First Entrance - Open To All

[maverick_mitchell]

Tonight, Bar admits a very special guest. The narration believes that it’s safe to say that there are two kinds of people here: those who know of him, and those who will know of him.

He is wearing an olive-drab flightsuit and aviator shades, with his flight helmet cradled under his arm. It’s painted in stripes of red, white, and blue, and MAVERICK is spelled out just above the visor.

Welcome to Milliways, Lieutenant Mitchell. We believe you’ll find it to your liking.

Comments

[not_the_cavalry]

[ooc: Post-AU week, please on a thread? *_*. With Chuck Hansen (andinfluencepeople) or Melinda May]

[maverick_mitchell]

[OOC: But of course!]

[themysciran_diana]

There's a woman here also wearing red, white, and blue, but not on a helmet.

She's got a tiara, though.

And some really kickass boots.

Her eyebrow raises faintly as she looks at this Maverick's gear, but the corner of her mouth curves in amusement as well.

"If you were looking for an airplane hangar, I'm afraid you've mostly come to the wrong place," says Wonder Woman.

[maverick_mitchell]

(They are some really kickass boots.)

It's a good thing Maverick's got those shades on, because his gaze goes from south to north, if you catch the narration's drift. He is at least subtle about it, and appends it with the most charming smile he's got.

"It seems I have."

He walks over to Diana as though it's the most natural thing in the world to be transported out of the blue to a bar at the end of the universe, taking a seat next to her as he sets his flight helmet down.

"So. What's taken the place of the VF-1 ready room?"

[themysciran_diana]

Diana's been around the block a few times, and she's good at reading subtle. Her costume has only helped with that instinct, over the years.

"Cool your jets, Lieutenant. This is Milliways, the bar at the end of the universe. I'm Diana, of Themyscira."

[maverick_mitchell]

Outwardly, Maverick doesn't react. Inwardly, he does mark it up as a loss.

"Bar at the end of the universe, huh?"

A brief glance around reveals Tonk's bra, a couple of waitrats, and - probably most importantly - the Window.

"Yeah, I could buy that."

And then, he looks back at Diana, mildly surprised.

"You know your ranks."

He doesn't know how - yet - but she knows them.

[themysciran_diana]

"One of my dearest friends is Air Force."

Yes, Steve Trevor, she is talking about you.

"And I've liaised with the government before. It saves time, knowing how people expect their officers to behave."

[maverick_mitchell]

He nods, smirking. "There are guidelines."

A beat, then, with a vague gesture to her ensemble:

"You, uh - don't look like the contactor type."

(He knows Wonder Woman's costume. He's American, of course he knows Wonder Woman's costume. But not her secret identity, or her origin story, or - anything else, really.)

[themysciran_diana]

"Well, no," she admits, mouth quirking in a wry smile.

"But I don't particularly need to get paid, so that's not at all terrible."

[maverick_mitchell]

"You don't say?"

Well, color him curious.

(And also - nah, it couldn't be. Could it?)

"What kind of liaison work do you do, exactly?"

[headed4hell]

Well.

Looks like Grace, who had been heading home to feed Gus, is going to be sticking around for a while.

(For all she knows, Earl pops in with dog treats anyway.)

"Flyboy." Grace rocks back on the heels of her cowboy boots and grins. "You new?"

Look at her resisting the urge to ask about his mighty wings! Miracles do happen.

[maverick_mitchell]

But how about inquiries into riding into zones of danger?

Maverick returns her grin and walks over, like it's the most natural thing in the world to be transported to a bar at the end of the universe when you're heading into the VF-1 ready room.

"That I am, miss."

(Because every woman is a "miss" to him unless proven otherwise.)

"And might I say - I'm liking the place already."

[headed4hell]

Grace thinks 'Miss' is better than 'Ma'am' any day.

"What's not to like?" she asks, angling a hip toward him as she leans against a table. "Got every type of alcohol in existence. Pool tables, dart boards, magical shit... oh, and the clientele is pretty damn great, too."

She gestures to herself like a slightly drunk Vanna White.

[maverick_mitchell]

"I couldn't agree more."

He puts on his most charming smile and holds out a hand for her to shake.

"I'm Maverick."

[headed4hell]

Heh.

Heh, heh, heh.

"Hanadarko," Grace says, slipping her small, callused palm into his. There's a surprising amount of strength in her grip. "But you can call me Grace."

[maverick_mitchell]

"Pleasure to meet you, Grace."

And now the aviators come off, tucked into a convenient pocket so as to let Grace better see those baby blues.

(Nevermind the icon - the narration has like three of Mav glasses-less, and none of them fit here.)

"Care to show a new guy the ropes?"

(Make no mistake, his body language towards her is open as well - that smile stays on his face, and he leans ever so slightly toward her, one elbow on a table and one hand on his hip.)

[headed4hell]

"Hell yeah," she fires back, grinning. "First drink's free. What'll you have?"

Grace has her own aviators hooked through the front of her shirt, bringing her neckline down low. The cowboy boots, jeans, accent: all signs pointing to a country girl.

The badge and the gun attached to her belt should be self-evident.

[maverick_mitchell]

"Just water for now, thanks."

A waitrat obliges, and he grins.

"Can't be under the influence in a F-14."

(Maverick's done some ballsy stunts in his time, but that goes right past ballsy and straight into stupid.)

He takes a drink, taking the opportunity to let his eyes flick over Grace. The neckline is checked out, of course, along with the jeans and the badge and the gun.

"So you're a police officer?" he says, nodding to the badge as he sets his glass down.

[cassiefuckingcage]

Maybe Cassie recognizes him. Maybe she doesn't. Either way, she's got her feet up and her poker face on; stretched out on a couch in shorts, sunglasses, and a tank top with "U.S. Army" emblazoned on the front. She probably wouldn't have needed to speak to grab Maverick's attention.

But she jabs a finger toward the restroom. "Powder room's thataway, flyboy."

[maverick_mitchell]

For her efforts, Cassie is rewarded with a know-it-all smirk, and Mav's aviators are lowered to the tip of his nose, just so he can give her a Look over the top of them.

"I'll take that under advisement, soldier."

He pushes the aviators back up with a finger, and looks around the bar.

"You've made yourself at home."

[cassiefuckingcage]

"'S'a comfy couch. Big one, too."

Cassie blows a bubble with her gum.

"Nice sunglasses, by the way."

[maverick_mitchell]

"What, these old things?"

He takes them off, tucking them into a convenient pocket as he takes a seat and gestures for Cassie to take the one opposite.

"Got a name, soldier?"

[cassiefuckingcage]

"You're right," Cassie says. "I do wear 'em better."

She shifts her body and sets down on the other couch.

"What's it worth to you?"

[maverick_mitchell]

Maverick shrugs, looking around the Bar to take in its various sights.

"Call it idle curiosity."

One hand goes to rest on his flight helmet.

"Of course, if it's a bad time, I could come back later."

[cassiefuckingcage]

"What, and pass up a free drink?"

Gum pop.

"Name's Cage. Sergeant Cage, Special Forces."

She lowers her glasses and lets the blues shine through. A playful smirk crosses her face.

"You can call me Cassie. If I decide I like you."