Steven G. Rogers (
thekidfrombrooklyn) wrote in
milliways_bar2021-06-29 12:33 pm
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Entry tags:
er... hello again
There are doors and then there are Doors.
Steve was not looking for a Door. It wasn't even on his mind. But once he steps through it, his breath catches a little and his eyes well up.
He's been gone a long time.
"Bar," he says as he gets onto a stool, "a chocolate egg cream, please."
Coming right up.
[ooc: A quick explainer.]
Steve was not looking for a Door. It wasn't even on his mind. But once he steps through it, his breath catches a little and his eyes well up.
He's been gone a long time.
"Bar," he says as he gets onto a stool, "a chocolate egg cream, please."
Coming right up.
[ooc: A quick explainer.]
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Or what amounts to one, anyhow. Bucky's right; she really ought to hold out for a rank of her own even if it's only honorary. She takes a swallow of her beer and thinks back.
"Got caught up in a scuffle between a few powered folk that turned into a kinda... time war, I guess y'could say. One second I was flying in my own place and time, the next I was in the middle of a battle surrounded by dinosaurs and aliens and who knows what."
She shrugs a little. "After that, I spent some time at a place kinda like this, somewhere out in the galaxy, before I wound up where 'n when I am in Gotham."
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"Where is Gotham, again?"
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She takes a sip from her drink. "Jersey, on the waterfront. Though it's more of a stopover for me these days; I got a new charter that send me all over creation."
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She gestures with her bottle. "The Skipper – the gal who hired me – she chartered us both. It's fine as anything to be back in the air, I gotta tell you."
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"I fly the Skipper and her girls wherever they wanna go. They're costumed heroes, you know the type? The Black Canary, that's one; Huntress is the other."
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He adds, amused, "Yeah, I know the type."
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Zinda beams at him. "So, what brings you to our little corner of the multiverse today, sugar? Aside from chocolate egg creams, I mean."
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“Today the door opened for me again, so here I am.”
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Zinda sighs to herself and makes a mental note, then gives him a bracing sort of smile.
"Well, lemme be the first t'welcome you back. Let me treat you, sugar: next round's on me."
[OOC: I HAD to. Poor Zinda has the WORST luck, canonically speaking.]
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[ooc: Poor Zinda!]
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Maybe especially then, depending on how he'd gotten out of it and whether or not she'd been involved. "So, Steve Rogers – you as fond of cuttin' a rug as your buddy Bucky?"
That dance floor is sure looking mighty lonely.
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She doesn't specify; Steve can, if he likes, or the Bar will provide. She's got faith.
Zinda picks up her fresh drink – cold beer in a bottle – and winks at him. "If you ever decide you want to pick it up, I'm a pretty good teacher, if I do say so myself."
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… or he’s really, really sad.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells Zinda.