Marvel, Rebirth:

IC:

"Outside of the normal?"

IC:

"My culture is conditioned to believe that all time travel is preceded by a 'vwoorp'." Alistair said seriously, taking a long sip from his drink. "It is simply an inescapable fact of the universe."

IC:

"Wouldn't point it out if it wasn't abnormal. I dig it. But it's abnormal."

IC:

Brooklyn giggled.

"Nerd."

-Tyler

IC:

"We've been hanging out for a few hours, it's late, and I consumed alcohol for the first time. Take your pick."

IC:

"I'm a historian. That was never in question."

IC:

"Bek, you had one beer." The chronokinetic bit back a laugh and turned his chin to better rest his head atop the crown of the ex-Weapon's. "I'm not exactly going to make you my plus one to Oktoberfest just yet. Also, you make all of those things sound like positive marks on my record, so if that's not what you meant, tough ."

IC:

"Name one obscure historical fact fact that would get you into my pants."

-Tyler

IC:

"I think it was two. But either way, I have never consumed alcohol before tonight. It is understandable." Rebekah's eyes rolled upwards in their sockets, as if trying to look at Dallas' face despite its location above her head. "And those statements were all intended neutrally. That you take them as positives speaks to your narcissism."

IC:

"Unfortunately, I don't think that fact exists. Unless I were to be truly witty, but that is no easy feat with history."

IC:

"All I'm hearing is 'I love you, Dallas.'"

IC:

"Say witty again. Slower this time."

-Tyler

IC:

"Narcissism at its finest."

IC:

"W i t t y."

IC:

"You think I'm the finest?"

IC:

"I told you, Jesika."

-Tyler

IC:

Rebekah was pointedly silent as she continued walking.

IC:

"Told her what, if I may ask?"

IC:

Dallas, basking in the silence that was Rebekah Fell's first known instance of non-commitment, kept walking with his somehow-drunken friend in tow until they reached his dorm. Once inside, he sat her down at the counter and then slipped behind it, moving to a tin only half-full of brownies (the dark haired woman's work) with a serrated knife.

"Don't be pouty. Most people think I'm sexy. The rest just need cataract surgery, and should be pitied for their losses."

IC:

"I told her I was en route with a steal."

-Tyler

IC:

"I am not being pouty."

IC:

"Did you, now?" The British scholar queried, sipping his drink. "Not quite the answer I was predicting."

IC:

"Surly?" Dallas teased, twirling a plastic yellow ice cream scoop like a switchblade.

-Tyler

IC:

The Ultimate leveled a long, hard stare at Dallas as he played with the ice cream scoop. And continued it silently once he started scooping ice cream, and for several more moments after that. Finally her arm extended out, plucked a brownie from the tin, and she started eating it. Defiantly.

And she kept staring.

IC:

Dallas rolled his eyes and ran a finger along the bottom of the lid; the tip came away coated in vanilla and he sucked it dry easily. 

"Never change, babe," he deadpanned, beginning to scoop out ice cream into two bowls.

IC:

"Consider yourself very welcome."

-Tyler

IC:

"I did not plan to." The ex-Weapon said, before taking a large bite of her brownie and continuing the stare. "Nor have my plans changed."

IC:

"I do."

IC:

"Attagirl. Chocolate syrup and cherry?"

IC:

Brooklyn beamed and polished off the last mozzarella stick. Finishing the rest of her beer might have done her in, though, so she turned back to the Ultimate and her lunch date and stood up.

"I'm sure that Jesika wouldn't mind if you hung out with us, Alistair. You have all day, right? You could stand to be the third wheel, couldn't you?"

-Tyler

IC:

"Skip the cherry, double the syrup."

IC:

"I think I could hang out for a while." He said, glancing at his watch to check the time. Still had hours to kill. No reason he needed to decline. "I don't need to be anywhere for quite a few more hours."

IC:

"Christ almighty, you animal. Not even a cherry? Cherry and whipped cream makes the whole thing." He topped one sundae with the aforementioned fruit and cream before drizzling the whole sundae with a healthy amount of chocolate syrup. The ice cream's counterpart in the other bowl received a much-more-than-healthy sampling of the same syrup.

"Bon appetit, ragazza."

-Tyler

IC:

"I don't judge your food choices."

IC:

"Well no, yeah, because you tend to eat the second half of all my meals yourself when I'm full."

-Tyler

IC:

take him with, keep him, you must protect him

"No objections around here," Jesika piped up, practically beaming at the exchange taking place before her. Things were, strangely enough, beginning to hold a hint of normalcy. Well, what she could assume to be normal. It felt natural, the life she saw when she looked out over the crowded streets.

"I think he's a rather nice fellow," she pulled off a passable imitation of NEEERD's accent.

IC:

"It isn't my fault you always seem about to waste food."

IC:

"You're just terrified of something edible being thrown away."

-Tyler

IC (Garima):

She was shiny.

From the gold thread wound through her hair, gleaming in the thick black braid that brushed against her back, to the various pieces of golden jewelry in her ears, eyebrow, lip and nose, to the gold border on the blood red, silken sari that draped over her left shoulder, to the talwar that hung sheathed at her side, so much of what she had chosen to wear shone like firelight as she struck a pose at the ballroom's entrance, one hand upon her sword's hilt, the other raised to the sky in a salute to everyone she'd served coffee to recently.

Alright, so peddling caffeine to Machiavellian(?) drunks wasn't her dream job, but it had gotten her into this gig, dressed to the nines and still allowed to carry a freaking sword. The guy who limped in beside her wasn't really her type, but he knew that, had known that when he limped into Starbucks and asked her to dance, and he was cool with it. It could pass, at the least, as a dream job.

IC(Drachentocht):

True to form, the spawn of the Dragon wasn't wearing a dress. Instead, she had opted for a set of black, high-waisted pants fastened with elegant brass buttons, a long black jacket in a plainly military cut with matching brass buttons, a frilly white undershirt with red trim, and shoes that could only have been made for tap-dancing. The scarlet-plumed tricorne hanging from a hat rack by the door was probably hers.

Grinning, the mercenary caught Starbucks girl's eye, and returned the salute.

IC (Cynegild):

His leg still hurt, but he looked fabulous and his liquor was safe.

IC:

"Absolutely."

IC:

"Keep working at that accent, Ms. Snow, you might get it."

IC:

"Bekah, as long as you are alive and hold a place in my heart, I'm not going to be losing any sleep about the state of food in this dorm. Swear to God."

-Tyler

IC:

"I can't really decide what to say to that."

IC:

"Thank you? I love you? Next time I'll buy the dinner from the goodness of my heart?"

-Tyler

IC:

"You aren't that lucky."

IC:

"Ouch."

Dallas pouted through a mouthful of brownie sundae.

-Tyler

IC:

The Ultimate rolled her eyes, and gave Dallas' shin a mild kick under the table.

"Don't play that card."

IC:

"Oof."

The pout grew more pronounced.

-Tyler
 

IC:

"Don't you dare."

IC:

"Dare what?"

-Tyler

IC:

"Try and pull the pout."

IC:

"I'm already pulling it. You gonna eat that sundae or do I have to pout all over that, too?"

-Tyler

IC:

Rebekah rolled her eyes again, and took a large bite of her sundae followed by a few more. "As if I would let dessert slip away from me."

IC:

"Your priorities always amaze."

-Tyler

IC:

"My priorities are perfectly sensible."

IC:

"Uh huh."

-Tyler