2013-10-03 - A Number is Worth a Thousand Words

Chaney's. Famous for, if nothing else, being an openly friendly meta-human bar. A place where the freaks and geeks can go, and not worry about getting hassled, or hussled. And, place where the staff, including it's owner - one Grace Choi, doesn't take BS from anyone. Or let any fights break out, they end as quickly as they start. And, right now it's owner is leaning against a backwall, surveying several odd colored, and/or extra appendaged fellows attempt to win their money back from a talking gorilla who seems quite brilliant - it's not Grodd. She also has a beer in her hand, as she surveys, making sure people are behaving. And, looking just a touch bored. But that, with Grace, isn't likely to last very long.

Power Girl walks into the bar calmly. She peers about the bar as quite a few patrons turn to gawk at the blonde woman. The Kryptonian seems unperturbed by the stares, she gets that alot, as she strides up to the bar and perches on one of the empty stools.

Blue eyes focus on the woman behind the bar as she reaches into a small pocket hidden on the inside of a glove, producing a wad of money, "Can I get a screwdriver?"

The bartender is a skinny, frail man, the sort that a lot of women might claim they could break in half. But then, he seems to move oddly, with the sort of duplicitous movement that suggests he's about to do something just outside the corner of your eye that you're not quite going to catch. Something -off- about it. But he prepares the drink with a grin, and a wink. Afterall, who wouldn't wink, and flirt with Power Girl if they were making her drink? And, it doesn't take Grace long to notice the Kryptonian, either. She's only ever had two in her bar, now. And the first one wasn't old enough to drink. She pushes her rather large frame off the wall, and where others might feel to tread, or only think it wise to look but not approach, to talk about her and point if you don't think she's looking, Grace is having none of it. A few strides of her long, powerful legs and she's standing near Power Girl, offering her hand. "Welcome to Chaney's," she says, with a toothy grin. "I'm Grace."

Power Girl pays the bartender, smiling at the old man attempting to flirt her. She takes a sip of the orange juice and vodka, turning her gaze from the bartender to the woman and her offered hand. After what appears to be a moment of consideration she takes Grace's hand in her own gloved one, giving a firm handshake. "I'm Power Girl. Thanks for the welcome, Grace. This place belong to you?"

While certainly no Kryptonian, Grace has a rather firm handshake; but then, she looks like she's built for it. "Something like that. Bounced it for awhile, saved up some cash, and bought it from the original owner when he got tired of it. Steal." She withdraws her hand, "Though sometimes people can get rowdy, they need somewhere to go." She shrugs, briefly. Then, she grins, a dangerous, rogue sort of smile. "Besides. It's kind of fun, breaking up the fights. Gives me an excuse to either punch, or throw someone. And, that always makes for a good night." She sets her empty bottle of beer on the counter, and as Power Girl's screwdriver, perfect in every way, is slid towards her, with his other hand he's sliding Grace another beer even though one wasn't there a second ago. Grace catches it, pulls off the twist-off bottlecap, "Don't get many big names around here, though. Mostly keep to themselves. Your little sister? Cousin? Was in here, not too long ago. I hit her with a streetlamp. She busted my face. Pretty fair trade, I'd say. We talked it over over some drinks."

Power Girl takes note of the strength in the woman's grip, a slight smile curving her lips. The blonde arches an eyebrow at the mention of her 'cousin', "You got into a tussle with Supergirl? That's interesting. She's normally not one to bar fight... What happened?" PG turns on the stool to face Grace, crossing a muscular leg over the other. Idily she studies the redheads tattoos with some interest.

Grace considers, "You remember the news a few months back, about that green chick they called Genocide? Where Wonder Woman got her ass handed to her? Mean n' Green turned Supergirl against me and Wonder Woman, somehow." Grace shrugs, moves her hand up to her jaw, grins, sharply. "Girl can -hit-." She chuckles. Then, noticing Power Girl's glance, she extends one arm out, "Like 'em? I get 'em done locally. At least, most of them. Always liked them, and after I broke out on my own, and had a few bills, decided to start decorating." She seems quite proud of them, even though they seem - tribal, or decorative in fashion, and aren't 'popular', or laced with words. Far more primitive. "Got a few more, but, well, if I showed them off, I'd have to get Chaney's reclassified, and add some stripper poles."

Power Girl grins slightly, looking the tattoos over more openly, "Supergirl can hit, yeah. She's me, after all. I had heard about Genocide, never got to encounter her though. Shame really. Part of me would really like to take a couple of swings at my "cousin"." She uses her fingers to make quotation marks.

"I like your tattoos. Though don't you worry what they might look like when you get older? I'd probably have one or two myself, but.." She waves a gloved at herself, "Even if you could find a needle that would work, it'd just fade away."

Grace shrugs at that, "Apparently I've got Amazon blood," she tells Power Girl, utterly non-chalantly, and unlike a lot of Amazons that Power Girl might've known previously, "So it's not a real concern. Besides, I tend to do whatever the hell I want, now. I can deal with the aftermath later. Life only comes around once. Gotta live it, can't sit on your ass and wait for it to come to you." And hey, Grace doesn't even ask about the 'she's me' comment. "A tattoo'd look good on you," Grace agrees, but chuckles. "But, I see your point." She takes a swig of her beer, "Don't suppose you can even get drunk? Or buzzed?"

Power Girl nods thoughtfully, "Well. Doing whatever the hell you want is all well and good. But if everyone did it it would be pure chaos. So I guess maybe it's good not everyone is free-spirited like you are, Grace."

She sighs and gestures to all the liqour on the wall behind the bar, "I could drink everything you got and not even be tipsy. It really does suck. Unless you've got alcohol that is magical in nature." She tilts her head to one side, considering, "I'd probably be a mean drunk anyhow." Grace Choi pages: Hi. You paged Grace Choi with 'Hi.'

Grace looks back at Power Girl. "Not here, no. I can get some, though. I know a guy who owes me a favor. But, if I get it, condition is you have to drink it with me." She grins, some, shrugs a little, "Generally, what I want to do isn't so chaotic. I'm running the bar, ain't I? Ain't the easiest thing, and I sure as hell didn't go to school for it. But someone has to keep these idiots in line, and one of the better ways to do that is to give them a hangout. Here, it don't matter if you've got a criminal record or if you shined Superman's booties. As long as you don't cause trouble, you're welcome."

Power Girl nods, "I figured this was neutral ground of some sort. I recongize a couple of the people in here." She takes a sip from her screwdriver, studying Grace as she offers the magical booze, "So. You can get magical liqour. The clause is I have to get drunk around you? You know... If you were a man, I'd be awfully suspicious about now. It almost sounds like a date type of situation."

Grace is not good at feigning innocence. Thus, she doesn't try, simply asks, "Does it? Maybe it is. Only way you'll find out, for certain, however, is if you take me up on the offer." She gives a lopsided sort of sly grin, before she tips the beer bottle back to finish it off. She sets the bottle on the bar, "Besides. If I were a man I wouldn't have these." She touches her boobs on either side, "And I do rather like them. Without them, none of my clothes would fit right."

Power Girl chuckles softly, looking down at her own breasts, "Yeah. I rather like mine too. Obviously..." She bites her bottom lip thoughtfully before responding further, "Alright. What can it hurt? I haven't had a good drink in a long time."

"Reggie, get me a pen and a couple cards." The bartender produces them, almost at the same time Grace asks him for it, seeming not only to move fluidly, quickly, but have a sense of intuition about him. No wonder why she keeps him on as a bartender. One card she hands to Power Girl, has the bar's name, and under it: Grace Choi Owner and lists a different number next to her name. "Usually for only business folks only, that's my private number." She flips the other card over, "You got a number I can call you at, when the stuff comes in?" Gotta give Grace props, she's not either showing nervousness, or excitement. Casual, and unaffected, but at least showing interest in the turn of events. She adds, "Had the stuff. Once. That's how I know he has it." Power Girl reaches over, taking the pen from Grace's fingers. PG is either being a flirt, or having fun, because she takes Grace by the wrist and writes her private number on the palm of her hand, underlining it twice. "There a new, temporary tattoo for you. A ton of people would die and come back to get that number.. Lucky you." She lets go of Grace's wrist and laughs softly, taking another sip of her drink.

"Careful, or I might make it permenant," threatens, or promises Grace. "Then I can tell everyone that I'm getting into fights, everyday, about you." She stares at the number for a moment, "Not so good at punching ghosts, though. Pretty decent with zombies. They splatter." Then, Grace smirks. "So, do you prefer people to call you Power? Or Girl?" Maybe she's having fun, too. Or flirting. Or, both.

Power Girl raises a broad shoulder in a shrug, "Zombies and robots are good to fight. I don't have to hold back all that much or worry about killing them." She wraps gloved hands around her bare knee, pondering, "Well. The going nickname is PG. It seems to be a term of affection from most people, so you can call me that if you want."

Grace laughs, "I just go by Grace. No costume. No fancy codenames. What you see is what you get." And, as if to emphasize this, she spreads both her long arms out to her side. "PG it is, then. I'll probably have it in a week, maybe less. " She ponders a moment, chuckles, low and ventures, "I don't suppose you go in much for motocycles? That whole - flying thing just seems a little more fun."

Power Girl smiles, "I envy you. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to go by a hero name, that I didn't have to hide stuff. But... Well, some of us don't have that luxury I suppose." She tilts her head, "Motorcycles? Sure, I've rode on them before. Flying is awesome. Though I enjoy riding things too." PG takes a sip of her drink, then suddenly seems to realize what she said mid-swallow. She glances at Grace, "Uh. You know what I mean."

"Mmhmm," Grace agrees, with a rather broad grin. "I certainly do. But that doesn't stop the natural progression of thought," she points out. "Besides. A little riding is good for a girl, every now and then." She glances again at the number inked on her wrist, "But, I really ought to go make sure the order's done for next week. Y'know. Get all the crap out of the way. Be all, responsible and shit." She makes a face. But, her eyes seek PG's own. "But, expect my call, soon. And, good thing you said yes. I don't take no for an answer," she teases, blowing a kiss to the Kryptonian.

Power Girl smiles slightly at Grace, "I'll be waiting for your call then. I suppose I should get back to my patrol. Haven't flown over Russia yet." She takes the screwdriver and gulps it down, setting the glass aside after she is done. "It's fun when they dispatch jets and try to shoot me down."

"I bet." Grace grins, then shakes her head, "This is one date," yes, she just called it a date, officially, "I'll be looking forward to. Try at least to make them think they have a chance. Don't want to crush their spirits all at once," she offers, by way of advice. Power Girl stands up, "I do sometimes. But they shouldn't keep trying to fire missiles up my ass all the time. Starting to get a first name basis with the pilots." PG heads for the door, many of the eyes in the bar following her, either intently or trepidatiously. As she reaches the door she turns back to wave at Grace, "Nice bar you got here. Call me." With that she is out the door faster than the eye can follow, a moment later a very faint sonic boom rattles the building as she breaks the sound barrier.