Another joke from Earth-That-Was, yeah. [ Or is it Earth-Prime now? The Justice League has caused so many global catastrophes that Slade's stopped counting which reality they've entered. His job is the same in all of them.
It's not often that he meets people that can challenge his height, though it's been more of a common occurrence since arriving here. He hasn't decided on how he feels about it. Back home, Slade was the one taller than Batman of all people, but even that point of reference falls flat here. Unlike Eridanus, Slade is able to mention the shortcomings of life back home and have it resonate with the general population. Slade, for one, still isn't sure what separates an elf from a gremlin in Eridanus' world.
The odd look and the even odder compliment he gets from his new companion isn't enough to scare him away. A juxtaposition between his words and his expressionm it only makes Slade raise an eyebrow before he offers his name: ] Slade Wilson. Colonel if you're feeling fancy.
Before either of us forget. [ If this guy wants to brawl, he's going to have to wait until after Slade tucks two fingers into his breast pocket and produces a small, neatly folded piece of paper. He sets the sheet down against the bar and slides it over to Eridanus as if it's some elicit, high-end set of instructions on murder instead of a humble recipe for stew jotted in Handsome Jack's tight, surprisingly natural scrawl. ] From my guy. Can't say I've tried the recipe out myself. I'm not that type.
[ When he waves the bartender over, he orders himself a White Russian and frowns at the bartender's confusion. Still too new, apparently, despite being a cocktail seven decades old. Changing that order to a whiskey sour seems to do the trick. ]
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It's not often that he meets people that can challenge his height, though it's been more of a common occurrence since arriving here. He hasn't decided on how he feels about it. Back home, Slade was the one taller than Batman of all people, but even that point of reference falls flat here. Unlike Eridanus, Slade is able to mention the shortcomings of life back home and have it resonate with the general population. Slade, for one, still isn't sure what separates an elf from a gremlin in Eridanus' world.
The odd look and the even odder compliment he gets from his new companion isn't enough to scare him away. A juxtaposition between his words and his expressionm it only makes Slade raise an eyebrow before he offers his name: ] Slade Wilson. Colonel if you're feeling fancy.
Before either of us forget. [ If this guy wants to brawl, he's going to have to wait until after Slade tucks two fingers into his breast pocket and produces a small, neatly folded piece of paper. He sets the sheet down against the bar and slides it over to Eridanus as if it's some elicit, high-end set of instructions on murder instead of a humble recipe for stew jotted in Handsome Jack's tight, surprisingly natural scrawl. ] From my guy. Can't say I've tried the recipe out myself. I'm not that type.
[ When he waves the bartender over, he orders himself a White Russian and frowns at the bartender's confusion. Still too new, apparently, despite being a cocktail seven decades old. Changing that order to a whiskey sour seems to do the trick. ]