of the bartender with an easy smile. "He watches a lot of Hentai. For school. The Japanese are weird people, man, but his professor insists that he get this research project done on time. Don't worry, he's okay." Because of all the ways he could have possibly handled that? That's the one that flowed most naturally, like reciting the pythagorean theorem.
Joel looooks over at Lucky, head turning and brow raising a little bit. Then he looks back over to the bartender and says, "What can I say, seeing an elf tied up and beaten sometiems just makes my day." It would look even creepier if the bartender could see the black eyed pointy-eared lost with his pale features and long digits. But he can't, and so it only comes off as moderately creepy. On the upside, he asks no questions, and just brings them drinks.
The bartender at least heard the part about rolling the dice to see what they get. And he must have picked up on the My Girl and such, too. Because what he brings them is a couple of white russians, to start with. Lucky turns to look back at JOel as the bartender walks away, whispering conspiratorially, "We'll make it a double feature." Maybe by means of a not-quite-apology.
Joel mutters, "Mhmn," as he reaches over and picks up his white russian, tipping it back without further comment and draining the glass to nearly half. He then sets it down. At least white russians taste good. "Double feature, and I may make you slice onions beforehand."
"That's fair," Lucky agrees. "You have yourself a deal." He leans over, putting his head on Joel's shoulder, briefly. "Just remember who loves ya." All things considered, it could have been worse. Probably not by -much-. But at least nothing is on fire. Lucky puts back his white russian as well, wincing a bit. "Jesus, -well-?" He looks for all the world like he might have just licked the bottom of someone's boot. "Man. I don't think I appreciated you enough until right this moment."
Joel shakes his head just a little and smiles despite himself. It's impossible to stay ruffled at Lucky for very long. He reaches over and ruffles his hair. "Yeah, yeah," he says with that slight smirk. "You just like me for my booze and my bird handling skills," he says with what might pass for amusement. He finishes off the white russian and then motions for another round of whatever the dice brings them.
"Hey, now. That's not true," Lucky counters. "You have other things we appreciate you for. Sid and I -both- like staring at your ass when you're not looking, too. But you always turn around before I can dig the quarter out of my pocket." Even Lucky, the master of all things poker-face, can barely keep it together through the rest of that sentence. The bartender just sighs and shakes his head, bringing them another round of white russians. Probably with well vodka again. Lucky sighs, shaking his head. "I might be crying by the time we leave here. Who knows?"
Joel just smirks and shakes his head at the teasing, and might even roll his eyes -- not that anyone could tell if he did or not. It also means that he can check people out sidelong without anyone noticing, unless they learn to watch the subtle movements of muscle around his eyes rather than the eyes themselves -- but let's face it, nobody is that interested in what he's looking at. He takes the second white russian with it's well vodka and just takes another swallow. "You might, indeed. Fortunately, I can drink almost anything."
"Oh, a few more of these and I probably won't be able to tell the difference. If I haven't thrown up." Because the smell of the low-grade vodka is enough to make him queasy all on its own. Like rubbing alcohol and rotting potatoes. "Down the hatch, I guess." This time, though, he has the foresight to hold his nose as he drinks it down, though from the look he gives it doesn't make much difference at this point. Pushing the glass away, he closes his eyes and breathes. "Man. Now I know how Luke felt sitting next to Yoda."
"If you can lift a fighter out of a swamp by the end of the night, we can forego the elf tears altogether," Joel says as the white russian is finished off. He then leans over and motions to the bartender and asks if they can have something, anything different, and preferably without vodka in it. He then looks over toward Lucky and says, "If you're going to hurl.." and hands him an empty tumbler that had been sitting on the bar next to him with remnants of ice in it.
"Oh, dude, -no-," Lucky says, looking over to JOel. "There's a lot of samples that I'm willing to provide, but you can't use -that-, man. That's just wrong." Which causes a few more heads to turn their way this time. Because statements like that are attention-getters, and the elf is too distracted for subtlety. "There's a line."
"And here I thought you had no lines," Joel says, just loud enough that those who are staring every so often can hear. If it's going to go that way, he's not going down without giving as good as he gets. The next drinks that they receive contain rum, and not even bad rum, really. They're not great, but they are better than the white russians before them.
Lucky looks like he's about to object, even holding up a finger, but then things better of it and just puts his hand down. "Touché." He takes the little bin and slides it over next to him, grinning over at Joel. "Man. I missed you. I'm glad you decided to come back, too." This one is actually affectionate, the elf's eyes bright (and not just from the tears that are already starting to well up there as his stomach starts to revolt). "Things just weren't the same without you around."
Joel smiles a little then and looks into his drink rather than at Lucky. It's not a wry smirk, but something more genuine. "Yeah," he says at a lower volume, for the moment not particularly interested in the rest of the bar patrons listening in. "Did you doubt I'd come back?" There seems to be a genuine question in that. "I missed you guys. I just needed some time to deal with some things, and Sid had his thing that needed doing and.. I couldn't do the third wheel thing right then. I needed to just.. deal with my own shit, you know?"
Lucky nods. "We just... didn't know if you'd want to come back -here-," he says. "I mean, when there were so many other options out there for you, and the bad memories here." Lucky looks over at Joel, sympathetically. "Big changes, you know?" But the tone carries more information than the words. Changes that big, that unexpected, tend to have an unbalancing effect on their kind. "But I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad you're alright. And you know if you need anything, we're here for you. Maybe even not tease you for a we- da-- few hours?" It's always best to set realistic goals.
Joel shrugs his shoulders just a bit and looks around the bar, and then out the windows at the town for a moment before looking back to Lucky. "I didn't come back to come back here. I came back to the two of you. Here, there, wherever." He then looks back to his drink and lifts it to take a long swallow. "It's a bummer, right? I liked that place. I did a lot of work on it. But it's not the first time I've started over from scratch. I'll do something else, and it'll be fine." And he does seem to believe that. "It's what we do. We prepare for shit and work toward something better, because we know shit sucks, but.. it can get better.. and it will."
Lucky thinks about that for a moment, then laughs. Brightly. It even drags out for a couple of seconds. Whispering this time, so that the people around them can't hear, he says, "Home is where the elf and the goat are, huh? I feel like we should get that on one of those fancy-letter doormats." There's just something inherently funny about that to Lucky, it seems. "But man, we totally would have come to you. Just remember that. I think Sid was a little disappointed he didn't get to skateboard in a castle, anyway. Maybe for his birthday."
"Yeah," Joel says with a bit of a chuckle, "Next time. Maybe for his Birthday. We can take him to one of the many castles of Europe and see if we can get ourselves out of getting arrested for letting him skateboard around in it." It doesn't sound like he's against the idea at all. He fiddles with his glass a bit, drinking this one a bit more slowly than the first two drinks. "Home is where the elf and goat are," he agrees. Then he glances over at Lucky and says, "Yeah.. I know that you would have." He gives him a bit of a shoulder bump and says, "But it sounds like you guys had a good time."
"It was alright," he says. "I mean, don't get me wrong, we had a -blast- with those cardboard Enid things you found for us. One of these days, you're gonna have to tell us how you managed that, anyway. That was the fun part. THe rest of it? Running, looking, finding out that the stupid fucker was one step ahead of us. And then we get there, and there's, like... talking. And Sid was upset. And the dude was upset. And everyone was upset. And. Ugh. I need to be drunker before we start getting into all that. But hey, we got to see all those cheesy tourist things on the way. Yarn balls and bull statues and the world's biggest pair of pants. THey're really size-obsessed in the midwest. I never realized that until I left it behind the first time. It's painfully obvious now."
"Well, they don't have a whole lot going on out there," Joel points out. "They're obviously compensating." Says the guy who doesn't have a lot going on right here either. He motions to the bartender to bring Lucky another drink. "Right, so, table that conversation until more drinks have been had. As for Enid, I just got a photo of her and had the Office Depot print shop make me a couple. It cost a few bucks but.. was worth it for a worthy cause."
"Huh. Really?" But Lucky's already grinning. It'll likely end up with much more embellishments by the time he and Sid get done with it. There may even be a swordfight at some point. Joel knows him well enough to know that the narrative is already starting to change in the elf's head. But Lucky puts down another rum-thing, the sweet relief of middle-tier rum washing away all the horrid memories of the past few drinks. "Well, we'll have to make sure that we don't fall into the trap of the midwest. I'm sure there's plenty for us to do around here." Find it, or make it. One or the other.
"There's plenty for us to do around here, and plenty of other places we can go that only involve flying over the midwest, and not actually driving through it," Joel says, "Or maybe taking a train across Canada or something." He leans back against the bar, swiveling his stool around, making himself comfortable. Rum. He drinks his rum, and then says "Oh yeah, we can make an entire cardboard cutout army and put them all of the place re-enacting famous battles all over the town."
"Ooh, or find pictures of, like, the local big-shots and have them photoshopped into compromising positions with other big-shots. Especially if they already aren't very popular. Let people know that they aren't so big that they're untouchable." There's the Dawn. Hope that borders on glorious revolution. "Might even score some points with our 'other' friends, if enough people react."
"If you can manage to find the photographs, I have the Office Depot account," Joel says with a little bit of amusement, apparently not against this idea either. After all, there are no laws against putting cardboard cutouts in compromising positions, are there? He finishes off his rum drink and swivels a bit on his stool. For a moment, he looks out over the people coming and going from the bar.
"Do we care if there is?" So sayeth the Judge. At least he's not a judge of any actual court of law in the mortal world. "Some people need to have their dirt dug up and brought to light, so we can make shit better. And... yeah. I think that'd give us a nice starter project, at least. Surely someone's got some dirty laundry here someplace."
Lucky swivels in his chair to look out over the crowd with Joel, following the man's gaze, trying to see if he can pick up on whatever it is that Joel is picking up on... or at least find some minor amusements out there among the people.
It's difficult to figure out exactly what Joel is looking at. One can guess from the general direction his head is pointed, somewhat, but he could very well have his head pointed slightly toward the middle of the room and be staring at Lucky, rather than the crowd itself, for all the elf knows. Joel notices him looking, and a faint smile curves the edges of his lips. "Like I said.. You provide the pictures and I will provide the cutouts." It seems he's in, one way or the other.
-> >> Lucky to Here << <-=============================================
Rolled 3 Successes
< 4 4 5 7 8 9 10 >
================================-> >> Wits + Wyrd - 2 No Flags << <-
GAME: Lucky spends 1 Glamour
-> >> Lucky to Here << <-=============================================
Rolled 1 Success
< 2 4 8 >
==============================================-> >> 3 No Flags << <-
Lucky scans the bar, looking out over the patrons. Joel might even get the sense that he's reaching for something Other, if he's so paying attention. Lucky's own gaze settles on a couple at one of the booths, a man and a woman, both in their mid twenties, decently dressed. The woman is talking, gesturing pointedly, while the man sits there and nods along, sipping idly at his drink. Lucky nods over to Joel, practically whispering. "She's been talking about the most vapid, insipid, petty things for the entire time they've been on this date. He wishes that he could find a way to duck out of it, but his best friend set him up with the girl, and he doesn't wanna just dip out. He's wishing more than anything in the world that -something- would happen that would let him just... leave, and keep his dignity intact."
GAME: Joel spends 1 Willpower
GAME: Joel spends 1 Glamour
-> >> Joel to Here << <-==============================================
Rolled 3 Successes
< 1 2 4 5 6 7 9 9 10 >
===========================-> >> Wyrd + Composure + 3 No Flags << <-
"We could light the bar on fire," Joel says, though he does glance over his shoulder to make sure that the bartender doesn't overhear that one. He doesn't appear particularly serious despite the dry delivery. He looks over at the woman for a moment, and then over at her date. It's about then that a literal shower of cockroaches pour out of the woman's cup into her lap. She can see them. She can FEEL them, and her eyes suddenly go as round as saucers and she screams at the top of her lung, dropping the cup and violently trying to brush herself free as she stumbles back and away, and then flees the bar. The man jumps up from the table as well, but as soon as the woman clears the threshold, the illusion vanishes and there's nothing left in front of him but a spilled cup of coffee on the floor. He looks around, bewildered for a moment, while people glance up and look around in confusion, and a server moves to clean up the coffee. Joel swivels around to face the bar again and orders himself another drink.
Lucky watches as Joel does... whatever it is he just did, eyes widening a bit as the woman gets up and screams, then runs out the door. "What the f--" He turns to Joel, watching the man carefully. "Ok," he admits. "That was -- effective. Creepy as -fuck-, but like... ten out of ten on delivery." Lucky signals to the bartender, "Something top shelf for this guy. And for that one," he says, pointing over his shoulder at the man trying to figure out which of the various gods of fate just granted his deepest wish. "Remind me not to piss you off," Lucky tells Joel. "I got nothin' on that."
Joel looks over at Lucky like he has no idea what he's talking about, taking a long siiiiip from his drink, and then setting the mug down. Though, when Lucky orders them both another drink, he chuckles just a little. "Well, it was a sure fire way to get her to leave him alone without blaming it on him, so he shouldn't get into any trouble with his friend. She might never come back here again, but hey at least he has a bar he won't run into her at from now on." Then he looks flatly at Lucky and says, "Oh, that's what I can do when I'm in a good mood." Let's not even talk about what he can do when he's not.
"That's... comforting. So you throw like a girl, but you've got... skills. Alright. I'm down with this. You're on my side." Thankfully. Lucky even manages to side-eye Joel the tiniest little bit, newfound things coming out about the man that he wasn't aware of. "At least there's fuel for those tears later. Though admittedly those might be from laughter. You might need a second bottle."
"I do throw like a girl," Joel agrees and then smiles, a little genuine smile, and gives Lucky a nudge with his shoulder. "And yes, I'm on your side. To be fair, I would rather make you cry from laughter than otherwise, but.. I'm not really that guy." He's always been too serious to be funny.
"Of course you're that guy," Lucky tells him, blinking in surprise. Like those words simply don't compute somehow. "Why would you think you're not that guy?" He bumps Joel's shoulder back playfully too. "Look, I know that we've been a little... occupied lately, and didn't really get a chance to show it to you, but... we've always thought you were exactly the guy that we needed. That's why we did the whole... tux, and hang gliders, and ... well. You were there." Lucky looks -genuinely- confused now. "Dude. If you weren't exactly the guy that we wanted, that wouldn't have happened. Don't say shit like that. We love you. And you -do- make us laugh. Sometimes, the best jokes need the... uh... what do you call it." He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. "The straight man?"
There's a bit of a flicker of confusion on Joel's features when Lucky blinks at him in surprise. "Oh I mean, I didn't mean I'm not like, willing to go out and have fun and do crazy shit like hanglide off a roof in a tux into a river. I just meant I'm not usually.. funny, not intentionally anyway. Though I suppose, yeah, the straight man is a role that I've played." He wobbles a ltitle at the shoulder bump, as though it had been harder than it was. "But yeah, I love you guys too, and there's never been another group that I would have ever fit in. I'm right where I want and need to be. I just meant I'm not much of a comedian." He reaches over and gives Lucky's arm a bit of a squeeze, reassuringly.
Lucky nods, looking reassured. "Ok. Good. You had me worried for a minute." He shakes his head, downing whatever drink is still in front of him. Maybe one of those rum things. "Now that we've got that shit cleared up," he tells his Motleymate, "let's pay this fine gentlemen for all the trouble we've caused him, go find our goat, and have ourselves a night out." Which probably sounds damn weird to everyone who isn't them. "I'm feeling mischief in the frozen air, and I think we can find it, if we put our minds to it."
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