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>>"A Rusty Nail, huh? Well, if it was good enough for the Rat Pack, why not?"

Roxie grinned, watching as the man ordered his new drink. Seriously it was up to him if he wanted to subject his body to that, she wasn’t one to tell people what to do (when it wasn’t outlined in her job description, that is). So she remained silent, casting her gaze out upon the dance floor, eyeing a few people carefully who seemed close to causing a problem but, for the most part, just ignored them and allowed them to continue on. That was good. She’d rather talk to something interesting anyways than play everyone’s mother.

>>"Not distracting you from your job with my beardy weirdo routine, am I? You're either very patient or very polite; I haven't figured out which one it is, yet."

She snorted as she turned, giving him a slight glance over her shoulder. ”You saying I don’t seem the type to be polite?” Sure she was brash some (most) of the time but that didn’t mean she was some uncultured swine. Though, in truth, that didn’t seem to be Jacky’s point; it was more self-deprecating than anything else. It was a quality that made her crack another smile. ”You’re not distracting me,” she said, her full attention shifting forward again. ”I’m pretty adept at multitasking.”

As a former dancer, she had to be able to multitask. to move with precision, as well as keep an eye on her surroundings, her fellow dancers, and the scenery. It was just something that was a part of her. She could do her job and spend time with someone who was actually turning out to be rather interesting. It was a welcome distraction from the kind of night that she was having.

>>"Wow, that's decent whisky."

A confirming nod followed, one seemed to say “See? I told you…” without the use of words. Roxie turned to cast another glance out to the dancefloor but stopped when someone approaching the bar seemed to be gearing to start sh!t. She heard the sound of the guitar being nudged and, while it was rude, it wasn’t a severe enough to cause her to act. But, before she could fully ignore the exchange, the nasty voice and the sneering comment pulled her back.

>>"Which ****head brought a guitar in here?"

>>"Howdy friend, that's me. The ****head."

She arched her brow. The guy was definitely a douche. Jacky seemed to be taking the altercation in stride though so, so long as he wasn’t bothered, there was no reason for her to get involved. Still, she took a careful second to eye the moron before shifting her attention, cautiously, back to her drinking friend.

>>"So where you from, Roxanne?"

”Olympia, Washington originally…” she commented. She finally looked away from the privileged jack*** and smirked to her bearded companion. ”...moved out here several years ago. Wanted to get away from the small town life, I suppose.”

>>"Pleased to meet ya."

It was a cordial greeting, the kind that she wasn’t all together used to her in profession. Most of the time it was either catcalls or leering eyes. Once in a blue moon someone greeted her with kindness but usually it was after a sh!t night and Roxie wasn’t in the mood to play nice. However, Jacky had managed to catch her on one of those rare nights where she wasn’t running her knuckles through glistening, broken glass. That was enough to earn him a slight smile and further conversation.

Her eyes swept over the dance floor and the darkened corners around the bar. She wasn’t ignoring her newfound friend, but rather she was taking the opportunity to actually do her job and ensure that everything was secure. People were dancing, laughing, nudging against one another. There was one woman was was grinding just a little too hard with any man or woman who was in her vicinity but her friends had finally managed to pull her off the dance floor; they were sober enough to know what would happen. Grateful that she wouldn’t have to lose her play at the bar, she lifted her glass for another sip and moved from patron to patron. So far all was in the clear -- at least enough to allow her a glance back to her comrade.

He really did look like he was a hipster. It was the first thought that came to mind when she saw him but even then it didn’t quite fit. The beard wasn’t as meticulously combed and waxed into odd shapes to truly be the ironic wear of such a person. Jacky actually looked like the quinestial image of ‘The Wanderer’; it was as if he had stepped out of the dictionary from under that moniker. He embodied the image that so many others only tried to imitate, either ironically or from praise. It was...intriguing.

>>"Folk Hero I'm not too sure about, but I'm afraid the look's about as authentic as it can be when it comes to the rest. Sorry to disappoint. I still probably shower more than your typical hipster, if that's any consolation to you…”

She snorted. She really didn’t know what was with hipsters and soap. ”Thank god for that,” she said with a grin. ”Otherwise I’d have to chuck you outta here for offenses against the nose.”

Another sip and she sighed. Her drink was done. Still, she wasn’t in a rush to make her rounds, not when she could see everything so clearly. Setting her glass on the bar behind her, she didn’t signal for another and instead continued to survey until she heard the sound of change jingling. A turn of her head and Jacky was counting out a handful of coins and crumpled bills.

>>”So in the interest of trying to stay looking interesting, what fine, fascinating beverage would the lady recommend to the tune of say... ten dollars, forty-five cents? You could even cut yourself another drink in if you're feeling thrifty enough."

She watched him for a moment and then turned her head back to the dance floor. ”Rusty Nail is pretty good,” She turned, this time facing him, one elbow resting on the bartop. ”Then again, you know what they say about ‘beer before liquor’. In that case they have some darker microbrews if you’re interested.” She shrugged her shoulders. ”But it’s up to you. Just don’t get sick on my dancefloor.”

Roxie met a lot of people in life but she rarely met anyone in these circumstances. She had met mutants before but they were usually drunken louts who didn’t know that they couldn’t hold their liquor. Yeah, clubs and bars didn’t provide her with the best examples of people to introduce herself to, unless the introduction had to do with her fist meeting their cheek.

Thankfully this wasn’t one of those situations. Instead she had run across an actual hero when she was simply trying to lend a hand. Gawain, as he introduced himself, turned out to be a rather nice guy. He was brave, selfless, and to be quite honest he wasn’t hard on the eyes. His words, however, carried with them the sheer tone of someone who lived their lives for this kind of thing. Unlike Roxie, who acted in situations that she came across, Gawain was a hero by choice -- and a well known one at that.

While most would have been somewhat starstruck, Roxie wasn’t It wasn’t her style to be. Instead she just took his hand and shook it, rather firmly, a reminder that she wasn’t some starry-eyed fangirl, or a damsel in distress. Despite that last bit, she held her own in that towering inferno, to the point that she got people out on her own and with only a few minor injuries. For her, that was pretty good.

>>"Nice to meet you, Roxie. Thanks for the help...So, are you on any... uh, official team, or did you just happen to be walking by?"

She nodded, loosening her grip on Gawain’s hand, retracting it and sighing as she planted her palms into the floor and leaned back. At his thanks Roxie nodded her head; again, she was only too happy to help when the situation asked it of her. Another roll of her neck and Roxie set her eyes forward, staring at the crumbling building. When Gawain spoke up again, he seemed to be dancing around a question before he finally managed to spit it out -- and it made her laugh.

Smirking, she turned her gaze towards him, eyebrows lifted in amusement. ”Just walking by,” she admitted with a grin. ”Trust me, I don’t belong to some lame group like the Revengers or the Custodians of the Cosmos.” Chuckling she tossed her hair over her shoulder. ”I see a problem and, if I can do something about it, I do. Just who I am, I guess.”

It was a pretty impressive landing. Now that her adrenaline was beginning to wane, she could feel the slight shake in her limbs from how much she exerted herself. But above that she could feel her strength returning to her. Now that she was out of the burning building, she could feel the durability of the city around her. This wasn’t the best kept part of town but it was close enough to make her feel strong again. The sinews of her muscles were becoming firm but in a way it almost made her ankle feel worse. She sighed. She was going to have a limp for a little bit.

Watching the X-Man, she smirked. She was glad that he was able to find another person in the building and really hoped that it was the last one. The thought that they could have left anyone behind was almost a little too much to bear so she would make sure to be out of the area before the rescue crews started their grisly search. She wouldn’t forgive herself if others had been left behind.

But she wasn’t going to be negative so soon. For the time being she would count this as a victory. They had rescued people and that was all that mattered.

>>"Well, I didn't see yours, but I'll go out on a limb and guess you didn't stick the superhero pose either...Super strength doesn't come with durable bones, huh?"

She snorted when the hero limped over and took an exhausted seat at her side. The ambulance jolted at the sudden addition of more weight but it wasn’t as if the paramedics were going to shoo them away. They just literally ran into a burning building and risked their lives to save others.

Roxie glanced to the hero sighed. ”Oh I landed it,” she corrected. ”But my ankle didn’t think it was as cool as it was.” She gestured to her bandaged joint. She wasn’t always the most open when it came to discussing her powers, but she would ignore her discomfort for now. ”I am durable...but it depends. For some reason my strength, resilience, it depends on the city around me. The building we were in was falling apart, hence, when I jumped out, my powers were weak. But, I should be okay now.”

There was nothing wrong with sharing her abilities with an X-Man. After all, it wasn’t as if she could deny she was a mutant now. As she stared ahead, she turned only when he began to introduce himself.

>>"Gawain. They call me Mirror in the field. You can guess why."

She smirked. Then she took his hand to shake. True to her explanation, he would feel the tight squeeze she gave his hand. ”Roxanne,” she greeted. ”Though most just call me ‘Roxie’.”

Roxie was limping. Her ankle was hurt but she knew that it wouldn’t last too long. She had twisted it worse before. It would heal, with time. While she was pretty durable, if her powers were weakened by neighboring structures, then yes, she was as vulnerable as anyone else. That was a problem with her power. If she were harmed when she didn’t have her increased strength, then she simply needed to wait and let her body heal up like a normal person. It was probably one of the only “normal” things about her. Of course it was.

After landing incorrectly outside of the building, Roxie limped away, letting the paramedics deal with the man and his dog. Pulling the scarf down from her mouth, she breathed in the (semi) clean air for a second before she descended into coughing. The fabric had done what it could but there was only so much smoke it could have filtered out. Another hearty cough and already she could feel paramedics trying to lead her away. However, she stubbornly refused to move, instead keeping an eye out for the X-Man.

In order to get them to shut up, and not punch their faces in, Roxie finally agreed and took a careful seat on the back bumper of an ambulance. She let them check her vitals, marvel at how resilient her skin was, and generally look at one another completely stumped. It was clear that they didn’t deal with many mutants. However before she make any said comments, she was startled by the sudden movement out of the corner of her eye as someone barreled across the ground with another person in tow.

>>"Ugh... Owww...."

She breathed a small sigh of relief. It was the hero and he was fine. Shaking her head, she arched her brow, watching as he managed to move onto his feet. It was quite the heroic save but clearly he was a bit worse for the wear himself. Still, he didn’t look as bad as she was feeling so there was probably room to throw a few jabs his way; just for kicks.

”I give that landing a four…” she said with a smirk. ”...Maybe a five. I’ll throw in an extra point since you were trying to protect a civilian.”

Roxie landed with a thud but she barely registered any discomfort from it. She was too used to leaping high and landing hard, it was as familiar to her as one of the many dance moves that she practiced back when she was a teenager. However now it wasn’t near as elegant and sweet as it used to be. Now it was something with power behind it. She was unharmed by the motion and therefore easily set the young woman on the ground, much to her bewilderment.

The woman, June, seemed confused for the most part. She eyed Roxie suspiciously before she worked out a far more important detail -- she wasn’t harmed.

>>"I... You aren't hurt?"

Roxie shook her head. ”Nope.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she kept her eye on June for a moment, wondering how the other was going to process all this. Was she new to the city? Even so, mutants were pretty much common knowledge these days, nothing to be overly surprised about. But, as she observed the woman, Roxie could tell that she wasn’t all together normal herself. Her hands. The asphalt. It was an image she was too used to seeing -- but usually only on herself. What was that all about?

>>"I'm- I was supposed to be at work. I just came over from the other side of the rift. I don't even have a place to shower."

The rift. That had been making the headlines recently. A hole in spacetime that lead to another world. Really it sounded like something out of a TV show; a cheesy one at that. But it was happening, everyday. People coming through checkpoints as if they were flying in from another town. In a way they were -- only the town was from a completely different universe. Talk about freaky.

As Roxie mused on this, she didn’t expect the other girl to get so...friendly. Already their clothes were ruined so there was no need to be upset by it. Still, it wasn’t high up on her bucket list to hug another sewage-covered woman.

>>"You're going to help me clean up."

Roxie snorted. ”You make it sound like I don’t have a choice.” She sighed, eyed her for a second, and then just shrugged her shoulders. ”Come on.” She guessed it was the least she could do to show hospitality for her side of the mishap. So, trudging along, she led the way back to her shotty apartment, each step resounding with a greasy and foul-smelling squish, squish, squish.

The life of a freelance bouncer was probably not as exciting as you would think. Did she have to raise her voice? Yes. Did she have to try to look hard? Yes. Was she able to grab someone by the seat of their pants and eject them from clubs and bars much to the surprise of others? Hell yes. But for as exciting as that sounded, A.) it wasn’t every night, most tended to calm down after a scathing look; and B.) it was actually pretty boring. Roxie could feel the level of her strength and durability the second she walked into whatever establishment she was working. She knew what she would be able to handle when she clocked in and, usually, it was more than enough.

Things grew tedious. It was to the point where she began to wonder why it was that she put this upon herself everyday. Why bring herself this much annoyance? Really, she only fought to defend herself (and when she was drunk off her ass), making a quasi-profession didn’t seem up her alley. Then again, it paid well for something that only asked her to use her natural born gifts. That was what kept her going back -- the money. It was hard to not look in the mirror and see a sellout.

But, self-loathing aside, Roxie still went out and did her job, much the same as she was doing tonight.

The Grail Club was one of those pop-up clubs that liked to temporary rent out space in closed department stores in the bad parts of town. Roxie knew when she walked down the streets that her abilities wouldn’t be at their peak. Dilapidated buildings, unmaintained infrastructure, she could feeling her powers waxing and waning every every block that she passed. Thankfully the Grail Club was located in a recently closed down grocery market that used to specialize to a more ethnic community. It still had good bones and was cared for well-enough by the previous owners, it was simply that they couldn’t afford the space any longer. How long before this was turned into another parking structure or corporate hub?

Walking inside, she was glad to know that tonight’s shift would entirely take part in-doors. She job was simple, to roam the interior, keep an eye out for any troublemakers, and remove those who would deem to do so. Really it couldn’t have been an easier paying gig. The only downside was the unforgivable caveat that drinking wasn’t allowed “on duty”. Most clubs tended to be like that, but there have been times when the smaller, pop-up businesses would allow it. Hell, they would try to work it into their hiree’s pay so that less cash had to change hands. But, alas, The Grail Club was one of those places with sticks firmly up their backsides.

Ah well. She’ll just have to deal with it. It was better than being home by herself anyways. There was always the option of stalking the streets for any would-be criminals or seeking a new bedmate for the night, but she was sure that neither of those options would do well for her demeanor -- or her already waning sense of self-worth.

So far the night had been pretty easy. She showed up, dressed in a cheap, black pantsuit, along with a white shirt underneath and a tie. Added with her dark glasses and the leather gloves on her slender hands, the woman certainly looked the part of the bouncer despite her short stature. However the legs of her pants flared out into a bell-bottom type design that helped cover the fact that she was wearing flip-flops (they wouldn’t let her work without shoes), a clear violation of the ‘badass-bouncer’ persona. Still, she had enough bite to match her bark should the evening call for it.

The only incident to really occur was a few moments ago, when a drunken twenty something began to spout of less than desirable rhetoric to anyone who would listen. It got to the point where he was clearly annoying his fellow clubbers, to the point where he seemed ready to start a fight. The second his fists, and a drunken slur, went up, Roxie was one it. Grabbing him by the collar, she dragged him by the back of his shirt, ignoring his shouts to be released, and unfazed by the blows he attempted to land on her. As a matter of fact, the harder he hit her, the sorer his fists got, even so much as for him to realize it through his drunken haze.

“What’reYOU?” he belched incoherently. Luckily Roxie was fluent in Drunken Slobberese.

Roxie rolled her eyes as she pushed open the side door. ”Annoyed,” she grumbled. She pushed him out into the sidewalk and flagged the other part-time bouncer at the front door. ”Make sure he gets into a cab, please.”

Roxie retreated once the other bouncer nodded and walked over to secure the drunken man. Closing the door behind her, the city mutant turned, adjusted the sleeves of her jacket, and made her way back towards the perimeter of the dance floor. God, she could really use a drink now...