milliways_bar | (no subject)

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YT's sitting at a table with a good view of the Observation Window, nursing a vodka sour and wearing a thoughtful and slightly troubled expression. Her chin is settled on her crossed arms, which are in turn resting on the table.

Right now she wishes that Milliways didn't let her cheat time: she would prefer to wait out what's going on back home here in the bar, but as it is, she'll have to go back and pick up where she left off.

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For once, Eric is out of the Ant-Man suit and in normal clothes. He's moving a bit stiffly and he's got several bruises, including a big ole black eye. He slides up by YT.

"Why the long face?"

YT looks at the dude. Then looks him over in a decidedly withering fashion.

"Look, Ginger Boy. I am so not in the mood to be picked up right now." Since the newly dubbed Ginger Boy does not seem exceptionally sketchy, she doesn't add that any further come-ons may invite a shot of Liquid Knuckles or an elbow in the cojones.

Well, that, and she doesn't want to get put in the cells for the third time.

Eric points at his black eye. "I'm in no shape to be picking up. Jesus. Sorry that I don't want in to your panties you're not going to be inviting me in."

YT thinks that the Ginger Boy doth protest too much. "Just what the fuck was I supposed to think you were doing, then?"

"Gee, actually concerned for a girl?" Eric says. "A guy doesn't have to be on the prowl all the time."

"Please. Guys don't go up to strange girls in bars asking what's up with them unless they're looking to get something out of it."

"I was looking for some hot chick to take my mind off the fact a psychotic clone with an alien gun on his arm kicked the shit out of me earlier," Eric says. "Soooooorry."

YT regards him thoughtfully: for a few seconds it's hard to say whether she'll accept his apology or slap him.

In the end, she sighs, softening a little. "You shouldn't go cruising when you're miserable," she says. Honestly, men.

"Yeah, well, not much else to do right now," Eric says. "Should I still offer to buy you a drink, or should I just drop my ball on the table now so you can take 'em easier?"

"Neither," YT says. "I got my own drink and I don't take a guy's assets unless I can win 'em fair and square in a fight." She turns away and sips her vodka sour, so she doesn't see Eric's expression.

"Give me two weeks and I'll take you up on that," Eric says. "I'm a superhero, by the way."

"That's a line I haven't heard before," YT says. "And I was joking. I mean, what would I do with 'em? Mount them on a plaque? Turn them into juggling balls? Not much use, unless you've got more than most guys."

"Yeah, I got nothing," Eric says. "They're pretty much only useful till attached."

"Eh, from what I've seen, they're mostly useful for getting in the way of rational thinking," YT says. She does not mention that Eric's recent actions are evidence of that. "But I guess they're still more useful on you than off."

"Also kind of important for that whole procreation thing," Eric says. "Storks are so last season."

"Yeah, there's that." YT shrugs, as if making a grudging concession. "Without 'em we'd be reproducing by mitosis or something like that."

"No fun in that," Eric says. "And that was totally not a come on."

"I got that," YT assures him. "And I actually agree with you."

"Good," Eric says. "I'm Eric, by the way."

"YT," she says, offering him a handshake.

Eric shakes her hand. "You never did say what's got you upset."

YT looks contemplative for a few moments, then shakes her head - uncertainly, at first, and then more vigorously. "I just met you. If I told you, I'd be oversharing in a major way."

"Got it," Eric says. "And thanks. Some chicks don't actually care about that sort of thing."

YT didn't expect that - she thought Eric would insist on her telling. Maybe he's smarter than he looks - a little.

"I try to only make people really uncomfortable if it serves my ulterior motives," she says loftily.

"I like girls with ulterior motives," Eric says. "At least, ones who are honest they have 'em."

"One useful thing I sussed out from psych class is that people don't generally realize they have ulterior motives when they do something. Doesn't matter whether they're men or women. Most people are just dumb that way." And in many other ways.

"Hell," Eric says. "I guess I'm unlucky because I know exactly why I do most things."

"'Scuse me, but I can't exactly take that as an unbiased assessment. You may think you know what you're doing but be as muddled as everyone else."

Almost nobody thinks they're average or worse than average, after all.

"Although since you said you're unlucky, maybe you actually are less muddled than most people."

"Hell, I don't know what I'm doing," Eric says. "I just know that I'm looking out to cover my ass most of the time."

"I take it back. I believe what you said about knowing your motives." YT says, hiding a smile behind taking a sip from her drink.

"So. You been coming here often?" Eric shakes his head. "Man, I can't make that sound not like a pick up line."

YT just passes over that second sentence. "Yeah. I was Bound here for six months when I first came, although I didn't spend all that time here. I've been popping in and out pretty much whenever I want since then - for about a year, bar time, this past Mardi Gras.

"Nice," Eric says. "I only started finding this place about a month ago. Well, for the bar, at least. It's only been a few weeks back there."

"Yeah, the time thing takes some getting used to. I tend to abuse it in order to do my homework and studying without squeezing out other stuff. It'll come in real handy when finals are on in a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, college is a bitch," Eric says. "That's why I got a cushy government job."

"Hey, I never thought I'd go to college. I actually like it. Maybe I'm a masochist or something."

"'S funny, though, you said you were a superhero. I never heard of a cape who works for the Feds. Unless you're some kind of genetically engineered super-soldier or something? We've got a few of those around here."

"More like a specially selected pilot," Eric says. "I wear a SHIELD made suit, lets me shrink in size and stuff."

"How would that work, anyway? If it just got rid of some of your mass, your brain would be too small to function, and if it shrunk your atoms you wouldn't be able to breathe normal-size air."

Eric shrugs. "All I know is it works," he says. "I just wear it, I didn't build it."

"Shoulda figured," YT says. She sounds disappointed: she's always been kind of curious about how the whole shrinking thing works.

"I'd say 'maybe the creator will show up here', but Hank Pym is a douchebag," Eric says. He chuckles a little.

YT actually snickers right along with that. "He's an egghead. There's a high incidence of douchebags within the population."

"You know, YT," Eric says. "You're good people."

"I more like to think of myself as a punk, but I'll take that as a compliment," she says, grinning broadly.

Eric just smirks and nods. "I'm going to go head for my bunk. Nice meeting you."

"You too - weirdly enough." Considering how this whole encounter began.

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