In the middle of an extended diatribe against artificial turf, Xan opens the door to Schuester Hall, which is... not the door to Schuester Hall.
Xan peers at it. "Are we being pranked or something? Has someone not been informed that I piss napalm?"
"You bleed napalm," notes Leo. "If you were pissing it we'd have a medical issue on our hands. Somebody could've thrown up an illusion, but I don't really see the point of replacing Schuester with... a bar? With some chick inside? Like, what, we're going to whip out our fake IDs and get in trouble? But Mom always says that if you can't see the point of a trap then whoever set it is smarter than you are. Let's go down the hall and take the south door."
"Jesus Christ," Xan mutters, hauling Leo in by the arm. "Let's avoid the cool-as-shit magic bar, he says. You're such a fucking girl."
Leo makes a noise of protest. "I'm working on that! And I object to your manhandling!"
They behold the bar. It's a very nice bar. It has a window to some exploding stars. "Huh. I'm... pretty sure that's magic of some kind," notes Leo.
"So am I, dipshit, we're both wizards."
"Just making conversation."
She puts her hand against the wine glass and takes a deep breath. The ticking that refuses to leave her head suddenly speeds up, sounding more like a motor then a grandfather clock. Her eyes glow, the wine inside her glass churns about. After 100 seconds she takes her hands off the glass. A single sip confirms it, after 100 years of aging this wine still tastes like shit. Typical topshelf swill.
She puts it down and takes out something to smoke instead. She isn't sure exactly what it is this strange magic bar gave her but it makes her high and doesn't smell as strong as her usual stuff. It will do. She hears one of the doors open, two new patrons of moderate prettiness entered. Damara is both high and bored after hiding out here for so long, she decides these two would be her source of entertainment for tonight. "Hello boys," she says, exaggerating her accent. "There lonely pretty girl here, that get me free drinks?"
Xan raises an eyebrow. "Well, I would, but Leo gets so irritable when I seduce strange women right in front of him. You're quite pretty, though. By baseline standards. There some reason you're drinking vinegar out of a wineglass?"
"Damn right I get irritable," Leo mutters. "Find your own pretty man."
Damara picks up the vinegar and holds it out to the prettier one, the fact that ageing the wine did that is unexpected but Damara is used to taking everything in stride. "Well I am not drinking it now pretty man, you want? Or maybe you want it instead, you look like your boyfriend make you want to drink a lot."
"I like this one. You still can't have her, but I like this one."
"Aw, Mikey likes it. I don't want any vinegar, but if he likes you I may be allowed to get you some good wine. Instead of the garbage in that bottle, which you seem to have murdered. Possibly in protest, which I can understand. What's your power, anyway? I assume it's not limited to turning shit tier wine into the vinegar it always dreamed of being."
"[I make it so that men cannot fail to satisfy my by cumming too early]" Damara replies in Japanese, taking a puff off of her blunt. She has never actually tested if her innate abilities with time magic allow that. "What about you?" If the two pretty men don't understand Japanese that is not her problem.
Xan applauds politely. "So, aging wine and slowing down men... an external temporal warper? That's some serious shit, kudos. I'm a Wiz-2 Man-2, I manifest copious amounts of human blood. Then I generally turn it into Bloodfire with a quick incantation, leaving me a neat little packet of napalm that I then lob at my foes. Oh, and I'm an EX-3. In case you couldn't tell." He smirks winningly.
"And I'm an EX-2 Wiz-1. Erebeal, it's this creepy shadowmagic shit, makes you feel like icy needles are pricking your flesh or something. Very versatile, though. For those who can actually use it. Give me half an hour's prep time and I'm a force to be reckoned with, I'm sure."
"Oh, you sell yourself short. Fifteen minutes, tops. Maybe twenty. Maybe an hour and a half."
"Okay so I know your rpg stats. [You did neglect to tell me your dick size which is the important one but oh well.]" She leans back in her seat. "I Damara, sit with me if you wish. Just no blood magic shit, this bar get angry about violence because it big spoil sport. Don't worry, I not going to turn you old." She raises a hand to signal the bar for more drinks and to apearify her prefered snacks, pastries with dangerous amounts of sugar and chocolate, onto the table.
"Those RPG stats are kind of significant to our lives. And, uh, yours, given you're a mutant as well. Also, you neglected to mention your pastry creation powers."
"That the bar, not me," Damara says with some resentment. She regrets nothing her powers have let her accomplish but she would honestly consider having pastry powers a fair trade. She makes a point to look at the two men's crotches as opposed to their face while talking to them. "Where I am from no one tell me my stats, they just try to get rid of my sexy head. That blood not going to explode is it? I be very made if you ruin so much good fudge." She grabs one of the pieces and ignores the utensils the bar kindly offered her in favor of just eating it in one bite.
"Jeez, they tried to cut your freaking head off when you manifested? I thought Japan was better about the mutophobic shit. Un...less you're not from Japan, and I'm just- going to stop talking."
"Yeah, shit, rough deal there. I mean, some people tried to hurt me when I came into my own too, but..." He grins. "Didn't last too long."
Damara tries to blow out a smoke ring only to find that the bar's provided blunts make that very difficult. "Okay this shit tastes nice but I want my own blunt back," she complains. "I'd go get it but if I show my face in my world then weird knight man comes and try to cut me." She puts the blunt she actually has out against her thumb. "I tell him I no kill anyone else but he no listen. Oh well, fuck that guy. He not pretty anyway."
"Ech. We could come with you and help murder him, or something? I'm always game for some legally sanctioned murder."
"Or we could offer you asylum at Whateley, because this guy is clearly a big-league super if he's threatening a fucking temporal warper and expects to get away with it. Just a thought? It's a nice place, they teach you how to use your powers to their fullest potential and all that jazz. And you can't smoke or drink in public, but we'll show you the good spots and we can share our weed."
"Correction: I will share my weed, because Xan is a fucking hoarder. But seriously, it's a nice place and nobody'll murder you there."
"Not being dead is nice," Damara says, somewhat suspicious. Recent experiences have made her doubt anything that sounds a little too good to be true but she really wants to no longer be stuck in this bar. "Why those rules though, the fuck are you people from? It sound like boarding school."
"It is, in fact, a boarding school. For mutants. It's cool! Everybody's really hot and we have superpowers. It's a sweet gig."
Damara is quiet for a bit, she has lots of reservations about schools. Then again if this school is the sort of environment where someone who controls blood isn't out of place, there is very little chance she would have to deal with the same types pf bullies she did in high school. Plus she had learned the appropriate solution for making bullies stop, be a bigger bitch then them and stab them if they did not learn their lesson. She knows she is powerful, the same probably applies even in a super powered school. "Hot people and superpowers? I guess I can try it if there are sweets."
"There are definitely sweets. Some sweeter than others."