Who: Maria and Lois-The-Mole When: 3/16 (Day after this) Where: Giddy-Ups, NYC honkytonk bar What: Maria needs intel from the White House, and that's Lois. And a drink, which is also Lois. Rating: Potentially high for language, depending how drunk and pissed off they get.
She had no answers. Maria hadn't realized how frustrating that was until she got the announcement of the MHMRA dumped on her desk; she might have had some prior warning that he was pushing for all mutants and relations in concentration camps schools, with the all-human tac ops squad to keep them secure, might have had some inkling that he wanted some kind of "accountability" for heroes, but they'd had no prior warning.
She'd sent her agents sniffing, but this was a card in her hand that she held close to her vest. She dropped an email to the White House Press Secretary - more importantly, after that memorable interview for the article she'd written about a year ago, Lois Lane something of a friend, and everyone knew that Lois was as close to a civilian friend as she got. Asking her if she wanted to meet for a drink was not without precedent, even if it was unusual.
If her agents, being secret agents, thought she was going to try and pry intel out of her as long as she was at it, well, they were half-right. Lois would just be volunteering what she knew as well, and knowing that they were on the same side, she might not even make her work for it.
On instinct, she circled the block and the pink neon cowboy hat sign twice, and only entered once she was satisfied she wasn't being followed. It was a noisy night, she noted as she assess the room, bypassing the crowd around the bar to snag a booth, sliding with a series of squeaks into the red vinyl. The wood walls were shivering with echoes of shouts and the jukebox and rhythmic creak of the mechanical bull as someone, squealing, tried their luck. The cowgirl hats were well in attendance, and still more hung up on the antler racks as the girls shimmied out of booths and chairs and danced to Brooks & Dunn.
She usually didn’t like the crowds, and still hated the press of people around her, worried over who might overhear. But there was a cover in plain sight, in being just a face in the crowd, just another woman in jeans and a leather coat, ordering a beer as she waited for a friend.