Beer Burger Pool!

[arsenal-arrow.livejournal.com]

Philadelphia's night life can be wild if you know where to go. The wild days are over now, though, but there's places just as fun.

This endeavor is as much for Roy to show Grant the places in Philadelphia to drink, but also the places not to drink at. Nightwing-- Dick-- would probably have his head if he knew he was showing Mar'i's boyfriend how to drink, but someone's got to do it. No one likes hangovers, if Grant can even have them, and besides, friends show friends how to drink smart.

Roy hooks an arm over Grant's shoulder and faces him to the long boulevard that stretches out before them. Scattered about from side to side, down and down the block, bars: big ones, flashy ones, hole-in-the-wall bars.

"The trickiest part of your training will be bar food, young padawan. Let's find some grub and start the trials!"

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[damage-granted.livejournal.com]

This was Roy's idea - things like this are invariably Roy's idea. Grant had been minding his own business, sitting on the floor of one of the apartment spaces Roy had been renting out. The younger Titan had arrived with Mar'i a few days after the advance party began scouting out the site for the new base.

Suddenly, Roy had banged into the room, grinning broadly as his "brother" is apt to do when he is up to no good, announcing that some training was in order. Grant, of course, had taken the elder Titan's suggestion at face value, wondering where they would train without anything resembling an actual gym - the pitiful collection of workout equipment in the complex's main office hardly qualified.

Thus, Grant had been torn away from the rather spare confines of the apartment, instructed to dress in something he wouldn't mind spilling beer on, then left the collection of maps to scatter about the floor like a small snow flurry.

"Right, bar food," Grant replies, looking up and down the street, then back to Roy, a somewhat uncertain smile on his face. "Alright, let's do this. I'm starved."

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"It's not bad. You've got your standards which are almost always safe--" He steers them towards the doorway of one that looks relatively quiet. Average round poker tables with stools placed about. The front is open to sidewalk traffic, and there's some people in the back watching-- soccer?

"Fries. Peanuts are always safe. Onion rings, although be careful with grease and hard liquor." He grips Grant by the shoulders firmly and gives him a very serious look. "If you never remember anything ever for the rest of your life, remember this! Never let your women eat onion rings OR hot wings, and hard liquor. You will not love her-- er, very much-- in the morning."

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Curiously, the place is rather free of cigarette smoke, but the stink of nicotine from years past still clings to the walls. Odds are that if either Titan pressed their hand to the wooden paneling, their palms would undoubtedly be stuck. Grant follows Roy into the bar, glancing around - it isn't the first time he has been in a place like this, but it's the first time in a long time he's been anywhere with Roy, and if Grant knows anything about Harper, it's to expect the unexpected.

"Right. Fries and peanuts are safe, onion rings and hard liquor don't mix. Honestly," Emerson says, turning to look at the red-haired man. "I don't think I have to worry about that sort of thing for the moment."

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"You should always worry about this sort of thing." The smell doesn't bother Roy. Some little part buried deep in him naturally associates that smell with bars, especially on the west coast through the 70's. Not because drinking is important, but socializing comes up, and thus so can drinking. It pays to be a little wiser up than the next guy.

He finds them a booth in the back and slides into one side. Now his voice is at a whisper, at least below the sound of the music in the place. "You never know who's watching you. Mar'i can have a little attention on her sometimes and it's not a guarantee how the city will receive us. If you go out, be careful what you eat, what you drink, where you go-- just be aware." He sits back and his voice goes back to normal. "This place isn't so nice but it's a hole in the wall. No one looks twice at the people who move in and out of this place, and that could go double for you if you play your cards right on something."

Yes, he's teaching Grant Super Sneaky Spy Stuff. Why? It's fun!

[damage-granted.livejournal.com]

Grant, of course, only very rarely drinks, and he isn't sure that Mar'i does at all. Therefore, he's not particularly certain why he should worry about either of them mixing hard liquor with grease, but, at least for tonight, whatever Roy says goes.

Sliding into the booth, sitting across the table from his bro, Grant frowns a little as his hand moves across the seat - just as gummy as he'd figured. Of course, he'd spent a time or two in places worse than this while he was touring the Eastern Seaboard, but that's hardly the point.

Why Roy is discussing tactics at the moment is beyond him, but it is good advice. Mar'i will undoubtedly receive the majority of the attention from any onlookers, and not just because of her killer good looks. Grant, however, would have a much easier time blending into a crowd than the Tamaranean. "Alright, but don't you think it's a little too soon for you to be worrying about people lacing our food with rat poison? I mean, we just got here, Roy."

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Yeah, he's a little paranoid. New town. There's been a lot of tiring ordeals in the last few months. He manages out a little grin and flags the waitress for two german ambers. "Donna's thinking about dropping the secret ID, or at least, not being so secret about it."

Roy shrugs and starts spinning a cardboard coaster with the bar's logo printed on. "All the times I thought no one would ever think of this, or that, or that no one was watching... guess I'm ready for quiet and looking to avoid ruckus in this city. East Coast cities are highly active targets for craziness. Guess I worry about you and Mar'i, even though neither of you two are really new to this. Santana, too."

[damage-granted.livejournal.com]

The younger Titan just listen as Roy orders their drinks, glancing briefly at the waitress, then returning his attention to the man seated across from him. It takes a moment for the news about Donna to sink in. "Wow, really? God, I've known her as Donna for so long that thinking about her as anything else just seems bizarre," Grant confesses, looking to his left at the patrons gathered at the bar, then back to Roy.

"I'd like to think we'd just be able to set up shop here without any problems, but I don't see that happening, and I'm pretty sure you don't either, Roy," Grant replies, grinning at the man. Roy's concern is met with a brief shrug, but the youth doesn't look or sound sullen. "New town with new dangers. We'll be able to deal. I think Mar'i and I will be alright."

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"Yeah, I s'pose. The kids always are, huh?" That feels like a worse Titans in-joke than it really is.

But mentioning Mar'i enough... "So, how's life with the half-Tamaranean anyway?" He grins. "Interesting?"

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"We do what we can, just like you guys did, bro," Grant replies, grinning at Roy. The irony is that the kids aren't always alright - in fact, being part of the Titans usually means that things are frequently the opposite of alright. Grant would like to think, however, that the younger generation are just as capable as the founders.

The waitress returns with the two hero's ambers, casting a brief, appreciative look at the red-headed hero, and Grant is only just able to suppress his smirk. Reaching for his beer, the younger Titan takes a sip, making a bit of a face - it's been a while since he's had anything to drink.

"It's been going real well. We're looking into schools up here - U Penn," Grant explains, returning his attention to Roy. "With packing and everything, we haven't really had a lot of time together the last few weeks."

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"Things will even out." He's casual about it. Yes, even if things go crazy they always do level. "Once things are more settled here, there'll be time."

He feels a little tight about the collar to admit it, so he takes a sip of beer around the smirk. "I'll be looking at school, too, probably. Try that alter ego thing, I guess, see how much I can tick the civilian gig." But right now he wants to know more about Mar'i. "Just, out of curiosity, nobody's, ah... given your grief about your, er-- coupling?" Delicate wording because he won't insinuate what might or might not have happened already. Well she IS half-Tamaranean!

[damage-granted.livejournal.com]

Grant certainly hopes so. He and Mar'i have had a few moments here and there, but nothing for some time. He'd blame himself, but he knows that circumstances have conspired against them. With any luck, things will go back to some semblance of normalcy - Emerson really would like to take his girl out on a proper date some time soon.

He takes another sip of his beer, but nearly chokes on the frothy beverage when Roy mentions that he's considering school. Wiping at his mouth, Grant can't suppress his growing smile. "Honestly, I think it's a good idea. If I weren't going to school, I'd be going stir crazy. You at least have Lian to look after, but I can only spend so many hours in the gym."

Brows lift at the question about Mar'i, but he just shakes his head. "No. Well, other than Nightwing," Grant says, his surprise subsiding. Quiet for another moment, Grant's eyes return to his drink. "There really hasn't been much to get grief for, Roy."

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"I have no idea where I'm going to fit the time in," Roy replies honestly with another sip. "Everything I do now eats up so much-- look how long it took for me to take my bro out for a beer! And it's not just classtime, it's all the studying, too..."

He shakes his head and laughs a little too himself. Nightwing. Go fig. The smile says he knew that one was coming. "Nightwing and Mar'i are close. He worries, kinda like a dad." It's the truth but it isn't. Roy cracks up at Grant looking down and being so modest. "I didn't ask! I was expecting to hear 'Nightwing', and I won't assume anything on you. I left any insinuation wide open for personal interpretation."

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"There's no 'kinda' about it," Grant looks up, a wry grin on his face, recalling his conversations with both father and daughter. "Trust me - it took a little while to wrap my head around the idea of Nightwing being Mar'i's dad, but stranger things have happened. And after that talk with Nightwing... I dunno. Things just made more sense, the way the meeting shook out and all that."

The smile grows a little then. "Starfire and I had a good talk a while back, way before I knew about where Mar'i came from. She wasn't quite so... hostile."

Another sip of beer - he manages to keep from making that face again - and Emerson drums his fingers on the table. "We've talked about things, me and Mar'i, I mean," he explains, eyes shifting to the table, then back up to Roy. "We've just been taking things slow. But, uh... well, I doubt you want details, and even if you did, you're not getting any." The smile returns, and Grant reaches for a plastic-covered menu. "What're you getting?"

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Roy's starting to look really stupid trying to not let all these cats out of their bags. "I didn't know how much she-- or he-- might've said to you. Sometimes I say what I shouldn't, but I don't want to give people's secrets out."

He doesn't need the menu. He thumbs the plastic edge. "Hot cheese pretzel. Four of 'em. Two for now, two for later." Donna's probably going to complain about the crumbs when he stumbles awake for them at 2AM. "Anyway, you guys are cute, and I wouldn't pry. One of these days I need to tell you about Donna's first apartment. Wildcat across the street, and surprise visits from Black Canary."

[damage-granted.livejournal.com]

As far as Grant's concerned, he's fine with Roy looking and feeling a little flustered. This might be the first time since he's returned to the team that he's felt like he knows what's going on. There are certain things and certain information to which he is not privy, such as Nightwing's identity, but at least he knows that his girlfriend isn't exactly from around here.

The waitress returns for their orders, and Grant flips open the menu, then turns his attention back to the waitress. "Burger and fries, well done on the burger," Grant says, folding the menu closed, sliding it away.

"You know, that reminds me," he replies to Roy, tapping his index finger on the table. "Now that we're here on the East Coast... do you think Ms. Lance - I mean, Dinah - would introduce me to the JSA? I've been meaning to do that for a while, but... well the opportunity just hasn't come up."

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Roy holds up four fingers at the waitress with a grin. She doesn't even write it down as she walks away.

"Sure, I could ask Dinah. I could probably ask Donna, too, a lot of them are the same as family to her."

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Apparently, Roy's already spent a fair amount of time in this place, as the waitress seems to know exactly what the red-headed man is ordering. Grant might have to convince his brother to let him at least sample one of these cheese pretzels - odds are that they are far and away superior to those shops he's seen in shopping malls.

"I met her at the wedding - Dinah, I mean. She told me to just give her a ring whenever I was in town and she'd be happy to take me to the Brownstone," Grant explains, drumming his fingers on the table top again. Speaking of weddings...

"So, I have to ask," he continues, quirking a smile at the elder man. "How's married life treating you?"

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That caught Roy by surprise. The coaster he'd gone back to playing with actually rolls off the table. He fumbles to get it. "Ah-- yeah, it's good."

He sits back up and lays the disc flat on the table. "Ups and downs, like everything else." The beer is getting more of his attention. A flag to the folks at the bar brings another one around.

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Well, that's odd. Grant had been at the reservation on the day of the wedding, seen how ridiculously happy both Roy and Donna had looked, as well as how nervous Roy had seemed. Emerson had been splitting his attention between the ceremony and Mar'i, who had been his date to the wedding, but he hadn't been too distracted to catch Roy's fidgeting.

This, however, is something different, and for a moment, Grant can't help but think that his brother looks decidedly... uncomfortable, ill at ease. "Just good...?" he finally asks, taking another sip of his beer.

Something's odd here...

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Roy rolls his eyes a little bit that he'd be scattered after something like that. Of course Grant would ask a question like that, he's a friend and it's not so complicated a question. The answer...

He sits up a little straighter and fidgets some more. "Donna threw down with Despero a bit back, he--" The coaster goes back to spinning. There is no easy way to explain this situation. "He switched her wires all around."

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"Oh," comes the quick reply, the younger Titan's tone apologetic. "God, Roy, I'm sorry. I'd heard something about that, not any real details, but... with the move and everything, I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to Donna again, except, y'know, 'Hey,' and 'See ya.'"

Food. Food needs to get here quickly. Food will rid the two Titans of this awkward spell in the conversation.

And, as if on cue, the waitress appears, setting down Grant's burger and fries, four of the cheese pretzels for Roy, and a beer for each man. "Thanks," Grant says, smiling at the woman, then looking at his food. "Man, this couldn't have gotten here any quicker." And with that, Emerson dives headlong into what proves to be a surprisingly good hamburger.

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Roy starts in on his first pretzel. "Don't worry about it, man. She's been talking to Raven and Lily. We'll be okay, it's just been hard."

He breaks off a branch and twists it between fingers. "I miss my wife. She's not smiling nearly enough anymore. She hurts and I can't do anything about it. Guess I'm happy this move is happening, she's been getting into that and focusing on everything. It'll pass the time until this is over."

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Grant is silent for several moments, focusing on his food, silently cursing himself for not realizing what was wrong with Donna. He'd been so wrapped up in his own stuff lately that he hadn't even noticed. Some kid brother he's turning out to be.

Setting the burger down, he plucks a few fries from the plate, dipping them in some ketchup, popping them into his mouth. Another sip of beer, and he clears his throat, looking back at Roy. "Donna's the best, Roy," he says, a tight smile on his face. "She can do the impossible. If she can get me to rejoin the Titans, she can get through this."

[arsenal-arrow.livejournal.com]

It would probably make Grant feel better to know Roy's been feeling the exact same way in regards to his schedule. So much planning before the wedding, and enjoying their life after while trying to keep the peace as much as they can. There have been speed-bumps; like Despero. He knows they'll get through it, though.

"We fought too long for this," he says nonchalantly. "We'll be okay, and individually, so will she. In time. I get that and all, but it's... it's complicated just being around her right now. Trying to steer it all without crashing the ship but you can't see, y'know?" He chuckles. "Women write in all those bonehead husband moves to Red Book and Cosmo. I don't want to ever be in there for that reason."

[damage-granted.livejournal.com]

If he knows one thing at the moment, it's that Roy didn't bring him out to Philly's nightspots to talk about heavy, emotional stuff. This is supposed to be a chance for them to reconnect - the two Titans, who many have regarded as siblings, have exchanged only a handful of words since Grant actually returned to the team.

"Oh, come on - if you end up in Red Book or Cosmo, it's going to be for something a lot worse than that. I mean, how long have you and Donna known each other?" Grant asks, taking another sip from his beer, then setting aside the empty glass, reaching for his fresh one.

"Mar'i and I are talking about UPenn. What do you think? You in? We could car pool, eat lunch together. It'd be great," Emerson says, a wink betraying his sarcasm.

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"Probably about as long as-- well, you!" he teases back. "But you're right. I'd probably have to do something really awful. Really, really awful. Like spit in her socks."

He thinks about that. "No, that's too much. That'd just get me crucified. Anyway, I looked into UPenn. It's good I guess, I just have no idea what I want to do. I actually eventually just started 'x'ing places out because they all look the same when you have no clue." There's obviously been some thought to it, though... "Temple's got a great engineering program. UPenn's full of doctors and professionals. Not sure I'd feel right there when really what I want to do is learn how to blow things up. Maybe get a bachelor's in engineering, work in demo. That'd be cool."

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"You going to school to learn how to blow things up real good," Grant replies with a shake of his head. "Now why does that make a ridiculous amount of sense?"

Picking up his burger again, Grant takes a few bites, then sets it back down, chasing it with another swig of beer. Strangely, he's beginning to like the foul-tasting liquid. Tapping a finger on the table, he goes quiet for a moment, thinking how to approach this next topic.

"I told Mar'i," he says simply.

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That makes the next swallow of beer go down hard. Roy could pretend Grant means the three-worded thing guys tells girls, but that'd just be a nice lie.

He smiles a little. Not meanly, but Grant might be a little tipsy. "Okay," he says, trying to make it casual. "How'd it go?"

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Fingers tapping the side of his glass, Grant thinks back to that conversation with Mar'i. She'd gotten a pie for them that night. It had been his first time to see her apartment. Wonder if she's going to start looking for a place in Philly...

Looking up at the red-headed archer, a small smile pulls at the corners of Grant's mouth. "It went really well, actually," he finally says, the smile widening. "She knew something was wrong, because... well, I'm not sure exactly how. She just knew. But it didn't change anything between us."

Another sip of beer and his gaze returns to Roy. "Getting ready for the move and everything, we haven't gotten to see much of each other, but things are going well," he adds. There's no disguising the adoration in his voice.

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"Bravo, man!" The kid hesitated and Roy's heart is just climbing back down from his throat for the few seconds it was clung there. Mar'i was a rational girl borne of, at least in this world, rational people. Roy hadn't expected to hear something bad, and hearing something good is a spectacular step-up.

"I'd buy you another round but it looks like you're having a fine time with that one." He's nibbling at the third pretzel now, dipping pieces in the beer. "That really is awesome to hear, though. Things were rocky for you there for a bit, but I'm glad to know things levelled out. Oh, and you're cute together, nyah."

[damage-granted.livejournal.com]

Did Roy really just say he and Mar'i are "cute"? Aren't there man laws against that or something? Well, regardless, it would appear that Arsenal approves of the relationship. That the older Titan hasn't already asked a series of embarrassing questions regarding Tamaranean sexuality actually comes as something of a surprise to Emerson.

Glancing at his beer, Grant can't help but smile, then downs the rest of his glass, reaching for his burger and taking a few bites. That's when he sees Roy dipping bits of his pretzel into his beer.

"Is that any good?" he asks, a quizzical expression on his face.

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"No," he says matter-of-factly. "I do it to practice suppressing my gag reflex." He gets through two more nibbles, and a swig of beer before he laughs openly.

"Yes, it is. It's not cheez goo... the cheese is in the pretzel dough. Soaks up the beer nice especially if you've got a good head on it."

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"Har har," Grant replies, making a face at Roy's joke. Leaning back in his seat, Emerson pats his stomach, nodding a little. He has to hand it to the elder Titan - the place really did have a surprisingly good burger. And, now that he's finished his second one, he has to admit that the beer really isn't that bad.

"So, how long you figure until the new complex is ready to go?" he asks, stretching a bit.

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Roy swivels the plate around with one finger so the other half of the pretzel is in front of Grant. "Welcome to try it yourself," he says.

Even thinking about the land almost gives him a migraine. It's the part of him that will always be a reservation boy and respect that around him. "The dredging work on the intermediary's gotta happen," he says with a sigh. "Not to mention all the security, and dealing with the local bureacrats... best case scenario, three months? Six? I dunno. Not like we need to leave the work to contractors entirely, though."