|
  |
The Cigar Factory has been in a state of repair for the past couple of days ever since there was an incident with a large, green hulking brute of a guy that decided to put a dent into Luke's floor. Now, the caution tape has been all removed and there is a patch of what can easily been recognized as fresh cement that covers a 2 square foot area near the front door.
Despite being open, though, it's a quite night for the bar. Everything has been cleaned to a spit polish shine and Luke stands behind the bar, wiping down the bar out of habit with one hand while holding a magazine in the other as he reads.
Quite is good for Sharon. Quiet means no one asks too many questions and her bosses might not actually be looking over her shoulder. SO, noticing the place was back open and mostly empty, the blonde wanders her way in somewhere around midnight. SHe's got the loose step of someone who has already been drinking elsewhere but isn't totally sauced. She surveys the room with too sharp eyes for a few heartbeats then makes her way to the bar, settling into the far corner seat, somewhere she can keep her shoulders mostly against a wall.
Looking up from his magazine, Luke watches Sharon come in and take a seat. To someone who has been in prison like Luke, it isn't hard to notice someone putting their back against the wall on purpose as a defensive technique. Setting the magazine down, Luke tosses the towel over his shoulder and makes his way around the bar and over towards Sharon's table, approaching slowly. "Evenin'…" he says, "What can I get for you?" If he remembers her from the 'Hen Party', he doesn't seem to show it.
Not so much defensive as protective habit. Paranoid, perhaps. Maybe that is defensive. Her shoulders settle in there and Sharon pulls out a back of Lucky Strikes from the pocket of her leather jacket, setting them down on the bar. A ghost of a smile crosses her lips as she sees that handsome god of a man coming up behind the bar, "Mm… You would be an immensely…rude answer. So… Hennesy, if you got it back there… or just Jack. I'm not really fucking picky tonight. A double."
Luke Cage lets out a little chuckle, a slight smile forming on his face. "I've heard worse…from you if I am not mistaken. Don't worry, sugar, I am not one to offend easily. Let me check on what I got."
Luke makes his way back to the bar, slipping behind it as he grabs a bottle off of the back shelf and makes his way back over, grabbing two glasses on the way back. He slides one glass onto the table, opening the bottle of Hennesy and pouring a healthy dose of the liquid into the glass, and then doing the same with the second glass. He slides into the booth on the other side of Sharon, "Wanna talk about it?"
"…Probably can't legally talk about it, really." Sharon admits with a bitter line across her thin mouth. No guilt or apology for the commentary she made to him. She believes every word she's said and the look in her eyes doesn't bother to disguise her interest in one of the few men in the world who could probably give her a run for her money. "…doesn't mean I don't want to. Is this like… your obligation as a bartender? To offer to listen with the booze? Must be a shitty, boring life.." SHe raises her glass and knocks back half of it with almost no wince.
Luke Cage nods, "Fair enough." he says as he takes a sip from his drink. "So make some shit up that you can talk about that will get whatever you want off your chest." He leans back with a smirk, watching her slam half of the drink and shrugs, "It's not an obligation, I don't have to talk to the customers. Sometimes it can be as boring as shit, true. Other times, I get to talk to interesting people that try and figure out if I run on batteries. I don't by the way." He takes another sip of his drink, flashing a smile.
"Good…batteries are annoying as shit to replace." Sharon mutters with a half wry smile. She takes a smaller sip of her drink before setting it down and actually grabbing her cigarettes. Two are tapped free, she offering one elegantly in his direction. "I may, or may not be… at this moment, incredibly pissed at a very high level of government office for not listening when I told them things and pulling me out of somewhere because I'm a woman and shouldn't be on the front lines of a war that may or may not be happening… Except for when they need me there. Then I maybe get sent back to possibly shoot or fuck someone, depending on what is needed, before I am maybe called home again. I might be really shitty at saying no to this really shitty dance but I'm two inches from spitting in their eye and maybe just trying to get fired so… what's what booze is for, right?"
Luke Cage reaches over and takes the offered cigarette, reaching into his pocket to produce a lighter, flicking it open and sparking it as he leans over to offer the light to Sharon. "Sounds like a shitty situation." agrees Luke, lighting his own smoke once Sharon has lit hers.
He stands from the table to retrieve a ashtray before sitting back down, placing it onto the middle of the table. "What will you do if you get fired? Sounds like you have a unique set of skills that don't lend themselves to a steno pool." He pauses, sipping from his drink before taking a puff from the cigarette, "I'd outlast the batteries anyway."
"…Outlast batteries, hmm? Now… now you're just tempting me." Sharon mutters huskily, a slightly wider smile cutting across her lips. Maybe one good thing could come out of this after all. She leans over the bar, taking a deep drag of her cigarette to get it going, the filterless tobacco harsh and reassuring in its familiarity. Once the cherry is going, she settles back into the seat, leaning against the wall. "…if I get fired, guess I could maybe go back to SHIELD… or… just work with the Avengers full time and mooch off Steve Roger's. Or… find something else. I'm resourceful."
Luke Cage closes the lighter, slipping it back into his pocket. "SHIELD? The Avengers? You really do run in a interesting crowd, Ms…?" Luke drains the last of his drink and reaches out to poor himself another. "I think I am going to need a name for you. I won't be offended if you make one up, but I need something to call you."
He smirks, leaning back against the booth and letting his arms stretch out over the back. "Now, I also seem to recall something about you crushing me with your thighs? Did I hear that right?"
"Carter. Sharon Carter…" The woman offers her hand towards him, and the name probably isn't unknown. At least, Peggy Carter has done dozens of press conferences in her day and surely it wasn't a concidence, though Sharon has no inch of a British accent. She looks very All American girl. Dangerous, but all American. "…And, well… My thighs have particular skills. but I might wish to keep you in one piece."
"Luke Cage." offers Luke before he takes a puff of his cigarette and lets the smoke trail from his nostrils. He grins, reaching over to lift the bottle and offer her a refill, "Well, Ms. Carter, it's a pleasure to meet you. I can guarantee you that you and your thighs aren't going to break me. I don't break."
That last comment makes her draw back just a little, a skeptical brow arching as she looks him up and down. "Mr. Cage…now…I would very much enjoy the temptation of breaking you in the sweetest of ways. But… every man breaks. Trust me. I'm in the business of breaking them. It's not always physical. Hell…it often isn't. But everyone breaks."
"You'd be surprised, Ms. Carter." says Luke. "I suppose you could be right, I am sure every man has his limits, but so far mine have yet to be breached. It hasn't been for lack of someone trying." He takes another puff from the cigarette and lets the smoke waft in front of his face as he smiles, "Challenge accepted."