Moment of Awesome - Warren Worthington/Angel: Warren joins in on a boys' night out for the recently broken-up-with Scott Summers with his own brand of 'cheering up'.
"Warren Worthington the III at your service. " Warren whipped off his sunglasses and looked critically at the table in front of him. Having been in the general vicinity when Arthur was making these plans, Warren naturally assumed his invitation world be forthcoming. After all, how could one completely obliterate painful memories without a night full of debauchery?
But then no one invited him to go and that wouldn't do either. Thinking of where the most boring trio ever would go (Warren strongly believed Scott's monotonous nature was contagious), he went to Kirby's and thank goodness he had.
"This table doesn't have enough hookers and blow for what we need to do. Scott, I hear you're nursing heart break. That sucks. I have uppers for that. "
Warren's unerring ability to spontaneously manifest directly behind Jim struck again. The telepath almost choked on a tot.
"Warren?" Jim gasped after managing to clear his airway. He added, even more shocked, "You know about places in this tax bracket?"
It definitely was a gross move of place. Warren had already told himself he'd throw out these shoes afterwards but he wouldn't let anyone else know that.
"I'm an excellent detective. I can sniff out desperation like nobody's business. So Scott," Warren pointed at a group of women, "that blonde there? Easiest one in the group. The one in the jean jacket looks sweet but those buttons... well buddy, if she hits you with her jacket... Mini skirt could go either way."
Warren seemed to have an uncanny ability to just appear whenever mansionites gathered to drink. It was like he had Kurt's powers of teleportation, one minute clear and the next the man appeared as if from out of thin air. The X-Man reached over to pluck a paper napkin from the container, passing it to Haller as his eyes flicked to the bar before back to Warren before he nodded at a free seat in their booth. "The voice of experience talking huh? If it's all the same, I'd rather avoid grievous bodily injuries when it comes to bars, unless it's for something a little more enjoyable than someone doing their best matador impression."
Arthur moved over to make room for Warren, idly tracing circles on the glass of his own drink. "A bar fight would be a twist in our plans, but I'd wager the mood here is definitely more Cheers than Road House or Cocktail. But," he winked, "if that's what the man of the hour wants." The joke was underscored as he cracked his knuckles with only a shot's worth of drama.
Jim gave Scott a dubious look. The idea of the older man engaging in an unprovoked brawl seemed just as likely as the prospect of him taking Warren up on his offer of wingman'ing -- which was to say, nil.
Then again, what did Jim know? He wasn't fun. Thank god.
"Well, it's your call," he said aloud. "Warren does have the money to afford bail . . ."
"If he's got the money for bail, then he's got the money for something a little more fun than picking up strange women at the bar who might just be a shapeshifter in disguise. Don't ask, it's happened to the mansion more than a few times." A hand reached out for the beer as Scott lifted it to his lips, chugging what was left of his drink. "We could retire to somewhere a little more...in line with the mood."
"I don't know what the mood is though," Warren replied exasperatedly. "That's what I'm trying to gather. Is it hookers? Drugs? Alcohol? Or do you want to feel like a king for an evening? Fuck, if all you want is 1000 different pizzas, we could make that happen too. I just need limits, we all know this. You can't give me carte blanche."
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