He shrugged back, noncommittally, “You both check out, that’s where my job ends.” He confirmed, before walking back to his lurking spot to watch for any trouble.
The woman ends up pulling her phone out of her bag, glancing at the time before setting it on the table. Great, I probably look like a creep, she thought darkly, staring at the far wall. Good luck getting a picture now. She takes another sip of her drink, lost in thought.
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Gideon returned his license. “Well, the floor is yours. What do you think you’ll try first?”
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She held up a finger indicating she wanted a wait. Turning towards Lauren, she folding a paper airplane and sent it straight into the girls drink.
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Starting in surprise, Lauren glances at Adelaide, raising an eyebrow. She retrieves the plane from her drink, taking a moment to examine it as she debates whether or not to throw it back.
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Gideon leaned back, unsure whether to chastise Adelaide or to start laughing. The two emotions were still playing with each other as Lauren examined the airplane.
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It quickly folded itself into a paper fortune teller. Albeit blank. A light radiance of life seemed to come from the dripping paper. A gift?
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The… interesting exchange turned more than a few heads, even in this place. The blue demon of course watched on like a hawk, in case this was a paper-girl’s way of initiating a magical bar fight (the last thing he needed when Rook had him working Saturdays), among others who were just curious observers. This included the short hairy individual from before, who on closer inspection appeared to be a chimpanzee.
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Lauren’s head lilts sideways, her eyes narrowing in confusion.
“…wha?” she murmurs in confusion. On a whim, she shifts her grip on the fortune teller, holding it it from underneath. She opens and closes the folded paper, unsure of what she expects to happen next.
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The power resisted her grip as if it were writhing in pain. Adelaide buries her faced into her arms sighing. She peered over and waved over. “Hey nitwit. Just come over already.” God I should’ve used magic paper for something cool, ugh.
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Oh brother.
Gideon nudged himself with his elbow to reconfirm he did in fact have his firearm on him.
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Lauren lets go of the paper as it begins to squirm, a gasp escaping from her.
Lauren laughs, nodding. She cradles the paper in one hand, scooping up her drink with the other and taking the open seat next to Adelaide.
“Hey, you uh… dropped this?” She smiles weakly, offering the paper back to Adelaide.
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She grinned, waving it away. “Keep it. Consider it a gift.”
Turning to the bartender, she piped up cheerfully. “Can I get something fruity?” Adelaide grasped a packet of laminated paper in her hand.
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Gideon glanced in his wallet. My bank account is going to be rushed to the emergency room when we’re done here.
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“How generous of you.” She sets the paper on the bar in front of her, watching for a moment to see if it’ll continue moving. I wonder… She brushes the thought aside for the moment.
“I’m Lauren, by the way. Sorry for all of that.” She waves one hand back across the room. “Usually I’m not that much of a ditz. Still not used to this place, I guess.” She shrugs sheepishly.
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The bartender glances over, taking on a warmer air, “Of course, coming right up.” He smiles, cobbling together a pineapple mojito and sliding it over, “That’ll be $10.”
The bot struggles a moment, trying at first to pull its leg out by force, and then switching tactics to hacking away at the ice with its free arm. For the time being though, it’s stuck. The choppers hover overhead, holding their fire for now. If these heroes could stop the robot and get the tech back in one piece, that was all good in their eyes.
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She started sipping, a wet spot appearing underneath her chin. Adelaide frowned at the revelation and buried her head into her arms. Her shoulders slouched and her legs crossed. “This sucks. I really can’t drink huh.”
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Gideon placed a 20 on the counter with an air of resignation.
…Which faded relatively quickly as it became obvious she wouldn’t be ordering anymore. He opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t think of anything to say.
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The bartender is similarly lost for words, and decides it might just be best to go back to his glass-cleaning until somebody else asked for something.
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A brown-haired man in a black suit with a full set of angelic wings flies to the bar. He takes a seat, nodding at the barkeep.
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