milliways_bar | (no subject)

It wasn't quite summer yet in New York, but it was close enough. The weather had been clear and hot, but thankfully hadn't quite reached the point where it was oppressive. That said, a change for the cooler wasn't unwelcome, and when the front door opened to reveal the t-shirt-clad form of April O'Neil, the wry quirk to her lips suggested she was pleased enough to step over the threshold into the familiar confines of Milliways Bar.

She'd been around, but rarely for more than a few minutes together, generally simply checking in or using the bar as a way station between her New York and late-1800s London. Today, though, April thought she'd linger awhile, if only to take note of the growing sea of unfamiliar faces, and perhaps see a few familiar ones, as well.

Seating herself at the bar, she ordered coffee -- Large, with lots of sugar and cream, and Bar still knew just how to make it -- and opened the copy of the New York Times that had been tucked under her arm.

[OOC: It's been awhile; please feel free to interrupt her!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

... Whut.

Clarice blinks.

And repeats, very evenly, "Sort of like superheroes."

(Having learned her lesson from Cooper and the biker Bookhouse Boys, she does not inquire as to whether they have snazzy superhero getaway vehicles or really cool capes.)

It surprised April that it would seem strange to her, after spending time in the bar. "Yeah," she confirmed, and wondered if she should say the rest. "They're, uh. Turtles."

Clarice's belief in normalcy has been ripped away from her bit by bit, leaving her clinging to the tattered rags known as 'rationality.'

But, yeah.

Turtles.

Groovy.

"I ... think I remember something about that, actually," she says slowly.

"There was a comic book. And a cartoon." April was loathe to admit that second part, since it had involved her wearing that hideous yellow jumpsuit. "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, to be specific."