Scene #8622: Pizza Time

Owner	Pose
Powerpuff Girls	Princess Morbucks received a call that was still ringing in her head. Earlier... Princess Morbucks recieves a call on her ultra-high-tech luxury tungsten-cased bulletproof pink-yellow verysmartphone. The caller ID is a slightly blurry photo of a certain Puff who seems mid-swing. "I'm not interested in joining the band." Morbucks begins, dry, right after swiping up. "Is that how you pick up the phone? 'Not interested', first thing?" Buttercup breathily chuckles. "I'm hanging up now." "You wanna get a pizza?" Buttercup interrupts, knowing she has One sentence left. Thankfully, hers is good enough. "...What?" AND SO... State of Mind Public House is a pizza and fried chicken sando chain native to sunny California, serving up California-style woodfired pizzas and local beer in a fun gastropub environment. A throwback, almost, the concrete floors and black metal hightop chairs and tables at the front lead into a small back sitting area with wooden picnic-style tables in the back, a slightly enclosed arcade space with a pinball machine, an shooty game with two large rifle controllers mounted, and a sidescrolling beat 'em up game installed. Sitting all the way in the back, are two of Townsville's most notable people. Everyone else is just here for a pizza, though some people are staring at the woman in yellow-gold and black supervillaining up the back wall with a crossed-arm lean. Across from her, half-sitting with a foot up on the table, is Buttercup Utonium. Morbucks is in a primarily gold sleeveless 'dress', with detached gold-trimmed and fingered black sleeves and matching thigh-highs boots over white leggings. Both the tiara she wears on her head and the collarpiece (below the gold choker) of her dress bear a definitely-not-a-simple-ruby power crystal of some sort. Her mass of ginger floof is tied into two long-trailing puffs. Buttercup is in a black t-shirt, a green collared shirt she wears open and unbuttoned, and a pair of black shorts and sneakers. "Okay, Morbucks, now that I've bought you dinner, you're gonna be cool, right?" Buttercup asks, leadingly. Morbucks, who has NOT gotten a piece of pizza yet, frowns with deep incredulity. Buttercup just gets her phone out again and calls Petra. "Hey, Petra. You want to get a pizza with me now?" What could go wrong?
Petra Soroka	Petra Soroka reacts to the phone call with both more and less surprise than Morbucks. She and Buttercup are on regular speaking terms, despite everything, so the call itself isn't alarming, to her. A little glimmer of giddiness, childhood echoes of excitement, maybe, but that has lost its luster both with repetition and with history. Her surprise, and mild spike of anxiety, comes from revisiting Townsville, especially, especially, for fast food. It's a little different this time, though. Now they know each other, and Petra's eaten lunch already today, and Petra is almost certainly not going to threaten another nuclear explosion in the city as a direct result of this meeting. Though she's meeting with Princess, so who can say for sure. Petra hops off the bus, and immediately upon entering the pizzeria, is magnetically drawn to the arcade. Somehow, despite all of her daily usage of real guns, she still gets excited over arcade shooting games, and has to remind herself to pivot and actually get food before joining the pair in the back. Petra's wearing her classic jacket over a blue hoodie with an aesthetically indie graphic splash, revolver grips sticking out of the pockets-- Pillar of Creation, the black-streaked-with-color spear, is also on her back, per Lilian's instruction. She's shockingly unsullen, if still worn and pale. "Oh, you brought Morbucks too?" Petra's little chest-high wave to Buttercup doesn't exactly falter when she sees Morbucks, but it does slow as she starts to think. "Haha, I guess that makes more sense than just me talking to her." When Petra addresses Princess, she has an important decision to make. She's here to talk with her-- and hang out with Buttercup, too, of course, but that's not today's mission-- so her treatment of Morbucks is essential to consider. If she apologizes, right off the bat, that probably makes her look subordinate, right? But she's not, she's a villain in her own right. "Uh, long time no see, Morbucks. I don't know if, I got a chance to introduce myself, before. I'm Petra." Petra sits down, across from Buttercup. "Your outfit's nice. I like that the crown matches."
Powerpuff Girls	Princess, and Buttercup, chilling in the back of the pizza place is one of those 'it happens and people deal with it' situations, but... People in the pizza place aren't really used to seeing Buttercup and Morbucks hanging out. Because they don't. Buttercup hangs out with most of the punk villains - she has regular weekly jam sessions with the Gangrenes and they usually crash a taco bar to do it in when they're feeling adventurous, which is most nights. The taco bars in the area have never been livelier, or rowdier (lowercase r, unless Butch shows up). This pizza place is... Apprehensive. Buttercup has a reputation for throwing about places. This is earned, but perhaps not entirely deserved. Princess Morbucks is... A rich bitch in Los Altos with a full villain light power armor on. This is a lot more normal, but the greater area around Townsville had a lot of inherited character. Morbucks is aware of Petra before Buttercup turns around, and Petra can even see Morbucks begin quiet 'this bitch?' mouthing to the Puff, but Buttercup is already turning. "Hey, Petra." Buttercup rolls through her usual dry rasp-toned conversational with a bit of cheer - but she's about to eat, and can smell it already. Her right leg is bouncing off-beat for a drum, a kind of tapdance eagerness for what's to come, food-wise. "Yeah, I brought Morbucks too. She's trying to get in good with Blossom and needs my approval to start flying with us for serious. I asked her to give you a chance." Princess narrows her eyes, legs crossed as she leans against the back wall and stares straight ahead at Petra. She, too, is considering Petra. "Long time no see, Soroka." A pause, until 'I'm Petra'. "I got that part, mmhmm." The tiara'ed villainess remains tight. "The debut's free, girl." Not 'girlie'. "If you go all the way to 'blow up California' again, after the Girls get done with you, the rest of us who live here-" The Townsvillains, ostensibly. "-will go for round two." Petra sits down. Princess stops on that, looks to a turning-in Buttercup who is finally going for a deep dish granny pizza, thick baking pan crust splitting into six casserole-rich slices, and with some relief, goes for her own so she can have an excuse to do anything else. To clear the taste of reading Petra the pamphlet threats. Across from Buttercup is next to Princess. The gold-armored rich lady looks down at Petra, and then rolls her eyes. Praise follows, and Morbucks takes a bite at a tactical time just to sweat Petra for a pizza enjoying fifteen or so seconds. Then, without even a 'thanks' -- just like the skipped leading 'sorry' -- Princess re-engages. If she's being appeased, Princess Morbucks will take appeasement. With a demure-refined lift of the back of her black-and-gold wrapped palm and the curl of her fingers, Princess swallows and continues. "If those don't shoot beams, I wouldn't draw them in here. But... Well, let's just say the power crown matches my everyday casual battlesuit, that's right."
Petra Soroka	Catching Princess's mouthed disdain actually makes Petra much more comfortable. There's a world of variance contained in the tone of how someone says 'bitch', and it coming from a snotty villainess whose city she tried to blow up at one point is about as content as Petra can be with the label. She is kind of a bitch, as long as you mean it that way. "Flying for serious, huh?" Petra sinks down into the bench, pulling her knee up to her chest and planting her boot directly on the cushion. When framed next to Princess, both Buttercup and Petra sitting like slobs throws Princess's stiff posture into clear relief. "Well, last I heard, she was helping stop a villain in her debut episode, which isn't a bad start to being more of a heroine. Or... antivillain, I guess? Antivillain's not used much, though, as a label." 'Soroka'... when did my last name even come up? Even met with hostility, Petra does her best to stay relaxed, an endeavor helped greatly by the presence of pizza. Petra utilizes a considerable number of napkins while nibbling on a slice, both hands holding it through a protective veil of recycled paper as she side-eyes Morbucks. "Sure, but I mean, it's still only polite. Even if you already know my name through our mutual friends." "God. You can relax, you know. I'm not going to blow up Townsville." Petra sets the pizza down on her plate again and leans back, taking yet another napkin to wipe her lips. "And I've already apologized for that to the people who weren't starting fights in the middle of the street that day, so I'm not giving you one too. But I promise, seriously, that it's never getting that bad again." After a window of time where Princess eats and Petra sips out of the battered water flask she carries everywhere, Petra nods thoughtfully at the reminder that she's currently highly illegally equipped for the state of California. "Right. I totally forgot about that." Petra, despite being here as a villain, gets self conscious about breaking the law-- and more importantly, breaking social tradition. She's the one person in the world who'd thoughtlessly bring a gun in her backpack to class but get stopped by one of those signs that says "This Campus is a Weapon-free Zone". She draws out her compact mirror and flips it open in the same motion, pressing a hand to it to pull out Qetra's and immediately cutting her off before she can speak. "No talking. Could you grab the gunblades real quick?" "Wah... oh, it's Princess and Buttercup, California, huh?" "Yeah, yeah, just hold them until after dinner." "Okay~ bye~" After Qetra's upper body retreats back inside the mirror, Petra snaps it closed and sighs heavily, closing her eyes. "My outfit changes aren't quite as, uh, sleek."
Powerpuff Girls	Buttercup is an easy sell, because, she's mostly just here for the pizza and to hang out. She had a free day, and decided to try and introduce Princess and Petra. They seemed really alike! On vibe. "Well, you figure we don't normally accept plus ones to our trio except on certain episodes. Not on the regular, nah." Buttercup dismisses that. Princess blows slowly on her one-bite taken slice, having already juuust slighly burned her mouth yet again on a bit too greedy of a first nibble. She had been hungry, and it had felt like she was being held ransom at pizza until Buttercup started eating, not to mention the awful vibes of the interaction... Were sitting right next to her. 'This bitch.' The green keeps going, thinking this is normal girl time, and she might not be wrong, but there's some chop in the sea that the green doesn't see. "Never getting that bad again. Well, that's good to hear, but if anything south of that is still fair game I guess I better--" The emerald Puff takes cromnch-spongy bite of the thick crust and cheese layer, and chews for pacing, smirking as she drops her chin while keeping her eyes level, highlighting her brow, just to quirk up one eyebrow. She is really laying it on thick. "Keep an eye on you, huh?" Buttercup waits a moment before breaking into soft chuckles and takes another bite of pizza. Princess closes her eyes, shakes her head, and reaches for a brownpaper napkin off of a rack. She ends with a leaned 'really?' glance at Petra. "You came in here like Bonnie and Clyde's punk kid through a time warp. I come in here like Cleopatra. We aren't the same." The rich girl smarms, reaching to lift a waterglass to her lips and smirk. "The magic compact is nice, though, try reflecting something fitted to you and you'll get about to the level you sound like you think you're at." Princess half-snipes, half-genuinely-observes. Buttercup is grinning. She feels like this is going great. She is also on her third slice of pizza.
Petra Soroka	Petra insists on color-coding her narration too, so that Princess doesn't get to monopolize all the Yellow. "Mhm. There's really nothing to a group of four." Not on the regular, of course. For narrative and pacing reasons. Petra nods, understanding. "Is there even a name for them? Like trios? Quads? Quin... no, that's five." Chop in the sea is normal girl time, for Petra. Uncomplicated interactions are rare and frightening to her, a treat mostly reserved for fights with monsters and hangouts with the one girl as stupid as she is with a positive opinion of her. Barbs between nasty girls is her natural state. Petra fidgets awkwardly while Buttercup stares at her, suddenly hyperaware of the presence of her hands and unable to meet the Puff's eyes, then snorts at the punchline. "It's true! Who knows what I might get up to. It's not like I really have a reason to cause trouble in Townsville, though; you have plenty of villains already, and I don't actually want to hurt for anyone here."} Why would Petra want to hurt anyone here? She slouches back in her bench, a little insecure in her villain status. That was kind of the question that brought Petra to talk to Princess anyways, the necessity for a villainous drive. "You're welcome to come stop me when I get up to something anywhere else, though." In response to Princess's criticism, Petra's sitting posture only gets more disrespectful. She leans an elbow on her knee, creating some kind of superposition where she simultaneously violates the ettiquette of keeping her knee below the table and not resting her elbows above it, combined with the less than ladylike lazy distance between her legs. "You sound like Doctor Eggman.") A snort, and at least a little hope that Morbucks recognizes the name of the Greatest Supervillain in the World. Petra takes her own crust to begin gnawing on it, one tiny bite at a time. "Fitted clothing makes you more distinct. He's always talking about bold, primary colors too, which you've sort of got on lock. It's totally recognizable and well put together, I'll give you that." "I don't know if that's really my type of thing, though. It's not like I'm worried about being on TV, or, like, in a PR video or whatever. I think I mostly show up in unstable cell phone camera footage." It's true, that most of her appearances are either eyewitness reports and amateur footage. The most intentionally dressed up she's been for a camera was the maid-off, but the Townsville capes don't need to know about that. Petra's hand twitches for her cigarettes, and she automatically shifts like she's going to stand up, but resists the impulse. "Maybe I'll think about it next time I'm at CasGil." Of course she can't resist from a little flex, though. "Maybe something there will catch my eye."
Powerpuff Girls	"A quartet." The ginger-bobs and gold villainess declares dryly, truly unimpressed and unafraid to express such at Petra's mental lapse. "The arrangement that every Townsvillain gets into with the Powerpuffs. One on three, makes four. And it's every superfan's dream to make that a four on one, isn't it?" Princess doesn't guess. She just knows. Unlike the Girls and the Boys, Morbucks doesn't have the same quality of eye that the Chemical X enjoyers do. Less prominent and dark hazel rather than a primary color, and reflecting a red sheen from her crown's projected augmented reality interface, Princess doesn't find anything new in what Petra is telling her. Much the opposite: It's the exhausting sort of personal-usual that she had already had the experiences to find tawdry. Things past the four frame-lines of an episode. The cut content and B-roll of a real life. "It's cheap to talk and act like that." She wraps the word in scoffing disdain, as if nothing about her could ever be so luster-lacking. "Not worried about being seen? That's a lie." The ginger scoffs, adding a pitched-up 'Ha!', with a soft k-emphasis, like the first puff of a 'ka-ha-ha!'. "You've given up on looking good when you are. But you're trying so so hard to look good for me, aren't you? Dropping names and compliments like they'll be picked up for you." Buttercup starts sensing this might not be going so great, but the emerald Puff does not have the right mental state to really get into the middle of two Yellows having color to color communication. "It's not like we're looking for more villains. Blossom is always banging on about how we need to reach out to people, and not just see them as 'heroes and villains'." Buttercup almost sounds like she's complaining, extra-rough... but it's mostly invoking Blossom's ideas rather than her own. Shifting to sitting on the bench seating cross-legged, Buttercup vibes a lot more with sitting however she likes and enjoying her time, but... Is that really what Petra's doing? "Welcome to stop you, huh?" Escapes Buttercup, leaning back herself and rubbing off her hands with a napkin. "You're not tired of being ganged up on, huh." The ginger adds. Buttercup frowns lightly, but doesn't have a witty comment to make after, having to chew on that one. Princess Delilah Morbucks III (her legal name, first name Princess, middle name Delilah) looks down at her compostable, greasy plate. She doesn't have to look at anything to consult a screen, a search, the power of money putting all human intellect at her fingertips. She could video call in the finest evil minds in the world just to check her numbers and get a second opinion if the first wasn't good enough. But after fourteen years of episodes and power suits, some lessons stick. "When you decide you want to win, rather than losing to prove a point, you won't find it in a clothing store. And the best CasGil collections are in lapis lazuli. You don't look like a blue type to me. . ." Morbucks's plate isn't as interesting as the impulse that she follows towards Petra almost getting up. The dodge-away that goes nowhere seems to the rich girl to be some other motion, something else she's used to. "So what fits you? It's not Mesopotamian blue."
Petra Soroka	"I didn't say I wasn't worried about being seen." The disdainful 'ka!' strikes Petra hard through any layers of performance she put up. She immediately bristles, sitting up straighter and exhaling an annoyed 'hahh' beneath her emphasized retort. "I said I wasn't worried about official appearances. The ones with, like, merchandising, and fucking-- makeup departments, and stuff." Petra drums her knuckles on the wood, pizza forgotten for now, drawn up in the faster pace of an argument, even a low-stakes one. "That's the kind that, that sort of branding is needed for. When you're, like, thinking about whether your character design is memorable for TV. You know? There's personal fashion, and then there's costume design. I'm not, like, totally against it, it's just not really an aesthetic that really... jumps to mind, for me. So it's something I'd have to construct, if I even want to." "Like..." Petra's mind wanders to Lilian, as usual. "What's the point of having iconography without also having, like, something in mind for it to evoke? For merchandise, or... fear, or whatever. And that's just a particular kind of fear, anyways, to seem... people are already afraid of me, anyways." "And--" On the latter part, impressing with names. Petra's body language is too honest to conceal being embarrassed speechless, mouth hanging open then closed into a pout, upraised knee slotted beneath her shoulder as her posture returns to a slouch. Embarrassed haughtiness takes the form of her hand supporting beneath her chin as she looks away at the rest of the restaurant. "And. You only know me as the person who nearly blew up Townsville. I thought it would be appropriate, to give you a better idea of who you're dealing with, since I've seen a lot more of you." The pizza's cold now, obviously. Petra picks up her second slice, turning her gaze over to Buttercup, tearing off a corner of the crust to gnaw on while contemplating. "... It doesn't make a difference if there's an invitation to, or not, right? It's not like my opinion on whether you should come stop me from doing villain shit has any impact on whether you do. If I do it loud, then the heroes come, and if I don't, they don't." She looks over to Princess, wondering for the first time why she sat next to her instead of Buttercup, but doesn't respond to her just yet. It rings a little too close to other advice she's gotten for her to brush off, but she also doesn't have a response readily considered, like she does for Buttercup. "I've talked about it with Lilian, obviously. It'd be totally unfair for me to say something like, 'I'd be mad at you if you fought me', just because we're-- we're close. Heroes fight villains; that's how it goes. So I just-- I just, like, get it out of the way, that I get it."
Petra Soroka	Petra lets Princess finish talking, conversational tone-shift settling in during the gap, silence cushioned with chatter from other tables and music from the arcade. She watches a teenager playing a rail shooter, engrossed for a bit, until she turns back to Princess sitting on her other side, lips twisted thoughtfully. "You said it, right? Three on one. Anyone who joins in makes it a four on one. It's the same outside of Townsville, too; heroes fight in groups against villains who fight alone." Strong like a villain, even though she's a hero. "Most people like to think of themselves as heroes; it's the sort of... cultural consensus, that 'almost everyone' is 'good', except for the ones who are 'evil'. So being ganged up on is natural. It's the same if I'm a villain or not. As a villain, though, I fight back." Petra shrugs and picks up the half-eaten slice of pizza; tension breaking, and with it, the smothering prickling-itch that settled so gradually that it only draws notice when it fades. "Who said anything about losing, though." Petra thinks about Lilian shooting her over and over, throttling her until she passed out. Lilian leaned over her, drawing out handcuffs. Curses from Tamamo, and the Kana being hauled away. Hibiki blocking her way out of the Pumpkin Planet and forcing her to run away while battered. "I always win."
Powerpuff Girls	'I said I wasn't worried about official appearances.' Buttercup, sitting crosslegged on the pizza pub bench, rests disquietly. From her last comment, her eyes fall, unfocused completely from any task and staring blankly at a middle point past the back wall. Directing her attention just into listening, the conversation shifts, and she lingers liminally between speech and silence. Something to say, but she fails to find the words, so she listens for an opening like a boxer leaning against ropes. She'd get her opportunity, but-- It was difficult for Buttercup to bear out the complex knot in her, worn on cheeks and the small muscles around her eyes. Worry. Blind worry, an unusual worry, with tape on the fingers that sought answers from being cut. Princess has no problem with evocation. "Do you think there's a difference? Seriously." The ginger bobs give personality to even the light tilts of the supervillain's head, the artificially red glow of her own eyes a projection from her power crown. The roll of the thought, first with a left-tilt-bob, and then a right-tilt-bob, and then the gentle and haughty roll of her chin up, and her eyes slightly down. "You said it yourself. People are always afraid of you - anyways." Lifting a black-wrapped index finger to above her right temple, to tap black glove to gold tiara, Princess pantomimes understanding as glove clicks to metal. Her finger clicks-and-stays, elbow propped on the bench table, black index to gold crown seated on poufy sea of ginger. "Petra." Princess's eyes slide off of Petra and rest behind her - on the groups at the other benches, seated along the bar. Augmented Reality red eyes drill down the lane, and catch more than one or two people staring back. Princess gunbarrels them with just her unblinking eyes. The normal people, the little people, balk and rapidly look away. Guilty, caught, unchallenging. They go back to their eating, a little hurried, but not altogether spooked. "Hero. Villain. Super-at-all. I think the Multiverse's media has a decent term for it that I'd..." Princess's eyes saccade-snap back to Petra, but her expression is admitting-soft. The European classic passive voice for WASPoids comes out approaching-warm from the ginger woman. "... not hate to be associated with. Elite does have a ring," Her gloved left hand sweeps up from her side, hand lifted, and her eyes meaningfully take a slow and lingering trip to her empty ring finger's span. "Doesn't it?" Buttercup shrugs. "It's not bad." Princess takes the noncommittance of the Puff in the same tone as her passive-voiced approval, chuckling in mild pause. "It puts you in the right frame of mind. We're the Elite. Which means we're always performing. This is just as official an appearance for these people," Princess hits a fairly hard 'these people', causing Buttercup to give the rich girl a dirty look -- and no voiced complaint. Morbucks carries on, unstopped. "- as if there was some giant lizard demolishing the block outside."
Powerpuff Girls	Buttercup exhales, emerald eyes dipping, then elbowing the table herself. "Look, Petra, I--" Her other hand finds the back of her neck, thumb dipping behind the collar of her green shirt to squeeze and try to relieve the pressure she was feeling. The neck strain of being tense in thought. 'I get it' is difficult to work through. "--It's not like I..." Wanted to hit Petra, much the opposite, so Buttercup takes a breath and closes her eyes. She tries something different. "Thanks." Buttercup-rough, sotto-voice, it's almost drowned out by the din of the crowd, but she looks at Petra and her lips can be read. "For permission to care. I guess." Besides Petra, Princess pushes forward her plate and sits back, floofs of hair smushing slightly against the back wall. "If you want to drop the artifice, it'd be a private event. Pizza places are for being seen... as normal. We're here to be - so - normal." Buttercup hits 'guilty' at this, not making eye contact. She is guilty, of not asking, just telling and expecting and getting. And setting this up, too - playing at normal - for Petra, and Princess. 'For', but it is a demand as well. A performance. Princess and Buttercup both simply are not normal, and know they are not, and are resigned to being not. Their friends - their people, those inside the circle - can only be others like that. Others like... 'I always win.' Buttercup grimaces. She knows the words aren't true. Not because of feeling it, or a special power she has to hear - but because Petra herself had made them not true. A lie that struck the emerald Puff like a blow. And so she smiles, thinly. Her habit, used to taking hits. "Well, do you want to? Drop--" A dismissive wave around. "The artifact?" "Artifice." Princess corrects. "That's what I said." The emerald Puff grumbles.