WHAT: Valkyrie shows up in Vallo and re-meets Carol WHERE: Al's Dive Bar WHEN: Around 10 p.m. tonight WARNINGS: Drinking, sadness, guilt STATUS: Complete
One thing that hadn’t changed throughout Carol’s tenure as the owner of Al’s Dive Bar was the consistency of her business. She could count on the same crowd of regulars most nights, and though her staff was lacking in Outlanders today, she preferred it that way. The team of locals who had signed on for the gig were trustworthy. They knew the fickle nature of Outlanders and their businesses and were still willing to take the risk. She was glad she could count on them.
That didn’t mean she wasn’t here night after night to keep an eye on things and ensure everything flowed smoothly. Not long ago, she’d been trying to take a step back, be less of a hands-on owner, and focus on becoming a parent. It was hard to believe that was less than a year ago. Everything had changed; it always did. She should have known better than to expect she was any kind of exception to the rule.
She remembered the days she had thought Vallo was a surprise vacation; now, seeing it as anything more than her personal hell was a struggle. She may have tried her hardest early on to delude herself into thinking she could get over losing so many of her nearest and dearest so quickly, but she’d backslid since then. She loved her family that remained, but she had lost enough that it was a fight not to be bitter. Keeping a smile on for Kamala hurt her some days. The move helped the shallower cuts, but three months wasn’t time enough to heal the deeper wounds.
Al’s was the perfect way to keep busy. Where holding onto the house and its memories of her wife had ached in the worst ways, there was a more pleasant ache here. This was where she and Emmeline had their first date, and they loved it here. But this place was her own, too. She had taken it up in Alex’s absence, made sure it stayed thriving, and at this point, she’d live out the rest of her days here until she finally burned through the Space Stone’s longevity.
The crowd was dwindling as the busiest hours passed. It was nearing ten p.m., and for the second night in a row, the sun had yet to even start to drop; looking outside, you’d have thought it was noon instead. It was making people surprisingly grumpy and not too keen to stick around the bar, which Carol supposed was fair enough. She had stepped behind the bar to let the bartender take a break and was idly towel-drying a mug when the front door opened on a new customer. She dropped down to tuck the clean glass back into place, then popped back up, rubbing the towel across the bar top.
“Hey, what can I–” She stopped mid-sentence at the face that greeted her. Astonishment had her nearly swallow her tongue when she realized the feeling accompanying it—butterflies stirring to life in the pit of her belly, warmth fuzzing in her chest. “Valkyrie?”
At the sound of her name, Valkyrie stared at the bartender, not recognizing her.
"Who's asking?"
What was one more thing that didn't make sense in what was becoming an increasingly longer list? The fact that she'd just turned to Thor and gestured to the chair aboard the ship serving as his throne only to blink and be planetside. But not on any planet she recognized, whose apparent citizens included alien races she'd never seen or heard of.
Now she'd walked into a bar because the only way to think this over properly was with a drink, only to be recognized for either who or what she was.
"And while you're answering, I'm going to need something strong."
Well, that put a quick damper on the inner conflict Carol felt seeing yet another woman she loved in another timeline. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that—whether it was disappointing or a relief. For now, she focused instead on fulfilling Val’s request, turning to scoop a bottle of aqua-colored liquor off the shelf.
“Captain Marvel,” she answered, pulling out a glass to fill. “And this is Blue Stuff. Alien liquor. It packs a punch, but I’m sure you can handle it.” She remembered watching Wanda try this for the first time a couple of months back and later hearing her describe it as tasting like jet fuel and raspberries. It didn’t have the same instant effect on her with her alien-like tolerance, and she suspected Valkyrie would be the same.
Captain Marvel. Valkyrie knew that name, and it warranted a closer look. As she slid onto a stool, she sized up the other woman, a slight smirk forming. All sorts of people turned up on Sakaar, either ending up as scrappers, as she had, or gladiators, as had Thor, at her hand. News of the galaxy eventually made its way to the trash planet, so the name Captain Marvel was not unknown even before she'd shown up. Val hadn't met her then, or even seen her, but she had heard the Grandmaster ranting about her stealing his gladiators away.
Val wasn't worried about revealing that she knew the name, taking the glass from the infamous captain herself and saying, "What is Captain Marvel doing slinging drinks in some dive… wherever we are?"
Examining the glass, she gave a small shrug and then drank it down, not reacting to that raspberry jet fuel taste. (Had she known Wanda's assessment, she'd have deemed it accurate.) It was potent, not an instant effect, but Valkyrie had tried enough alcohol in her life to know when something was strong. That didn't stop her from sliding out the glass for a refill. If she was in some unknown situation there was one thing Valkyrie knew to do. Drink to take the edge off.
A grin sliced across Carol’s face. So, Val was that new—showed up on the street and walked right into a bar. The fondness that came over her with that realization had her shaking her head as she poured another helping of Blue Stuff into Valkyrie’s glass. She studied her for a moment before she decided that, if that was the case, it was on her to act as the welcoming committee.
“This is Vallo,” she said. “It’s a pocket dimension outside of all of our universes. You’re pulled here by magic for reasons we don’t really know, and until it decides to let you go again, you’re stuck here. I’ve been here almost three years. This dive is mine. Less call for cosmic superheroes here than you’d think, so I settled in.”
"You're saying I'm trapped… in a pocket dimension?" Valkyrie replied, genuinely looking for confirmation, before letting out a soft, incredulous laugh. "I finally left Sakaar, went home, destroyed home," she said with a slight grimace, "and was on my way to a new home and instead… I'm here. Vallo. Trapped."
Right, that called for another drink, and fortunately, it was there, waiting and ready. She slammed it back even quicker than the first and felt the first of its effects only a few moments later. "Yeah, that's good, at least."
“That’s the last thing you remember? The destruction of Asgard?” Carol questioned. That was a while ago for the Valkyrie she knew—almost a decade, at this point. If she was fresh from that point in her life, from finally setting aside the life of a scrapper and trying to step up again for Thor, she was practically a different person.
Valkyrie considered asking for another refill, but instead regarded Carol with suspicion. She caught the tone of that question, along with the fact that Carol had recognized her when she walked in.
"Spit it out, Marvel," she said. "What do you know that I don't?"
“I know that was almost ten years ago from the last memories I have of home,” Carol replied, unfazed by the look on Val’s face. She understood the suspicion and wasn’t looking to exacerbate it, but dumping a load of information on her didn’t seem like the kindest move either. She would mete out the information slowly, and Val would have to take it. “The people you saved that day eventually re-settled Tønsberg and renamed it New Asgard. Which is here, actually.”
At that, Valkyrie slid the glass back toward Carol and said, "Another. Ten years? And what do you mean New Asgard is here? Is Thor here?" Her mind was spinning, and while she now felt slightly buzzed, which was a wonder in and of itself, it wasn't really from the alcohol.
Carol obliged and poured another helping. They were closing in on the end of this bottle, but she had plenty more when it was gone. “Sometimes places appear here just like people, even whole villages. Some of the locals aren’t thrilled, but most of them are fine. Thor was here for a while. A couple of years, on and off. Some people disappear and then come back. It’s all…” She waved her unoccupied hand vaguely. “Kind of fickle. No good reasons or explanations. It just is.”
A pocket dimension that could trap you or spit you out at will. That was something.
When Val raised the glass to her lips this time, she just sipped at it. "That sounds annoying." But maybe she'd be on her way out sooner rather than later.
“That’s putting it nicely,” Carol said. She reached into her pocket for her phone, checking the DOA app to find the new arrival alert. She checked it off and tapped out a quick message about bringing the arrival in for debriefing later before putting it away again.
“But,” she continued, “we’ve got a good set-up while you’re here. The government gets you identification, starter cash, and housing if you want it. They don’t track you or force anything on you, and there are plenty more of us in the same position as you. Some people get comfortable and settle down. I don’t know if I’d recommend that myself.”
Even though she’d already stated she’d done it—claiming the bar as her own—there was an undercurrent of bitterness in her tone. She’d gotten happy and had it all ripped away from her. Now she’d shifted to resigned, and it would have to be good enough.
Valkyrie squinted her eyes at Carol, who'd already told her she'd settled in, now warning against that, her voice sounding sour. She was curious, of course, but she didn't press. "Sounds like you need to finish off that bottle," she suggested instead, taking another drink of her own.
"So tell me how we know each other ten years from now. Were we ever enemies? Lovers? Oooh, enemies to lovers? Did we hook up once, and then I never called you back?" There was definitely a theme there, but Valkyrie figured if they actually knew each other it was closest to the last suggestion in some shape or form.
Carol almost joined Valkyrie in drinking but decided against it. She tried not to drink while she was ‘on the clock’, but maybe when her bartender got back from their break she’d steal Val away. In the meantime, she poured the last of the Blue Stuff into Valkyrie’s glass—no doubt she would go through it. She had seen that tolerance at work plenty of times, and even half a bottle of Blue Stuff probably wouldn’t be enough to get her plastered.
She considered the question with a hum for a moment. How did you tell a person who had just arrived in a pocket dimension and had never seen you before in their life that, in one timeline you had jammed in your head, you were in love with her? While concurrently, in another timeline, you’d been in love with an entirely different woman? Not to mention here, in this dimension away from all that, you’d been married and in love with yet another woman?
You probably didn’t, she decided.
“Not enemies,” came her answer. “Though I think you did hate my guts for a little while.” After I slept with you and ghosted for a year afterward.Not enemies was as much a confirmation of Valkyrie's other guesses as anything, and she couldn't help but smirk in response, peering over her glass to check Carol out again. She fit Val's type to a tee, so she could only salute her future self for whatever role the captain played in her life to come.
"There's very few people I hate, one of whom I finally saw ended, so I very much doubt that's the case, Marv." She realized she didn't know or didn't remember Carol's actual name, so nicknames would have to suffice. Even her hatred toward herself had abated in the wake of Hela's death and her role in it.
Not that she was going there with Captain Marvel right now. Who might already know, who knew? Not Valkyrie. She found herself less disturbed than she'd have expected at the idea of someone knowing more about her than she knew herself. Or maybe that was the alcohol working.
Carol’s expression instantly softened at the casual use of a nickname she loved in their timeline. Val was the only one who had ever called her that and the only one who was allowed. But it didn’t help the part of her that ached to feel Valkyrie’s touch again in whatever way she could. She got her share of intimate, soft touches from Wanda when she needed it, but there was something different about a lover’s touch. She missed it.
“Marv is fine, by the way,” she said. “But it’s Carol. You can call me that, too.”
"Yeah, I might," Valkyrie said easily, not having missed the way Carol had reacted to the nickname. Deciphering that reaction was harder, and everything felt a bit fuzzy around the edges, so she didn't put a whole lot of effort into it.
"Well, Marv, this is all a lot to take in, but I am happy to know that I still have exceptional taste in my future."
“Depends on who you ask,” Carol joked wryly. One thing that was constant in every timeline she remembered living was that much-less-pleasant nickname: Annihilator. The Kree definitely wouldn’t be writing any rave reviews about any part of her in the near future, but at least she had resolved that in one timeline, even if it was ultimately only a band-aid. She didn’t expect they’d start revering her like a god anytime soon, and she deeply hoped they didn’t.
“You need something to eat?” she asked next, raising a brow at Valkyrie. She remembered always being a little protective of how much Valkyrie drank—but then again, in that timeline, she was much less guilty of doing the same. The only thing stopping her from actively drowning her sorrows here was Kamala.
"This place has food?" Valkyrie asked, looking surprised. "Is it safe to eat?"
Maybe that was rude, given she was talking to the owner of the bar, but it was a dive. Which happened to coincide with the sort of place Val had come to love over the years.
She'd pretty much had Carol's full attention so far, but then someone had approached the bar, wanting another drink. She took the opportunity to watch the other woman, remembering what she knew about her.
Valkyrie had heard the term Annihilator in reference to Captain Marvel before, but it wasn't an automatic connection, nor did she know the reasoning behind it. Val had cared so little for the rest of the world while on Sakaar. She'd only wanted to drown her past out completely and pass the time until she died. The rest of the world was noise, static in the background.
That haze had allowed her to serve so long as a scrapper, not caring who she screwed over in taking them to the Grandmaster. It also kept her judgment free of Carol right then. Well, almost. She was definitely taking a moment to appreciate the view as Carol leaned into the counter on the opposite end of the bar, sliding that customer's drink over to him.
Carol only had a chance to shoot Valkyrie a mock-offended look before her attention was taken away from her. It had been easy to tune out the rest of the bar while they talked, especially with business slowing, but she moved away for a moment to take care of the new customer. Her service was brisker; it was clear she didn’t linger over other customers the way she’d lingered over Val, but given just the small bits of information she’d divulged so far, that was likely obvious.
She was set free when her regular bartender returned. After a quick exchange, Carol returned to Val, pausing only to select a different bottle of alien liquor. This one glowed a strange magenta color, and she wiggled it enticingly with one hand as she rounded the bar while the other reached for Val’s arm.
“My cook makes the best burgers,” she informed her. “And you’ll want something on your stomach while we drink this. Come on, let’s take the table by the window.” She nodded toward one across the room that one of her employees had just finished wiping down.
Val wasn't going to argue, letting Carol lead her over to the table and taking a seat. It was weird, learning someone she'd never met knew her, had some sort of history with her, but the familiarity Carol granted her was also kind of nice. To be recognized as Valkyrie, from the future, meant she'd built something for herself.
It didn't hurt that it turned out Captain Marvel was hot and clearly into women. She wondered how weird it would be for Carol if they were to hook up here. Because, yes, her mind was already going there. And yes, she was going to blame that partially on the Blue Stuff. Now there was apparently magenta stuff as well.
"Yeah, I'll take a burger. See how much I can trust you, Marv," she teased.
“Completely,” Carol assured her, “but I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” One of her employees approached from the bar with two glasses, and she turned to him with a grateful smile. “Hey, Lenny, two bacon cheeseburgers for me and the lady. Tell Crockett I’m trying really hard to impress her, so I need his best.”
The young man nodded earnestly and headed toward the kitchen door behind the bar.
“This one is Lanu Viole,” she read from the label. Her translator clicked the words into place quickly. “Purple Stuff, I guess.” She shook her head as she cracked the bottle open and filled the two glasses Lenny had brought them. “The aliens from this world get zero points for creativity.”
Valkyrie accepted her glass, elbows on the table, leaning forward. "The aliens were not trying to impress as hard as you are," she mused, a soft grin on her face as she tried the new liquor. Her buzz was maintaining, which was nice, so she wasn't in as much of a hurry to drink it down as before. Carol, on the other hand, was several glasses behind.
"You realize you're way behind, Captain, so you need to catch up. This isn't all that bad; like they mixed cinnamon and cough syrup. Maybe not my first choice, or even thirtieth, but it's potent." Drinks that had a legitimate effect on her after glasses rather than bottles were hard to come by.
Interesting mix. Not as intense as of a taste as jet fuel—which Carol agreed with and favored because of her fondness for the scent. It sounded like a variation on Mary Poppins’ ‘spoonful of sugar’ method, with cinnamon subbed in. She took a brave swallow and, though her nose wrinkled, Val was right: it wasn’t bad.
“So, tell me something, Val.” She lifted her gaze to Val’s again. “What did you think your life would look like before I spoiled a little bit of it for you?”
Valkyrie's taste in alcohol wasn't exactly trustworthy. She'd drink nearly anything, so Carol hopefully considered that before tasting it. "Well, since it's been all of fifteen minutes since I decided to actually do something, hadn't thought much about it. I guess I'll have gone back to being a Valkyrie. Hopefully have lots of sex, definitely still be drinking, but it felt good to wake up. So maybe I'd be more proactive?" Fighting had felt good too; she could see herself training again.
That was as far as she would consider what her future would look like if she hadn't ended up here. "Are you going to spoil more?"
Carol’s lips twitched into a little smile as she listened to Val’s thoughts. They were barebones but solid, very much an outline of who she would have become down the line back home. She wondered how different she might become now that she was here, missing out on living that decade between them. She theorized not much – Valkyrie was Valkyrie in every form, and there was honor, dedication, and so much love buried inside her.
She shook her head in answer. “No. Not right now, at least. It doesn’t feel fair. But you can ask me anything you want about me, and I’ll answer you.”
"Have you slept with me more than once?" Valkyrie asked with a cheeky grin.
Carol groaned good-naturedly. “I should have expected you to find a loophole.” She smirked, narrowed her eyes at Valkyrie, considering her, then gave the honest answer she’d promised: “Yeah, I have.”
Valkyrie could have continued with that line of questioning, but not knowing was sort of a turn-on.
"What were you doing before you showed up at Sakaar and royally pissed off the Grandmaster?"
Carol looked down at her glass, then raised it to take a drink. Her visit to Sakaar had been back in her early Captain Marvel days, not long after she’d destroyed the Supreme Intelligence. She’d been on a mission to find Yon-Rogg when she’d learned he hadn’t made it back to Hala in the ship she’d sent him off in. She hadn’t known Sakaar existed until she did, and from there, she’d done what she did best: acted like a bull in a china shop until she got what she wanted.
“Finding the Skrulls a new home planet,” she answered. It was quieter but still honest; she was keeping to her word, no matter what. “And before that, taking down the Supreme Intelligence on Hala.”
"What's the story there?" Val asked, noting how Carol's voice got softer. And because she'd said she'd answer anything, she added, "If you want to tell it." She was giving the captain an out even though she was naturally curious to learn as much as possible, and she was starting with what she already knew bits and pieces of.
It was funny to hear Val asking her for those details when Carol had given them to her years ago. She should know all of this. She should know Carol better than anyone presently here. As well as Natasha in her original timeline—the two women she’d loved more than anything in those rough years between the Snap and the Blip, who had, in different ways, been there for her like she hadn’t allowed for years prior.
She hadn’t taken the time to process the dissonance there yet, but after tonight, she knew it would be plaguing her mind for a while. At least she had sorted the differences between the two when it came to her relationships with Maria and Monica already; it very helpfully narrowed the scope of her obsessing.
After another pour into the bottle and a long drink, she launched into it the best way she knew: calm, matter-of-fact, no pulling punches, like a mission debrief. She described how she’d ended up with the Kree, her years as Vers, the revelation that the people she believed were hers were victimizing Skrulls, rediscovering where she’d come from, and ultimately deciding she would right the Kree’s wrongs by destroying the Supreme Intelligence.
She didn’t go into much detail, especially when it came to her personal relationships—mostly because she had two sets to choose from now: the life where Auntie Carol was a cover story, and the life where it was exactly what it seemed. It was a wonder her head didn’t explode from the conflict.
By the time she finished, exhausted, their burgers had arrived, and she was happy for the distraction. “Fucking cheers,” she chuckled, lifting her burger and tipping it toward Val with a smirk before she took a bite.
Carol went far beyond filling in the bits and pieces that had made their way to Sakaar, and Valkyrie frowned as she listened, slowly drinking the aptly named Purple Stuff. It was hard not to wonder how much of this she should have known already and if they were close in another life of hers.
The cheeseburgers were a welcome distraction and Val discovered she was hungry. She returned the mock toast and then proceeded to bite into the burger to see if it lived up to the lofty expectations Carol had placed upon it.
"Don't know if I trust you completely yet," Val said only after she'd demolished half the burger, "but you were right about these being the best."
She took a couple more bites as she considered her next question, which broke the rules of only asking about Carol, but she didn't care. "How well do we know each other?"
Carol was about two-thirds of the way through her burger and paused mid-chew at Valkyrie’s question. It would be easy to wave off the question since it technically encompassed both of them, but it was fair. She had already admitted that they’d slept together more than once. Val was more than smart enough to know there was some kind of relationship at play, even if she didn’t know the extent of it. She wanted to stand by her promise of keeping any more spoilers about Valkyrie’s life from her. Ending up here was inevitably going to change things to some degree. It wasn’t up to her to mold Valkyrie into who she knew, who she wanted.
But what if this was all she got? What if Vallo was giving her one night, and then it was pulling Valkyrie back? She wasn’t sure if anyone had disappeared overnight, but there had definitely been those around for shorter stints—a week, a month. Not all of them were long-termers here for years. What if molding her wasn’t actually a concern?
“As far as you’re concerned, we just met,” she said, smirking and joking. “So, I guess we’ve got a clean slate.” She met Valkyrie’s gaze, and it was clear that the mirth she was putting out didn’t reach her eyes. The sadness that ached inside her reflected out, making her feel like a mournful puppy—which she promptly tried to cover by going for another big bite of her burger.
Ultimately, she couldn’t take the chance. She was too afraid to push too far or reveal too much. It was so unlike her that the Valkyrie who did know her, who loved her, would have immediately known something was wrong. And it was because this world had started to break her.
Valkyrie didn't miss that broken look in Carol's eyes even as she tried to cover it up with a smirk. That clean slate was clearly not what the other woman wanted, but Val knew she couldn't just play a role in an already-written story, nor would she try. That wasn't who she was.
"No more questions then," she said easily, meeting Carol's eyes, and even though she didn't know the other woman, she attempted to be reassuring. "I'm at a brilliant point in my life for that blank slate, no matter whether that's at home or here."
She lifted her glass to finish her drink before asking, "Can you handle that, Marv?"
With her burger polished off, Carol mirrored Valkyrie in finishing her drink before nodding. “Yeah, of course I can. I want that for you. Trust me, this–” She gestured between the two of them. “It’s the least of my problems. Sure, it sucks you’re not my Val, but this place has put me through its own kind of hell. Having your face here is a nice treat.”
"Are you telling me this blank slate will put me through hell?" Valkyrie asked, sliding her glass over for a refill, though she stopped Carol halfway. If there was any indication that the full spectrum of everything was hitting finally, that half-full glass was it. A pocket world with someone who knew her — because any lingering questions about that were answered in how Carol had looked at her.
A life she hadn't lived yet. Maybe Carol meant it when she said she could handle this, but Valkyrie didn't know whether she could trust that. The idea that she had a past in the future with Carol was intriguing. Still, it felt incredibly surreal, and she was almost content to let it play out as such until she realized that the woman across from her was very real and anything she did would have actual consequences.
Despite filling her own glass to the same level as Valkyrie’s, Carol didn’t pick it up to drink from it. Instead, she sighed. “Probably,” she admitted. “It’s hard to explain, but… you settle in. You get comfortable. You start to believe you’re the exception, you know? Just because other people have lost loved ones, and our people disappear on a monthly basis, that doesn’t mean it will hit you. You’re safe, and so are the people you love. You can fall in love, get married, plan for the future, and you’ll get it.”
Now, she drank—a long, slow sip before returning the glass to the table. “And then Vallo proves you wrong. It takes away almost everything and everyone that has become part of you, then leaves you to pick up the pieces with what you have left.” She shrugged. “Not anything I haven’t experienced before, but it hits differently the second time.” A pause, her brows furrowing thoughtfully. “Or third. I think it’s the third, actually.”
"Yeah, that sounds like hell," Valkyrie agreed. She knew what losing everything and everyone was like, something Carol undoubtedly knew about her already. "Once was enough."
She reached her hand across the table, not for the bottle but to take Carol's hand in her own. "I don't know what to make of any of this, really. But I do know that I've lost everyone before, and I know how much that hurts."
She'd only just been reminded of it even, granting her extra empathy that felt somewhat foreign still.
Carol smiled softly, turning her hand over to grasp Valkyrie’s and squeeze. She almost said I know but course-corrected and said, “Thank you. I think I’ve done enough trauma-dumping on you for one night. I’ll try not to make it a habit.”
"I don't know, maybe that's a new way to get to know people," Valkyrie replied, missing that Carol had called it night when she was pretty sure she'd shown up at noon. "Just share everything terrible at once and hope things work out. You never know; maybe they will. And since this is the weirdest experience I've had in a while, you might have a pass anyway. Or maybe that was having my entire life uprooted by two Asgardians finding their way to Sakaar. Either way, cheers," she said easily, lifting her glass in a mock toast.
"So, what's next?"
“I should get you to the DOA to get checked in. Department of Outlander Affairs.” Carol made sure she specified that—more than one new Outlander had commented on the other meaning for the department’s initialism. She checked her watch and smiled in thanks when Lenny approached to clear their plates and glasses away.
“Ready to go?”
"Lead the way," Valkyrie said, not realizing she was still nursing a buzz until she stood up. "How far away is it? Because if I show up still intoxicated, I'm totally blaming you."
“Well, I could carry you,” Carol teased, reaching out to lend her free hand to Val. “But Vallo has this cool teleportation system called Waypoints. Just don’t throw up, alright?”
Val scoffed at the idea of throwing up but then wondered if she'd ever been that drunk around Carol and sincerely hoped not. That would take some time to get used to, wondering just what the other woman knew or had seen. But she pushed the thought out of her head and instead took Carol's hand, letting her lead the way to the Waypoint. She soon learned why Carol had given that warning, but the only effect was she was momentarily less steady on her feet, stumbling into Carol before righting herself.
"Convenient."
She looked around; this area of the city was much nicer than where she'd arrived. "Seems your bar's in the seedier section of this place."
Carol’s preferred form of transportation was still flying for the most part, but she used the Waypoints enough to remain steady on her feet after they were flung out in front of the DOA. “The term you’re looking for is ‘up-and-coming’,” she retorted with a playful smile. “I’ve been working with a realtor. Trust me, I’d know.”
Nodding toward the front doors, she said, “Alright, before we get this far, I should let you know you don’t have to register. They don’t force it, but we usually consider it a good step up when you’re new. What do you say?”
"I'll trust you," Valkyrie answered, even though she didn't particularly like that term. It was hardly anything compared to being known as a title and a number for ages. And she found that she did trust Carol. Maybe that was spurred on by the knowledge that she had clearly done so before.
“I’ll never steer you wrong,” Carol promised with a small smile, tugging on their still-joined hands and stepping forward. “I promise.”