|Angelic Chaos at the Usual|
Alright, so that guy with the sneeze for a name was basically a massive dick, and as he wasn't inclined to put himself to proper use, Panty remains a little put-out. Fortunately there was a dumpster just down the street and no shortage of morons to drag behind it, so the dirty blonde angel has found her own relief and is - in fact - in passably reasonable spirits as they smacks open the door of the Usual Restaurant and steps in, making no attempt to actually HOLD the door for the girl behind.
She's busy. Busy reading, in fact, her other hand holding a glossy pamphlet ride up to her face.
"Fuck, this is complicated. What's a 'neural' interface? Do you just shove that in or what?"
It's a guide helpfully provided by the robotic receptionists at the Integra Arms, and Panty has been obsessing over it for the past few minutes, turning it this way and that as she tries to figure out something entirely unrelated to fucking or violence. This... it's a new experience for her, okay.
If anyone is surprised by the mountain of sugary sweets piled up on a table around Stocking, then just get out now. Go on! Get out. You're no longer invited. She started ordering while someone was getting their kicks behind the dumpster. On the bright side she ordered a plate of curry for the bitch.
Behind bites of cake and sips of tea Stocking responds, "You plug it into your brain, not that you have one." Siiiip. "Look, we got a room. Who cares about the details?" Munch. "Personally I'm more worried about the school thing."
"You do what?!" Panty actually looks scandalized at this, pushing the leaflet out from her face with a pronounced leer, turning it sideways - and then, pointlessly, doing the same thing with her head - to size up the diagram she's looking at. A hand shifts back toward her ear, and she extends her middle finger, ramming it in a couple of times. ...and then getting distracted and cleaning out some wax while she's there.
"People here are weird, Stockin'. I mean I've gone some places, but seriously, they're happy to get fucked in the ear just to get themselves an illusionary rathole to live in?" Exuding a scathing little 'pff' she slaps the leaflet down on the table occupied by her sister and swings a long leg up to straddle and subsequently plop down in a free chair, still busily squeaking away inside her ear.
Creaking out a lopsided grin, she pulls her finger out and examines it critically, before flicking it away toward one of the nearby patrons, who immediately stops eyeing up Panty to scream and flail around getting the thick lump of wax out of his hair.
"So what're you worried about? Reckon you won't fit in the uniform? It IS a little tight on you..."
The door swings up and in walks - no, look down - in walks a three foot tall woman with green hair in twin ponytails and skull adorned armor. Ooh! Let's not forget the creepily blue glowing eyes. She glances slightly about as she lets the door close behind her, then starts making her way to the bar. Shortly after, a siamese walks through the door. Yes, through. See, it's kinda on the transparent side. The siamese soon catches up to his owner, trotting along at her heels.
Stocking huffs at her sister. "Tight in the chest maybe. It's not like -I- have to work for my figure." Her eyes shift as the duo enters the establishment. Seconds later it's sparkles and hearts as she squee's softly, "Oh Lord in Heaven, look at them!! They're adorable!!"
Turning momentarily to Panty, she abruptly grabs her by the back of the head and slams her across the table so she can see what she's looking at. Never mind the cakes, cookies, and ice cream suddenly splattering everywhere. She lets go of her sibling shortly after that and sits back down to continue eating. "We need a new pet, I'm starting to miss Chuck."
Grinning all the wider - some would call it a shit-eating grin, but with Panty, it could ONLY be 'dick-eating' - as Stocking protests, the sluttier angel seems ready to fire back, one finger raised matter-of-factly in the air and lips curling in that self-satisfied way only a real cunt can carry off...
When she's subjected to a double-barrelled blast of kawaii rage, all too easily grabbed and slammed, her own turn now to flail her arms as she furiously gnashes her teeth and spits this way and that, trying to avoid swallowing any of the powdered sugar and gloopy cream that's suddenly become her entire world.
"FUCK! LIKE I CAN SEE ANYTHING PAST ALL THIS MORDBID OBESITY WAITING TO HAPPEN!!"
Guaranteeting her own safety only by leaping full-bodied away from the table, Panty lands on her six-inch heels and dusts herself down frantically, her face a picture of rage, baby blues only calming from angry geometry as they settle properly on the newcomers her sister is so besotted with.
"...wait, did that thing just walk through the door? Stand and deliver, you adorable motherfucker!"
With a bend-over that's far too swift and well-practiced, Panty removes her namesake undergaments in a very literal flash and levels an iridescent blue handcannon toward the siamese.
Doommuffin looks up at the gun now pointed at her cat. The cat, of course, doesn't seem to notice.... it's a cat, it doesn't really understand the concept of a gun. Seriously. Have you ever pointed a weapon at an adorable cat? They'll usually rub their head against it. Anyway, the cat seems to stop only because its owner did. "Do you mind?" asks the gnome. "I arrived here to aquire something to drink, not to have my harmless cat threatened by a bimbo with a bow on her gun."
Looking back and forth between the two, Stocking just keeps eating. Why not right? It's just a cat. "It's probably only worth a half coin at best and it's not possessing anyone." A few more bites. "But this is also my sister. She's a slut, and a skank, but not a bimbo." Fire lights up behind her irises - enough to start melting her ice cream. "So take it back, or prepare to see the pussy get whipped."
Yeah. Okay, that feels pretty stupid.
Squinting down the barrel of Backlace, Panty slowly purses her lips and smooshes her mouth to one side, digesting the complete lack of reaction and then realising - the gears in her head going clunkaclunkaclunk - that the entire bar is now looking at her. Leave it to Stocking to be the voice of reason.
"..." Glancing sidelong at her sister, she lowers her glowing gun just slightly, a scowl setting an entirely different light to her own face. Briefly. That frown turns upside down as they're suddenly united in their purpose. "FUCK YEAH!" Coarsely yells the apparently self-declared slut, turning her attention - and her holy armament - toward Doommuffin.
"I might be a whore but I ain't stupid!" Her heels dig into the floor of the UR, expression intense. "Th'fuck are you anyway? You're like a walking mini vibe, whadda they even call you, the Magnificent Pocket Rocket? I'm Panty, she's Stockin', and we eat bigger, badder bitches than you for breakfast!"
Doommuffin says, "....Okay. I am not in the mood to have my harmless cat threatened by a skanky slut with a bow on her gun." She shrugs, accepting that change as a matter of course. "I am Doommuffin, gnomish death knight and tinkerer, and this is my associate, Deathcake. Say hello, Deathcake!"
Deathcake, being a cat, just looks up at Doommuffin and doesn't make a noise.
"In any regard, given my own admittedly diminutive stature, it would not surprise me to in fact find out that you indeed do eat 'bigger, badder bitches' than one such as myself. In fact, I would dare say that I am indeed not all that bad, either, making that point easy to surpass, as well." She tilts her head and ponders something for a moment. "I suppose I can be a bit of a bitch, at times, though. What can I say? Girl's gotta eat, right?""
Good. Good. Everything is under control. Back to her food. She's already devoured most of it. Actually, she'd probably be ordering more at this point but the skutters seem to be hiding from her. Stocking glances at the kitty and once more hearts seem to just appear in the air around her at the sound of its name. "Look, if we're going to go on about eating people we can take this back to our apartment. I thought we were here for food." She gestures towards the seats around the table and starts sipping a milkshake.
Panty may like to run her mouth, but she's not so great at dealing with the verbosity of others. As the well-spoken death knight continues to speak - instead of diving for cover or unleashing a pre-emptive barrage of her own - the promiscuous seraphim's baby blues begin to glaze over. Her shoulders slump and... shit, did she just actually fall asleep? Backlace drops, drops, drops...
And by the time Doommuffin is done, Panty's stood there blowing a bubble of saliva from one corner of her mouth, her holy weapon dangling between her legs. She snaps to with eyes wide, cleaning out one nostril with the barrel of Backlace and distractedly scratching at her ribs as she 'wakes up'.
Blink. Blinkblinkblink. Oh well, at least she's focused back on the reasonable gnomess.
She blinks again. Then, her attention span reaches its full capacity, and she flops back into her chair with an, "Ugh! Bored now! Oh fuck, you actually ordered something edible for me, Stockin'?"
Without an apparent care, Panty scoops up an overfull spoonful of curry and chows down as she waves toward the very person she was, seconds ago, apparently threatening with gross physical harm.
"Mmmf mmf-mmmf mmf, /Mmmmf/!"
Uh. Well, then. As if to make things clearer, she jabs her thumb at one of the table's remaining empty seats.
Skeeve slips through the front doors to the Usual, letting it shut behind him on its own. Pausing to one side of the door, he blinks a few times at all the shouting; it's just a touch rowdier in here than he's used to... at least without an active melee going on, anyway. Doffing his hat, he starts making his way up over to the bar, giving the gnome with the dead cat a reasonable berth.
Doommuffin shrugs and walks over to the side wall, where she gets... yes, she just grabbed a children's booster seat. She brings it back to the table the two 'angels' are seated at, putting the booster into the offered chair before unslinging that oversized sword of her from her back, leaning it against the table. That done, she climbs up the chair and takes a seat. "Well, you two appear to be quite the lively sort. I do not believe I have been witness to your presence in the city before, though I must admit I have been a bit of a shut-in what with my work on DC's armrored body." As if hearinging his name, the ghostly kitty jumps up onto the table and curls up to sleep. She waves down a skutter, "A mug of whatever dwarven ale is currently the simplest to aquire for you, if I may." Satisfied that the skutter will get her rather simple order correct, she looks back up to the sisters. "By the way, I do not actually eat people, but one could say that I eat their pain, in a manner of speaking."
With a nervous glance between Skeeve and Panty and knowing the inevitable is coming, Stocking decides to just go along with the conversation and hope eating prevents her sister from smelling him a few extra minutes. "Oh, yeah. I get'cha. Domination can be fun too, throw in a little light bondage... maybe some electricity?" That is what she's talking about right?
After a delayed reaction, Stocking eyes the kitchen door carefully. That skutter is going to come back, and when it does - she's ordering some more cake. "Try to hide from me, will you?"
A... a booster seat? Bits of curry go spraying across the room as Panty promptly loses it. Recovering herself, she wipes her free hand - apparently she dismissed Backlace and got her panties back on sometime during the last few seconds - across her mouth, snorting 'delicately' as the giggles subside.
"Well, you're just fucking precious, ain't ya?" She's grinning ear-to-ear, holding aloft her spoon - which is melting slightly, leaving a trail of superheated air as she waves it around between sloppily-phrased words - and peering at Doommuffin with open curiosity. "So you're, like, a dwarf or whatever? I thought you were all supposed to have bear--" Baby blues widen, and the grin becomes a leer. "OHHHH!"
Hunkering over the table, she jams a lascivious elbow over the side of Doom's booster seat.
"So you're a natural girl, huh? I keep tellin' Stockin' that look would suit her, but I guess the straps and buckles'd get all tangled up..." She 'pffs' again. "Freaks! --oh hey."
Her sights zero in, and Stocking at least will hear the internal 'LOCK ON!' as Panty sights Skeeve.
"Would you check out that long, cool glass of cream. Fuck, girl, you wouldn't even need to get on your knees!"
...yeah, apparently Doommuffin is her wingwoman now. Score?
Skeeve can't help but smile a little bit at the cacophony coming from the table over across the room, flagging down one of the skutters as it runs from cover to cover, asking it for a milkshake of his own. Only then does he take a seat on one of the stools, spinning to regard the rest of the room - and Panty apparently staring right at him. The intensity's a little intimidating, to be honest. "Uh... ...can I help you?"
Doommuffin raises an eyebrow. "I am a gnome, not a dwarf. Our peoples are rather closely allied, however, hence my fondness for dwarven ale." She pauses and rolls her eerily blue glowing eyes as the two seem to think her literal means of sustanance is just a sexual kink. "No, as I said, I am a death knight. I inflict pain, often via the medium of rune blade-" She taps her oversized sword. "-and that literally sustains me." As the blonde suddenly locks onto Skeeve, Doommuffin shakes her head with a somewhat annoyed sigh. If Panty thinks she has a wingwoman in DM, she's going to be rather dissapointed.
Stocking has a minor panic attack as a skutter sneaks past her to get Skeeve's order. "IT'S A FUCKING CONSPIRACY, HUH?!" She leaps to her feet, yanking off a stocking in the process. With a flash of light it becomes a sword, her hand brushing off almost ethereal fabric from the blade with a free hand.
"ALRIGHT YOU LITTLE MOBILE VIBRATORS, GET ME ANOTHER FUCKING CAKE OR FACE MY HEAVENLY WRATH!!!" Wings seem to sprout from her back and of course a halo appears over her head. She's serious. Far too serious. Leaping across the room, Stocking manages to reach the door to the kitchen and nearly knocks it off its hinges as she storms into the kitchen after them.
"Mmhm," acknowledges the (slightly) older angel, not at all dismissively, paying full and undivided attention to her dimunitive new acquaintance as she chews on her bottom lip. Apparently she's at least half paying attention though, commenting airily, "Stockin's just like that about cake."
An equally breezy wave is tossed toward her sister, just in time for that handy distraction.
Like Stocking, Panty's across the room in half a heartbeat, her spoon spinning on its axis as it hits the table in her wake. One moment Skeeve is in her predatory stare, and the next there's a blur of crimson and dirty blonde, two pale pink arms launching past him on either side as the angel leeeeeans in from the business end of her own honey trap, standing on the tips of her six-inch heels for maximum extension.
"Well, fuck!" She exudes from uncomfortable proximity, pupils wildly-dilated and tone a little husky and a lot raunchy, "I dare say you can help yourself. Nice hat, love the way you..." One baby blue shuts in a wink, her lips pouting outward. "Cock it. Hi. I'm Panty."
One of the scutters has taken pride in the fact that it has skirted around Stocking, and arrives at their now mostly vacated table witha mug of dwarven ale! "Thank you," says Doommuffin to the mechanical server. Really, she's nicer to these things than she is to the living waitstaff, when there's some around.
You know, Skeeve's been in some scrapes before, with some people who've seriously outclassed him. So he's used to having to be on his toes, to act at the soonest hint of trouble. Which is why Stocking's outburst catches his attention instantly, but as she storms into the kitchen, he relaxes a little bit, and glances back in the direction of -
Panty. Right in his face.
Obviously startled, Skeeve slides backwards involuntarily, nearly falling between the bar stool and the bar itself. He would have hit the floor, had he not thrown one arm over the bar to catch himself. Crossing one leg over the other, as though he meant to do it all along, Skeeve replies gamely, "Hi. Skeeve, Skeeve Plowse. Pleasure's mine, I'm sure."
At least everyone was able to distract themselves from the rampage in the kitchen. Stepping out of the doorway again with bits of broken skutters drapped over her shoulders like war trophies and a three tier cake in her hands, Stocking makes her way back to the table and sits down with a huff. Her eyes roll over to her sister which just seems to infuriate her more forcing her to start eating the cake in large mouth fulls. "Every fucking time..."
After roughly a third of the cake is gone she'll lean over to make eye contact with Doommuffin. "See, let that be a lesson to you. Don't bother going after guys when Panty's got herself all hot and bothered. It'll just end in disaster." Wait, is she mad she's going after Skeeve or something else? "But the cake is good. This'll do until we can finally get some real food." Real food?
"HEY! SKANK!! Let the guy have some breathing room, why don't you?! It's only been ten fucking minutes since the last brain dead imbicile you took behind the dumpster!" After a moment's pause she adds with a grin, "Oh, and there's a banana peel stuck to your heel." Heeee.
Where she was brash and loud before, now Panty's relatively... subtle, if you can call 'oversexed, sultry pornstar' a state of subtlety. Skeeve's reaction and subsequent comment draw a low chuckle from the angel's throat, her back arching inward yet more improbably, bringing the sensitive swell of her chest as close as can be to actually touching the cornered mage.
"No, the pleasure's all -mine-," she states the last with raunchy fervour, her face upturning and lips parting as if she's about to try and eat the poor bastard. "But if you're a good boy, there'll be plenty to spare. I'd shake your hand, but you'll be needing both hands just to hold on..."
To call the pause that follows 'loaded' would be doing Panty a disservice. SOMETHING'S about to explode-- which perhaps fortunately turns out to be her little sister. This draws a drastic shift in gears from the blonde, her sultry expression twisting into equally-explicit anger as she rounds toward the younger angel.
"WHAT THE FUCK BITCH?! DO YOU CATCH ME CLITBLOCKING /YOUR/ FAT ASS?! --oh, shit..."
Worried eyes cant over her shoulder, where she's kicked up her heel and noticed Stocking is, in fact, not completely stupid after all. Hopping around, Panty flails around trying to remove the banana peel... giving Skeeve plenty of room to breathe in the process.
Skeeve lets out a breath as Panty gives him some space, bouncing around to try and catch the banana peel. Not that that isn't attention grabbing in its own way. Levering himself back up, Skeeve actually takes a seat on the bar proper - it's nice to have an escape route, but just running would be a terrible mistake. If you run, they will hunt you down and kill you. He's pretty sure that's how women work. Or is that raptors?
Taking up his milkshake, letting loose an inward sigh, Skeeve takes a sip and inwardly debates whether or not he should help. It would be polite after all.
Doommuffin says, "Oh, beleive me. I have no such carnal instincts anymore. I'm afraid it is a side effect of my entire situation of being, as an aquaintence once said, a 'surviving corpse.'" she takes a good swig of her ale befoce continuing. "As such, I no longer have any natural hormones coursing through my veins, and thus no longer desire to have such relations with the opposite sex. An unfortunate side effect of an unfortunate state of exsistance.""
With a shrug of her shoulder, Stocking casually blurts out, "My fiance was a ghost." She takes another bite of the cake and chews the next sentence over. "Hormones aren't the only component of love. Sometimes you just gotta wait until you see that special spark." Her eyes begin to glaze over. "Might be a look, or a smell... but once it's there you can't fucking ignore it." Munchmunch. "You gotta jump in balls-first before you lose it, y'know?"
Abruptly leaning back she calls out, "You're losing your touch! It's been two minutes and counting! Three more and you have to give up, slutters!" As if that's ever worked before.
Doommuffin says, "Hrm. An interesting postulation. Were that to be true, then I suppose I simply find every man I meet now to be far too much of a simpleton." She pauses a moment, considering things. "Or Perhaps too tall. I did tend to find men 150 per cent my height to not be particularly attractive even when I was still alive, after all. Another postulation is that the exact nature of my undeath, that being of becoming a Death Knight, is what has changed my desires and personality to the point where I simply do not care for romantic feelings of any sort.""
Stocking tries to listen to Doommuffin, but the banana peel splating against the back of her head throws that right out the window. Positively fuming now she stands up, yanking the offensive trash out of her hair and throwing it to the ground at her feet with a louder splat. "JUST because I don't want to screw every sperm donor with a pulse doesn't mean that I haven't fucked! Matter of fact, Baron Von Whitetrash, I'm pretty sure the last time was with that boytoy of yours with the chiseled abs and... what did you call it? The Orgasmic Mustache Ride of Apollo?" She put the back of her hand to her mouth and begins to chuckle darkly. "Oh yeah. I went there too! And it was barely even the teacup ride at Disney Land!" What now, bitch?
"Steve, Skeeve," The dirty blonde angel replies with a carefree roll of her eyes, tipping her hand first toward the mage and then to herself, coming to rest - by no small happenstance - in the creamy twain betwixt her breasts, "Panty, Schmanty, why don't we split the difference and just scream out whatever the fuck we want? I mean, who cares when you're sweating at the peak of-- bitch I'm /talking/..."
Teeth gritting, the would-be seductress is again distracted by her goddamn FUCKING sister. Baby blues blaze with the righteous fire of holy fury, Panty flipping right back from languid to apoplectic.
"...did you seriously just go there?! What the ACTUAL FUCK!!"
Launching herself off the bar with a cannily-applied heel, Panty vaults a passing scutter, springboarding off its beaked head and turning a flip that sees her come around in a vibrant flash, the form of Backlace pulsating furious vengeance in her white-knuckled grasp. She's still closing on her sister, but already peeling off potshots, the handcannon's hammer thudding away as blast after blast rings out.
"As if he'd have been interested in your fat ass! I bet you had to tie him down you ugly bitch!"
...it's not ironic at all that a halo is currently blazing above Panty's angrily-creased brow.
Doommuffin takes a sip of her ale and giggles. Yes, giggles. Gnomish women can never seem to get out any realy laugh that doesn't end up sounding like a giggle. This display of agression between the two sisters is far, far too fun to watch! If the scutters hadn't all made themselves scarce, she'd be ordering popcorn now! As it is, she just sits back and enjoys the show, pulling her ghostly cat into her lap.
Skeeve is, for the first time in a very long time, completely and utterly nonplussed by what's going on, even as the fracas between the two sisters really starts to pick up. There is one thing couldn't help but notice, though. "Did... she just take her panties off?"
The metallic 'TING' of metal hitting metal can be heard as Stocking again draws Stripe and slashes the bullets out of the air - sending them into the tables and walls around them. Look out pedestrians! (*Fun fact: They can't hurt the living! ((Look out Doommuffin! (((*Fun fact: They can't hurt undead corpses!)))))) Using her once more appearing wings to gracefully hop backwards towards the stage, the younger sister continues to mock her older sibling.
"What's the matter bleach-blonde? Can't take the truth when you don't have a scrotum to be hiding behind? You wanna go cockstain?! We can go!" Somehow she manages to lean back and pull her other stocking off which of course magically changes into another sword. The second Panty tries to hesitate she'll put the hilts together and start spinning them in a whirlwind of slashes as she changes direction and goes straight towards the bar taking out any and all things between herself and her sister.
Snarling like a pissed-off lion, her dirty blonde mane flaring out behind her, Panty skids through the deflected lines of her own blazing bullets, scattering furniture and patrons as she forces herself to an unruly stop opposite her irritatingly-graceful sister. They're like fire and ice, but clearly have a lot in common - with another searing flesh of her widening halo, the blonde now bears wings as well, feathers flaring out over the back of her slutty red mini-dress.
"You wanna shut the fuck up and think about this for a second? There's no way you can beat me, little sister! I'm older, wiser AND more experienced than your trampy goth ass! That dirty old pedo isn't here to split this up and save you from a righteous fucking buttkicking, ya know!"
She's running her mouth even as she moves, diving into a handspring that takes her just past the trajectory of the bladed maelstrom. This carries her up into the UR's rafters momentarily, where a pair of finely-directed shots ring out-- not at Stocking, but at the light fittings.
Patrons run screaming as lengths of chain and surprisingly sturdy glass lamps begin to fall in a coinjoining arc toward the younger angel. Panty drops down a beat later, landing in a three-point crouch with her former panties still extended, legs all but framing an acrobatic split upon the floor.
...a man watching behind her promptly falls over with a critical nosebleed.
"And don't you dare cut that hot piece of meat into ribbons! In fact just carve my fucking number on his chest and let him run the hell away. He'll call me just to get over getting an eyeful of your approaching mammaries, you beached fucking whale!!"
Skeeve pushes himself backwards, falling back behind the bar when the fur *really* starts flying, amidst the clatter of glass and falling bottles as deflected bullets ring into the shelves on the back wall. "Ladies, LADIES! I get that this has been a long time coming, but maybe this isn't quite the venue for it!?" A bottle of seltzer water teeters for a moment, falls off the shelf, and shatters when it hits. There's a cry of pain, and from behind the bar floats a slightly higher pitched voice. "Son of a bitch!"
Stocking yanks her two swords apart again and growls, "You're the one who always had to run to Pedofro for protection! Funny how that's the only time you ever seem to think you fucking need it!!" But that gives her a terrible idea too and she makes a bee-line for Skeeve with a manic smile on her face, "Hey sweet-cheeks?! Wanna see how to really piss off an angel?!" Oh yes. She's going for it!
Turning tail and running for the bar, Stocking leaps over bits of tables and chairs and finally plants both swords into the UR bar top before using them to leap over to the potentially bleeding man behind it. Not that it matters - this is about pissing off Panty. Nothing about this will end well for anyone involved.
There are moments in time where men become heroes.
In those same moments, women became insane, jealous bitches just desperate to get one over on the subject of their catty attentions. Right now, Panty is trapped in one of those moments.
"You cheating little bitch!" Stocking's dash for the bar draws another snarl from her sister, whose eye has thoroughly been taken off the ball(s) and to whom Skeeve's plight goes almost entirely unnoticed - until he is, rather abruptly, at the apparent tender mercies of the purple-haired angel.
"THAT..." Spits Panty, baby blues blazing as she busies herself by turning and latching onto the leg of the fallen man behind her. She yanks him up into the air with a strength that's not entirely probable. "IS..." The yanking hand releases and cuts a complex whiplash of motion through the air, the poor bleeder hitting the ground now sans pants and underwear. The former fly back through the door of the UR, as the latter are spun about Panty's fingertips, burning with more holy light--
--and then slammed down atop the waiting form of Backlace. Forming a new, scoped barrel for the firearm, which is brought up to the blonde's face as part of the same desperate motion. She has a split-second to sight on Stocking as the younger girl descends on her prey.
"MY MAN, BITCH!!!"
Panty pulls the trigger. Backlace 2.0 roars...
...and then spits a pulsating holy bullet from its barrel, which isn't nearly as long as Panty both presumed and fervently prayed for, the gathered rotation not enough to send the bullet more than half the distance toward Stocking. Far from delivering a brutal payload, it instead drops the projectile limply to the floor of the restaurant, where it bounces end over end to an anticlimactic standstill.
Panty's aghast scream threatens to split the heavens asunder.
As the other sister's feet come into the wizard's field of view, Sarah jerks her head back, pulling herself more or less vertical, startled and actually a little surprised to see her there. There may even be a little screaming. "For fuck's sake! Don't *do* that!" As she stands, more broken glass and tonic water spill to the ground.
To be fair, normally Stocking would be just as fine pouncing a woman as a man and not necessarily just to piss off Panty, but those moments usually involve seeking a woman intentionally and not just suddenly having one appear out of nowhere. There's precious seconds between clearing the top of the bar and slamming into the poor woman to redirect her momentum - which of course sends her into the back wall of the UR and head first into alcohol and glass shards that suddenly find themselves with a desire to escape at high velocity from what was originally their containers.
Screeching as a large amount of said glass manages to impale her face and more so when she collapses onto more broken glass behind the bar, Stocking takes a moment or two to collect herself before dragging herself to her feet using Sarah as her ladder. Of course a quick grope later and she'll be in hysterics - the glass somehow no longer in her. Angels or anime characters? Pick your reasons.
*SNORT* "Oh! Oh lord! P-Panty!? He's gone from an outtie to an innie." And over she falls onto the floor giggling again. Is she-? Well, yes. Of course she's implying THAT. Who else are we talking about here?
The stumpy, warped barrel of the tried, tested, and thoroughly-failed Backlace 2.0 is lowered along with Panty's jaw and what remains of her furiously-upheld dignity. Eyes like dinnerplates licked clean survey the scene that unfolds before her eyes, everything from disappointment to confusion to ebbing rage fighting for control over her emotional core before she clamps her mouth shut, narrows her eyes...
And then snorts so hard she almost EXPLODES.
"You have GOT to be shitting me." It comes babbling up like a brook, the infectious ripple of Stocking's gigglefit spreading up through Panty's outrageously-heeled feet, through her... well, you know... and up into her very soul. A beat later she just cracks the fuck up, laughing hard and hearty until tears pout out of her eyes and she pushes herself upright from where she's fallen on the floor, sniffling toward her sister. "Pfft... haha... ugh... fuck... you goddamn bitch, I hate you so much."
It doesn't sound like she does.
Sarah looks distinctly unimpressed, as Stocking gets a big handful of tit. Panty's reaction doesn't help much, but at least she stopped the fight. Which, she reflects for a moment, was the whole point all along. Sighing, she offers a hand down to Stocking. "Get up before you get glass somewhere unpleasant, you're going to hurt yourself." Looking back over at Panty, she adds, "Are you two finished now?"
Stocking lets herself be pulled up, promptly deciding to wrap herself around Sarah in the process. She's still giggling at least. "Oh. Oh? Oh! Oh, I'm fine. We," snerk, "do this all the time." More giggles. There was going to be a shitty pickup line but she just can't bring herself to do it so she staggers along the bar using the side of it for support as she tries to suppress her laughter. "I think I'm good for the night. You can have 'em, Sis." Snort. "At least you won't have to ask him to wear protection." She pauses at the remains of her cake, shakes her head, and drops into a somehow still standing chair to pick up her cat plushie. It's only then that she notices the room got emptier. It seems to only be the three of them now. "Hey? Where'd the little one go?"
Panty still needs a moment, but once she's had it, she's able to hop up into a slouching shrug that expresses almost completely relaxed apathy toward Sarah's query. "Yeah," she concedes with an oddly blithe air of nonchalance, "I'm good. I don't do chicks anyway. This shit was lousy, though..."
Eyeing the conjunctive form of Backlace, she reaches down and pulls it into component parts, letting the undesirable half fall from her hand with an only partly-playful 'ick' face. The rather stained pair of y-fronts land on the back of their owner's head, who gives a groggy thumbsup in thanks to the fallen angel. Rolling her eyes, she looks back toward the bar, blinking at Stocking's query as she kicks up one leg at a time, re-donning her frilly namesake as if were the most natural thing in the world.
"Fuck if I know. Probably under all the rubble! We really did a number on this place. Should probably bail before they try to make us pay for that shit... maybe we could, like, send 'em a signed photo."
"Or you could work off the debt! Fuck, you could be a double act!"
Sarah sighs heavily, hopping up over the bar herself, and picking up her strawberry milkshake - miraculously, somehow untouched - takes a pull, sighing. "I wouldn't worry too hard, you'd be surprised how often this place gets wrecked." Kicking one of the free chairs , one of the few still standing, anyway, over to the closest undestroyed table, Sarah drops into it. "I think she took off when everyone else ran, you know, when the bullets started flying?"
Rolling her eyes a little bit at Panty's suggestion, Sarah adds, "It's a tempting thought, to be sure, but I'm going to pass. I've had my fill of dishes, thanks." She kicks her feet up onto the table. "So much for a calm dinner."
Stocking brushes off her dress as she listens to everyone speak their turn. There's a brief look of disgust as she finds a piece of glass jammed into her leg which she yanks out and drops like it was infected. "This place gets smashed a lot?" She eyes her sister, "We need to come here more often!" Somewhere along the line she yanked her swords out of the bar - or in this case stockings as they've clearly reverted along with her mood. Taking the time to check herself carefully first she only then puts her stockings back on. This gives her time to think and to Panty's suggestion she nods her head. "We probably should vanish, yeah. I'm not cleaning this pigsty up."
"So much for a good fuck," Panty echoes Sarah's lamentation with one of her own, folding her arms behind her head and suppressing a yawn as she idly kicks at the downed, pantless man beside her. "Ah well, whatever! Right?" The latter goes to Stocking, coupled with a wicked little grin. "This place ain't so bad, we can skip school whenever we want and just come trash this place instead. Good fuckin' deal..."
That all comes out conversationally, as the dirty blonde angel appears to have maxed out her interest level again, calmly turning and starting to walk out of the door in the apparent belief that her little sister's going to be trailing right on behind. Her right arm extends to wave behind her.
"See you around, Skeevarina!" Split the difference, indeed. "Don't do anyone I wouldn't do!"
...that should give him/her a few options, right?
Sarah sighs a little bit, getting back to her feet. Discretion really does sound like the better part of valor at this point; no sense in getting tangled up with local law enforcement. Offering a casual wave to Panty, she calls back, "No promises!" As the two sisters leave, Sarah drains her milkshake, then, looking around, sighs, and just tosses it, letting it smash against the ground, before drawing her cloak around her and heading out to the Twisted street herself.
Before Sarah can leave the door swings open one last time and the purple-haired angel smiles warmly, tucking a piece of paper into the doorframe obviously. "I think you're cute either way. Call me!" The door swings quietly shut as she vanishes outside again and the sound of tires squealing fills the air speeding off into the distance.
Sarah, more than a little flabbergasted, snatches the paper out of reflex, looking down at it. After a few minutes of staring at it, all she can say is, "Oh, I'm in so much trouble..."