milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Mel is in the bar, sitting at a table with a huge breakfast of pancakes and bacon and scrambled eggs. Her Security badge sits beside the plate, and she's generally looking to be in a good mood.

[OOC: Mun is having a crisis. So, um, responses slow and she might disappear]

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Barry, on his way to breakfast, can't miss the big plate of food. Or its owner.

"Morning, Mel."

"Mornin', Flash," she replies, kicking out a chair for him. "How goes?"

"It goes well," he says as he sits. "Had a nice quiet weekend. And how are things for you?" He studies all the food.

"You mind if I snatch a bacon strip?"

"Sure," Mel pushes the plate towards him. "My weekend was pretty quiet as well. It was good."

"Hmmm. Two people on staff with quiet weekends. Guess we aren't trying hard enough to look for trouble." He munches a strip.

"Seems, judging by the breakfasts you have, that your metabolism is as good as mine."

"Yeah, sounds like trouble's doin' too good of a job at hiding.

"Probably not as good," she allows, "but it's pretty good."

"Time was, if I didn't see trouble, I would put on my costume and go on patrol. The bad guys had to be up to something. Though sometimes, they were just all in jail, or on trial, or taking a few days off.

"Gave me an excuse to go for a run, I guess.

"Here, though? What would I patrol?" He shrugs.

"Well, 'sactly," Mel points out. "That's what I'd do. If they're not causing trouble where I can see it, they're off doin' it somewhere else."

She shrugs.

"He's doin' somethin' with a language I didn't recognise. Don't know what, though."

A quick way to get sneered at would be to note that Mel, in going on patrol, acts just like a cop, same as he did. But Barry keeps that to himself. And then takes note of Mel's cryptic comment.

"He...your brother, you mean? Did you show it to Indy?"

She shakes her head, apparently oblivious to her crypticness.

"Not yet. Haven't seen him yet. Will do, though. Think I can remember it OK.

"Course, he could just be tryin' to wind me up."

"The worst ones do that," Barry says with a bit of long-forgotten anger in his voice. "I prefer a good old-fashioned thief. Just you and them, nothing personal." And then he remembers who he's talking to.

"Oops. Sorry." He tries to grin but can't quite make it.

Mel, on the other hand, laughs.

"Oh yeah, I prefer us too."

Barry smiles a little more easily now.

"Probably would have been interesting to see if I could have stopped you. Never went up against any bank robbers with super-strength. Just strange weapons, like heatrays and cold guns and magic wands."

Mel leans back, smirking.

"Firstly, never held up a bank.

"Secondly, I never used strength to fight cops. Much. The trick is to never get caught in the act to start with. A powerful enough zap'll knock even me out long enough to be dragged off."

"You never robbed a bank? But that's where the money is!" He thinks he's being clever, quoting a 20th century bank robber likely forgetton by histroy.

"Wait. Do you still have money? Or just electronic credits?

"Either way, you're smarter than the guys I used to fight. But then they wore silly costumes to match mine and nnated the attention. I was never sure what would happen if I just went away for a while. Whether they'd all quit, or whether they would sink into the underground and become more of a danger."

She eyes him at the reference. Being used to missing Mikey's cultural references, however, she lets it slide.

"They use credits in the uppers. In the lowers, we like to keep a few secrets. I get paid in solids."

She grins at being called smart.

"Not in it for the attention. In it for the money."

And the fun. Don't forget the fun.

"Yeah, as long as there is an underground economy, there has to be something real." Never mind, he thinks, things like jewels and other valuables.

"Still, bet it would have been interesting, trying to catch you." Barry will never admit it, but the bad guys weren't the only ones looking to play the game.

"Musta been," Mel says with a grin. "Erin certainly seemed to enjoy tryin' ta pin stuff on me."

Barry wonders about how strange a family dynamic that must be, the with the thief, the cop and the vampire. That goes high on the list of Things Not to Discuss.

"And did she ever catch you?"

"Once," Mel says. "But Gunther ratted me out. Said he thought I'd be safer from Harth in the cell.

"Didn't work."

"Can't imagine that would work." Not when it came down to Slayer vs. Vampire more than Thief vs. Cop, at any rate.

Barry takes one last strip of bacon. "I think I will head out to the lake, and see if I can get my skaterug to behave. Have a good one, Mel."

"Later, Flash," Mel grins.

"Mel! Hiya." Steph slips into the seat across from her and snitches a bit of pancake without asking. "Can you really eat all that?"

"Hey," Mel lets her take the pancake, because food is, after all, for sharing.

"Course I can. I eat a lot."

"You're not worried about getting fat? I guess you'd work it off pretty quick. This is an awesome pancake."

Mel looks down at herself.

"I could do with some flesh on me," she points out.

"You ever been really hungry, y'stop worryin' about gettin' fat."

"That's true," Steph says, thoughtfully. "When Dad was in prison I was never watching my weight, 'cause we were lucky to have anything. 'S only when we had enough food that I said no to it."

She takes another bite of pancake, pondering this.

Mel nods.

"When my dad was around, I wasn't too worried about my wieght. Remember Erin could be, though. Then, things went to hell and I'd eat what I could."

"Who's Erin?" Steph enquires, "and ... what did your dad do?"

"My sister," Mel says. "Ten years older than us. Looked after us after he died. Got killed by a ganga pumps in a mugging."

"Oh." Steph rests her chin on her hands. "...bugger. You couldn't - couldn't save him? I mean, with the Slayer stuff? That must have sucked."

Mel frowns.

"I was eight," she says slowly. "Didn't find out about it until Erin said he hadn't come home."

Steph reaches over the table to hug her quickly, ignoring the breakfast in the way and thus getting syrup on her sleeve. "Ouch."

Mel hugs back, and grins a little.

"Thanks, Steph."

"My dad's dead, too," Steph says, "or probably. But I never ... I mean, he was a jerk. You're more like real family than he was. But I'm sorry about yours. He must have been nice."

"Yeah, sorry," Mel says, squeezing her softly. "He was... he was nice, yeah. Worked hard, tryin' to raise the three of us on his own. Never appreciated him, though."

"He'd probably be proud of you," Steph says. "If he knew. The stuff you do, that's pretty cool."

[ooc: okay to fade or slowtime? am dying of headache suddenly, need bed.]

Mel nods once.

"I like to think he would be."

[OOC: fade. But AW!]

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