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Either of my characters, "Chief" or Ezra Pahlke could potentially withstand rudeness from Julia. Jack would likely think she's funny and or call her out on stuff, situation determining. Ezra would be flustered and would attempt to reprimand her. Give them a look and see if either interests you! DM me on discord if you want to plot.

"Sounds miserable," the gargoyle asserted. She could only imagine how rough life would be having to live "under-the-table", so to speak. Her smile widened when Raine remarked that Gina had to be the first mutant she'd ever spoken to, but she said nothing in response. What could she say? You ever just met someone who was like, "You're the first redhead I've ever spoken to?" How did you... respond?

>> "I don't want to scare you, but, maybe don't go on vacation over there. This side's way better anyway."

"I don't think I'd get very far, you know, with mutations being all under-the-table over there," Gina assured her.

That settled, the gargoyle shrugged her shoulders and sighed, "So... uh... about that... releasing? Thing? I kinda, uh, threw my sandwich to get you... and want to get more lunch before I, like, go back to class."

This was said in the most casual and lighthearted of tones, as most of the tension between them had been released, at least from the gargoyle's side of things... Gina smiled endearingly at the other girl, her tail flicking idly.

"I think I've developed a twitch."

Brown eyes lifted from their laptop screen.

"I haven't slept in, like, two days."

"You what?"

"Well, I had a paper due, and today I have a presentation. I'm in a group with a bunch of flakes."

A laugh. "That's crazy."

Sigh. "That's finals."

Khalil bobbed his head as Poseidon spoke, shrugging his shoulders winsomely. Yes, yes, absolutely enjoying himself. Yes, the healer was wonderful. The feline golden eyes slid over Poseidon as he spoke, his polite smile breaking into a grin.

"Boss, you worry too much!" Khalil chided lightly, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I'm just outta sorts because the healer took care of the kid, first-" the kid, being Jay, "-I mean, I asked them to take care of the kid first. But she only took care of me part-way. I'm still sore."

Khalil tossed a wink at Poseidon, "Nothing a little more alcohol and some good company can't help."

Of course the demon caught Poseidon's drift. But he'd rather feign ignorance than confirm his recent... drop in exuberance. Khalil didn't fully understand it himself. At the mention of "a little more alcohol", Khalil lifted a rather iridescent beverage and raised it to Poseidon, as if to toast him.

"To your health, sir," he said, before taking a sip, "I'm gonna go see if I can't find some... lucky lady... to inflict myself upon."

And with that, the demon dismissed himself, his spade-tipped tail flicking and curling as he went.

Gina shrugged at his dismissal. Maybe he had a mom or a girlfriend who knew how to sew. Fair enough. Gina was all about righting her wrongs, but she wasn't going to be a nuisance about it. Plus, she'd already done one good turn, today, which was a lot more than most could say. She turned to continue her stroll towards Xavier's, adjusting the accessories that'd become disheveled in her spontaneous flight.

This was, conveniently, in the same direction as the dude in the wheelchair was headed. It wasn't as though Gina was trying to follow him. She was walking to Xavier's, he was rolling in the same general direction. Apparently the dude's backpack had other ideas and toppled over, his belongings skittering free. A small, black metallic box spiraled further than the other items, coming to a halt against the talons of one of Gina's feet.

Gina stooped down, picking the device up off of the pavement and wiping it on her leg. She sauntered towards him. She picked up the books while she was at it, too. The guy had already been clear about not wanting her help with mending the bag, but that didn't mean she wouldn't help him otherwise.

“Hey,” Gina said casually, holding the collection of personal belongings out for the taking, “Here. I think… I got a plastic bag here somewhere… then your sh** won't fall out all over the place.”

Once the books were back in the guy's possession, Gina unclasped her messenger bag and began to rummage through it.

Very little was said in response to Wild Dog's remark. The bartender smirked, Khalil shrugged and let his companion have his fun, and that was that. It was probably all a ploy to get better tips, anyways. Milk the thirsty patrons for everything they had. That kind of thing. And Khalil, who was very prone to flirting when he wasn't on the job (and sometimes, when he was on the job) wasn't about to tell his friend how to live his life. Khalil couldn't distinguish between the sundry of smells and sounds. His eyes did most of the work, flicking between faces in the crowd.

Even in their short time on this side of the Rift, Poseidon had been making quite the reputation for the Syndicate. If everyone on the filthy criminal underbelly didn't know Poseidon and his associates already, they knew of them. Some people liked them, others merely collaborated with them-- and there were those that hated them. Such was the nature of holding power.

Khalil caught the eye of a Latino dude with toussled hair. Hm? Why was he looking this way? Was he a connection. Khalil's free hand slipped over the handle of his gun. The Latino dude looked away. Maybe it was a coincidence. Khalil continued looking. Someone else met his gaze, a girl with a shaved head, quite the chest, and chiseled arms. She had a really nice bone structure.

Khalil raised the highball to his lips, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down. The woman got up. The demon pointedly cleared his throat, gaze flicking towards Wild Dog before back towards the woman before them. This hadn't... exactly been the kind of person he'd envisioned when he'd imagined their "connection". Maybe he was mistaken, perhaps she was "selling her services" at the club.

"Hey," the woman greeted, placing one hand upon the table, "You look like the type of guys who like a potluck."

She was the one. Huh. Guess it took all sorts to run a seamy criminal underbelly.

"Yeah," Khalil said coolly, "I make a mean ambrosia salad."

The lady smirked and took a seat.

"Shall I order you a drink?" Khalil purred.

"Don't push your luck, we're here on business." The lady reached into her clutch, and set a manilla shipping envelope on the table. Khalil reached across the table, opening the envelope to survey the contents. A fat roll of 100's was inside. The demon man smiled, pulling the wad of cash out. He fanned the money, replaced it into a fireproof money bag, and sealed it. This bag was then pocketed.

"We'll be in-touch," the demon man assured the woman in front of him. For better or for worse-- if they continued business, or if Poseidon came to collect money that he was shorted... they'd be in-touch.

The word of thanks was all but intoned. Gina heard him before she saw him. Her eyes meet the bag’s owner. He was in a wheelchair. God, what an absolutely sh**ty thing to do. But Gina supposed that a thief would think someone in a wheelchair was an easy target. Quietly, Gina wondered if she should've dropped the dude in principle.

“No problem,” the gargoyle beamed, chipper as ever, “I knew I could catch him, so I figured, ‘Why not?’ “

That was the thing about Gina-- contrary to appearances, she was all sugar and sweetness once she opened her mouth. And she was very quick to dispel any assumptions someone stuck to her appearance. She unfastened her hold on the bag, extending them towards the dude. The tearing was quiet, but her ears twitched at the sound, picking it up.

“Sh**.”

It happened more than Gina cared to admit, mostly with her own clothes, and as the result of her own carelessness. Usually the gargoyle took the time to mend the tears, except when it came to jeans, which bore tears well. This was a first, though-- in snatching the bags back from the bag-snatcher, Gina had all but ripped the dude's backpack open.

“My bad.”

>> “It’s fine, I can take it from here.”

Gina's mouth formed a ponderous slash. It didn't sit right with her, to cause a problem and then not repair it--even if said problem was the result of being very helpful.

“Hey man, I could totally, like, stitch those holes up,” Gina interjected despite the guy's prior statement, “I'm studying to be a seamstress.”

The bags were already in his lap, however, so it was his call.