(no subject)

[ihavemyflaws]

Once Kara found the pyramid equipment abandoned for the night, she went out and practiced her aim like she's been holding a grudge against the backboards, helped by the dim light radiating from the building. It wasn't much, but she was stubborn enough to keep at it for over half an hour.

She's been back inside about the same amount of time when she opts out of another refill of her shot glasses and gets the whole bottle of Glen Docan from the bar instead. With that bottle in one hand she walks right up to the door and tugs at it.

Braces one foot against the wall and pulls again.

Then -- just in case she's completely frakking stupid here -- she decides to try pushing the door open instead. If possible, it works even less.

Mouth twisted in a sneer, she gives one more useless tug before backing off. She reopens the bottle, takes a long drink, and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Comments

[gavin62truck]

It's probably for the best that Kara stopped trying to open her door, because seconds after she takes a swig of her drink, the door swings in abruptly -- and Tommy steps inside. He stops short to keep from bumping into her, not expecting anybody to be standing right there with a bottle of whiskey in their hand.

"Whoa, sorry-- oh, hey, flygirl."

He starts out with a smile as he hadn't seen her since Cubefall, but after eying her for a quick second, it fades just a bit. "You alright?"

[ihavemyflaws]

"Hey" comes out of her mouth automatically.

He's lucky he wasn't ten seconds faster. That Glen Docan could be all over him instead of in its bottle. Waste of good whiskey.

And it'd probably suck for him, what with his sobriety thing.

"I was just trying to open that thing" -- she gestures with the bottle, one finger pointed at the door -- "and seconds later you come in." She spreads both hands in front of her, barring the few fingers needed to keep the whiskey in place. "Easiest thing in the worlds. So what's the trick?"

[gavin62truck]

"Wh-- oh. Right."

Bound.

"Jeez, well. I dunno, honey. If I knew, I'd tell you."

He gestures at a nearby table.

"We could always curse it out and glare at it together, see if that works."

He's not trying to be a wiseass -- she's been drinking, she's frustrated, and he only means to take some of the edge off. His way of being helpful, or something.

[ihavemyflaws]

"This is some serious bullshit. You know this, right?"

After giving him a look that says no, seriously, you do know this, Tommy, she pinches her lower lip and glances from the door to the table, not sure she's done yet.

"I left," she goes on, matter-of-fact, frustration on a low simmer. "With Ellen." Her hand rises to about Ellen's height, but if Ellen's got a last name she doesn't know about it. "And some other people. Trust me: you ever have a second honeymoon, you can rule out her world. But here I am now." She points two fingers to the door. "Nothing."

[gavin62truck]

"I know," he says earnestly, giving her a seriously, I know this is bullshit look in return.

The next thing she says surprises him.

"Ellen? I know her." How many Ellens are here who live in a world with that sort of cautionary description? "Nothin' personal against her or whatever, but of all the worlds you could've escaped to, you picked hers?"

[feminine_menace]

YT came in the back door just in time to see Kara trying (and failing) to open the front. "Hey," she says, gently. "I've totally been there. It seriously blows."

[ihavemyflaws]

"You can say that again."

It's only after she's agreed that she glances over to see who the familiar voice is coming from.

"But this doesn't still happen to you?" Maybe that should make her feel better, but for the moment it doesn't. "How'd you get it to stop?"

If there's something she can do, she'll do it.

[feminine_menace]

"I didn't," YT says. "It just kind of happened on its own after a while." She shrugs apologetically.

[OOC: Speaking of apologetic, sorry it took me so long to reply! I accidentally deleted the e-mail notification and then a few days later I was like "Hmm, don't I have a comment to reply to somewhere?" And well, here I am.]

[ihavemyflaws]

She frowns a little, disappointed. General consensus about the door seems to be after a while, but as far as she's concerned she's been here a while already.

"How long?"

[ooc: No worries! I've had that happen, too!]

[katyafeline]

And now (was there always? Hard to say) there is a gal at the table behind Kara (or rather, on the table behind Kara, she is a firm believer that most of these tables are too dang big and escaped a conference room somewhere) with a bottle of vodka and a couple of shot glasses.

One of which is Katya's.

"It's unlucky to drink alone." And she's the sort to take that rather seriously.

[ihavemyflaws]

"Is that the trick to this?"

It's not. She's been drinking with others enough to balance out her drinking alone. Probably.

But it's a trick she could live with, and tonight she'll entertain possibilities. If a door can be opened through sheer force of will -- or by drinking -- she will get this godsdamned door open.

[katyafeline]

"The door? Nyet - that is... less predictable." Of course, she has a fairly good idea as to why her door won't open back to Moscow, but she never said it was a reason she accepted.

[ihavemyflaws]

"Less predictable."

She huffs out half a laugh over the bottle of whiskey and takes a few steps closer.

"That's a diplomatic way to put it."

[janisthorn]

Kara isn't the only one harboring a slight grudge toward the door. Presently there is a leather-clad huntress occupying a nearby seat, a double shot of tequila in her right hand. Her eyes, already half facing the door, turn to meet the pilot.

"You are bound here as well?"

[ihavemyflaws]

Mouth set in an unhappy line, she turns toward the source of the voice. "Have been for weeks."

If she doesn't start thinking about it in terms of months it's slightly more bearable.

But only slightly.

Yeah, fine, it's not more bearable at all. It's frakked up.

"Turns out I can leave if someone else is opening the door, but when I try it myself I get nothing."

[janisthorn]

"I have heard this before, but have never done so," Leela says.

"The world I would return to is not a pleasant one. But there is something I must face there."

[ihavemyflaws]

The look she gives the other woman is quick appraisal, the idle kind leveled at a stranger on first meeting, and she nods. "Yeah, I know how that goes."

The truth is that being in a place where she can eat, drink, frak, play pyramid, and feel sunlight on her face whenever she wants is great. She doesn't mind wringing all the fun she can out of it.

But the lack of choice gets to her.

"What do you need to face out there?"

[raptorcanaria]

Dinah enters just as Kara backs off, dressed in fishnets and leather and in the act of pulling a blonde wig off her head as she does.

She glances from the bottle to the expression on the pilot's face, and jumps to a conclusion.

"Not working, right?

[ihavemyflaws]

Caught off guard, she does a double take as the wig comes off and she realizes she actually knows this person.

"Not for me."

Obviously it's working just fine for some people, and frak if she understands why she's not one of them.

"What's with the wig?"

And the fishnets, for that matter.

[raptorcanaria]

"Oh."

Yeah. Dinah glances at it, then turns behind her and tosses the wig back through the door into her bedroom.

"The superhero thing. Got to protect my real identity."

[ihavemyflaws]

She blinks, surprised, and even though she's turned fully toward Dinah her eyes rivet to the door for a moment.

It feels like the biggest frakking tease.

"Your disguise is leather, fishnets, and a blonde wig?" She's thinking that for some people that combination is just a good night in general, but even though she must've been about twelve the last time she read a comic book she can't recall any of the superheroes she knew having low-key disguises. "Hey, compared to Diana, that's subtle."

[cbucsrule]

Well, it's one way to enjoy a bottle of Glen Docan, he guesses. Not a great way -- who wants to drink out of frustration -- but he gets it, he does. That stubborn godsdamn door.

"Frustrating as hell, isn't it." The door opened just fine when they went out with Ellen. Didn't keep him here, didn't keep Kara here. "Makes you wonder if there's an actual reason for it, or if the universe is just frakking with people."

And it makes him even more convinced that out there, he's walking into an ambush and Kara's falling to her death and that's the end of things. But if that's the case, why do they of all people deserve this... this borrowed time? He likes to think he might know the reason, but that's vanity talking.

[ihavemyflaws]

She knows Sam's voice, and she doesn't turn to face him right away. Tonight's one of those nights when she feels like punching the door until somebody pulls her away. Like clawing at it until her fingertips are bloody and full of splinters.

If she hadn't left her gun upstairs she'd try shooting the door open.

She won't rule it out.

"What could possibly be the reason for this."

Raising the bottle for another drink, she glances sideways at him.

[cbucsrule]

"Hey." He steps closer, turns her, rests a hand on each of her shoulders. Taking a moment, he studies her face, her eyes, but all he can do, really, is shake his head. He's seen a lot of things lately that don't have good explanations and don't come packaged with good reasons.

"I don't know that there is one."

It's only a little bit of a lie, 'cause he just told himself what he thought the reason was. But he's not gonna bring that up again.

"But it's not just you." Like a demonstration could possibly be necessary, he reaches for the doorknob and gives it a pull. There's no answering creak of wood as the door opens 'cause it doesn't. It doesn't even frakking budge, so his hand goes back to her shoulder. He likes it better there, nods toward the interior of the bar.

Maybe they can find a better thing to focus on. Some kind of more pleasant distraction.

[ihavemyflaws]

Knocking back some whiskey keeps her from making direct eye contact for a few seconds, but he has her full attention as he reaches forward and pulls on the door.

How frakked up is it that she feels vaguely gratified when it doesn't work for him either.

"It's not that I don't like a well-stocked bar," she acknowledges after a second, turning toward the bar itself.

That's not the part she hates.