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Roxie always kept her eyes open for interesting customers. Not that she mocked them, but she preferred the distraction rather than just sitting around, looking for trouble. The Stagger Inn made well enough business but it still seemed pretty slow in comparison to the bouncing jobs that she took to make ends meet. Those places were kinetic and full of energy; this place seemed more like where you go when you give up ever trying to find satisfaction in life. She loved the clientele but it was definitely not her favorite job; not unless she managed to find someone to pour her attention over and that was rare, especially now that Brick stopped coming around.

When she spotted a new person taking a seat at the bar, she automatically pushed over the bowl of nuts and pretzels, rattling off a practiced “what do you want?” but with much nicer packaging. As her eyes fell back upon the stranger, she paused and took a cursory glance. He looked rough but that was only a momentary thought -- the more prevalent was the fact that he had a rather handsome face. Adorable even.

He winced as he mulled his options over. Roxie paid closer attention. Strong body, sweet face, little banged up, all he needed was an accent and she was probably going to have a hard time concentrating the rest of the night. But Roxie merely stood by, now showing as much interest as she had by carefully cleaning the glass between her hand and the towel. It wasn’t until he began to speak that she set the glass down and slung the towel onto her shoulder.

>>"Rum and cola, if you don't mind...And a small bag of ice, if you can manage,"

She stared and then snorted. ”In a place like this? That's practically our special of the day, everyday.” Turning her back to him, she leaned down to grab a baggie from the bar’s personal stalk and filled it with a few ice cubes. As she returned to the man she handed over the baggie. ”Rough night?” she asked as she turned and began to get his drink together. What kind of bartender would she be if she didn’t converse with a handsome stranger or two?

It was odd to Roxie exactly how many of these clubs were around New York City and yet had nearly all the same clientele. She had been working as a freelancer bouncer for a couple years near, a minor job to help make the money stretch every month as well as allow a useful outlet for her abilities. Though she had to pull her punches, there was a distinct pleasure it slinging a 6’5 muscle-bound drunk over her shoulder and hailing him out the backdoor with only the swiftest of kicks to his butt. Most were either too busy partying for her to notice, or were so drunk that they would pass it off as a hallucination or babbled like madmen. Either way, Roxie didn’t fear it. So long as she didn’t break bones, she could let loose a little.

Tonight she was called to the “Prancing Po’ Knee”; some cheap knock-off themed bar based around “The Lord of the Hobbit Trek Wars” or something like that. It should have been a pretty low-key place. A few nerdy people awkwardly dancing, maybe a C&C (Caverns and Creatures) game going in one of the corner booths. But this place had such a hipster vibe that it tended to pull in the wrong intended crowd. It didn’t help that they made their drinks a bit stronger either.

Roxie sighed. She tried to dress normally in a regular black suit but management was adamant that all employees must wear something to signify them as such. Begrudgingly she slipped on the green, felt cloak with the leaf pin attached to the front. God she felt like a dork but at least it was money. So for the last two hours, Roxie has been patrolling the edges of the dancefloor, her eyes glancing between drunken faces left and right. She already had to kick out a pair of people for trying to brawl tonight but for the most part, it was pretty quiet.

There was only one annoyance she had to deal with…

“Hey! Umm...y-you know what? The…” Ahem. “...the fires of Mount Doom are not as hot as you.”

Roxie sighed and rolled her eyes. She turned to face the owner of the world’s worst pick-up line. He was shorter than her, a feat surely, and nervously looked down at a little black book where the offended phrase had been written. He wore thick glasses, had short, black hair, and wore a very cheap suit of plastic armor. She stared at him, watching as he awkwardly move from foot to foot. When he wasn’t getting the hit, Roxie leaned over and whispered firmly.

”Go away.”

“Yes ma’am!” the nerd said before he slipped away and disappeared into the crowd.

Roxie grumbled under her breath. How much longer was this shift?

The Stagger Inn. It wasn’t the best of places but it wasn’t the worst either. There were some real dive bars out there but this particular establishment had a welcome, classical nature of its own. Actually, to the random passerby, it would often be compared to that television show, Praises, about a clean neighborhood bar that was filled with regulars and comedic shenanigans occurred. It was the kind of neighborhood place that people always wanted to be a part but tended to find themselves in far worse situations. But the Stagger Inn was different in that respect. It was safe. The locals were friendly. And anyone who came in to cause trouble usually had to face the stern-faced bartender with the gloved hands.

It was Roxie’s shift tonight. She normally hated the quiet but things were a little more lively as the television in the corner blared a repeat of the latest World Cup match. Of course few, if any, of the regulars were paying attention. They were mainly sitting, staring into their drinks, unwinding after a long day or lamenting the turn of their lives. Often times this spurred on other employees to try and help them, but Roxie knew her place. She wasn’t here to solve their problems, she was here to refill their drinks until they hit their limit. Not every problem needed an answer. Sometimes it just needed a shot.

Standing behind the counter, Roxie was busy cleaning glasses. She was dressed simply in jeans and a tank top. Black,, jeweled gloves covered her hands, allowing her to expertly move the tumbler, drying its inside, and setting it upside down on a nearby rack. There weren’t a lot of patrons in tonight so some of these glasses had never been dirty in the first place. But, to give herself something to do, the ex-dancer washed them again just to change the crushing lack of anything decent to do.

One more glass set aside and Roxie wandered down the counter where a much older man in a beige jacket and a page-boy hat over his stark white hair. His thick, white mustache hid the lonesome expression on his lips as he looked between his empty glass of brandy and the lone chess set next to him. Next to the board, taking the spot in front of an empty stool, was a photograph of a woman close to his own age.

Roxie smirked warmly as she stepped up with a bottle of brandy. ”How’s the game, Dennis?”

The man snorted. “Ester’s kicking my ass, as per usual.”

Roxie grinned as she poured the man a new drink. ”What’s that? Third game in a row?”

The old man picked up knight and moved it forward. He sighed as he picked up a piece from the opposing side and took his own knight with it. “Yeah. Seems even from the great beyond she can’t let me win a match.’

A soft chuckle and Roxie winked at the man, making him promise to flag her down if he needed another. As she marched back over to the other side, she spotted a new person had taken a seat at the counter. Draping the towel over her shoulder she picked up a small bowl of nuts and pretzels, sliding it over to them. ”Evening. What can I get you?”

>>"I was a bit of a brat."

She smirked. Gawain certainly seemed like he was going to be the handful type of guy. The devil-may-care smile, the heroic disposition, it was enough to instantly make anyone think that he was trouble. Roxie could certainly see it, anyways. But it wasn’t as if the guy seemed like a total jerk. He was nice and he wanted to do the right thing. He may have been a brat before but now he was someone who ran into burning buildings and helped the innocent. However the X-Men trained their people, they certainly knew how to pull out the best in people -- at least from this example.

Despite all that, she was still a little ambivalent about joining some superhero team. Roxie tended to work best on her own. No one to tell her what was right and wrong. He she wanted to punch some guy’s face in for beating his kid, then she was going to it. That’s what made her unsure about all this -- limitations. Roxie wasn’t an egomaniac but she liked the freedom to do what she needed and live with the consequences if she had to. Hah, maybe she would form her own team made up of those who didn’t mind getting their hands dirty.

X-Force? She would make a mental note of that.

But, in the meantime, she wouldn’t say no. She was still unsure but Mirror was certainly the poster child for the X-Men. And if they could help her save more people, then it was a door she wasn’t fully going to close.

>>"I'll do you one better. You said you need to figure your powers out, right? We have the resources to do that. Come pay a visit sometime, I'll give you the tour. You don't have to be a resident, or an X-man, to come and do some power training."

Roxie mulled on this. Her expression was vacant as she stared ahead at the bar, not looking at Mirror and instead focusing on what was left of the alcohol in her glass. A few careful swirls of what was left, a sigh, and she set the glass down on the wood grain surface. Only after did she finally cast her gaze back up to meet his -- and she nodded. How could she say no to learning more about her abilities?

”Okay.” she confirmed. ”We have a deal.”

>>"What, 'Lady Metropolis' is already taken?"

Roxie snickered and nodded in an impressed manner. ”That’s not bad...if a little 1950’s superhero sexist,” she smirked. ”What’s wrong with Captain Metropolis?”

She was teasing of course and was in no way serious. She couldn’t imagine herself running around in tights and answering to some ridiculous codename. Comic books were never her thing and the current moveis she could hardly take serious. Gawain and his teammates deserved her respect, sure, but there was a difference between giving respect and donning the costume herself. It just wouldn’t happen.

So said she as much. She never had been much of a team player, not when she spent the majority of her time on her own. It was a hard lesson to learn but Roxie was firmly of the mindset that there was no one left on this planet to trust but herself.

>>"The firs time I ever visited the Mansion, I snuck in to hit on a girl...It's not like everyone starts out perfectly fit for vigilante work..."

That was probably the least surprising thing that he could have told her. Gawain seemed like the type who would do whatever it took to hit on a someone. But in his case it would turn out that his lack of boundaries led to a career of heroing. Interesting. Shaking her head, she took a sip of her drink as she continued to roll her ankle a bit more to encourage more blood flow to the strained muscles and keep them from stiffening.

”How did it work out?” she asked, taking another sip. If Mirror was going to talk, she was going to make him talk. ”You manage to get on with this girl?”

>>"Oh, is that how it is"

Roxie just smirked in reply. She liked teasing this guy. He was good for that. The pair of them had gone up against some rather impossible circumstances and they both came out of it with only the slightest bit injuries. So long as everyone was safe, then she could call it a good day. And, for her, every good day needed to be celebrated with some good drink. Now that the last of the people were being cared for, Roxie knew that she was just taking up the services of these fine people. But for Gawain, well, she supposed she could share in her successes.

So why not invite him for a drink. The bar she tended at wasn’t too far from here and they could drink their wounds away. Roxie wasn’t the kind to not take advantage of a handsome or beautiful person’s company. Maybe she was a little older than Gawain but, so what? Didn’t mean she couldn’t offer.

>>"Yeah sure let's go...So, that's what you do when you are not running into burning buildings? Help people get drunk?"

Watching Mirror agree and hop to his feet, Roxie didn’t miss the slight wince he gave when he straightened up. She couldn’t judge him, though, because as she started to stand, she winced too from her ankle. It was just a sprain and would be well soon enough. She moved through the pain, any sign of it buried under her slight grimace with every five steps. She’d suffered worse.

At Mirror’s comment, Roxie continued to lead the way to the bar and shrugged her shoulders. ”When I’m not kicking them out of nightclubs for being too rowdy,” she said, smiling over her shoulder. ”I’m a woman of many hats.”

***

The Stagger Inn. Bad pun aside, the bar was actually somewhat adequate. It wasn’t the classiest place in town but it wasn’t a complete dive either. Sure they had their few overly zealous drunks and bruhs trying to get hammered and fight anything that moved, but most of their patronage were from loyal customers who never moved from the area and saw the bar change owners and names several times over the years. Even though all that they always claimed the same seats at the counter.

Roxie strolled in with a nod to the owner who was busy doing rounds. With a slight nod to the pretty blond behind the counter, Roxie sighed as she moved behind the bar and motioned to a spot for Mirror to sit. ”Take a seat,” she said. With a sigh she started to pull up a couple of glasses and turned her back to the hero, looking over the selection. ”What’s your poison?”