Beak of Steel

Gladstone shrugs a casual shoulder, diving into the bowl of pretzels pushed in front of them. He scoffs and quirks a brow at the rooster.

“Yeaaaaah, I’ve been kidnapped more times than I care to count, but I’m fully protected by Lady Luck for life. So even when I’m down and out, I’m covered. Same goes for death defying occurrences. I’m fiiiiiiiine. Also? I just don’t care.”

Not true. If the attacker is supernatural, he’s terrified. But his face is pleasant as always, and doesn’t reflect that little tidbit of valuable intel. Even when Gladstone knows he’s in a losing situation, he can play it cool until the end, relying on savvy and using other people’s skills to get him out of the situation. Is he scared? Varies on the immediate situation. Is he ever truly worried he won’t be saved? Naaaaah. Toad was a living nightmare. The Blot was just a dick with a glove.

Steelbeak’s question gets a slight ruffle out of the egotistical gander.

“I have TONS of friends, everywhere. LOTS of places. And how my fam regards ‘successful lay-abouts’ like moi? That isn’t exactly hush-hush.” He takes a generous sip from his new drink. “Besides, they always come around. Because we’re blood, and you know…families are just c o m p l i c a t e d.” 

Especially his.

“Hey! But who cares about that? McDuck family drama is borrrrrring.” He takes another swig if his cocktail. “Not that it’s any of MY business, but what are YOU doing out here untethered? Lemme guess–A bunch of those yellow suited egg-nerds are hiding under the booths and in the filthy bathrooms?”

On his own most of the time, yet brags about friends in tons of places? Gladstone’s contradictions about his social circle doesn’t go unnoticed, and to Steelbeak they’re large tells of what lies underneath that cocky mask. For a moment the rooster ponders the idea that both he and his company are similar in a couple disconcerting ways. Best not bring light to that when it’ll just stir up something unnecessary. 

Steelbeak continues riding shotgun in the conversation, chuckling at the bit about the Eggheads hiding about like ugly house bugs. 

“Well, I appreciate the hats pal. Thanks.”

"Ba-da, daaya, ba-da, daaya do-wa do, Doo doo-doo doo, doo-doo, baaya!

[Excessive Cursing]

@big-chicken-man​ TRANSMISSION RECEIVED !      ↳  “I won’t have to defend my sandwich from you, will I?” * unprompted / / ALWAYS ACCEPTING !

☆ — ❛      Of     course     not     ! …      as     long     as     y’     share     it     with     me.     ❜

This was why Steelbeak sometimes wondered if befriending a hero was worth it. Either he paid this unwritten tariff, tried stuffing all of the sandwich into his mouth, or attempted to play defender and end up without anything to eat. With a disgruntled sigh he tore his sub into perfect halves and forfeited his due.

José had been gone for some time, he couldn't even remember the last time he was in Duckburg. Much less when he last saw the rooster before him.

"Then I'll be sure to try next time, but I had matters at home which required my attention. That's done now, but hey! Next time, why don't you join me in Brasil? Then you won't miss me as much, eh?"

Steelbeak’s eyes widened to saucers. Now his ears had to have been playing tricks on him. Doing a little double-blink, he recomposed himself with a shake of his head. He’d never been invited anywhere before, at least, not counting orders for past missions.

Gladstone gives a casual shrug, sipping his drink with a little smirk. But he frowns at the name drop. He hates that guy. Pretending he doesn’t care, he shifts to more interesting points–

“Oh really? What’s going price on my head, now? I gotta call my bookie if it’s gone up 20% or more.” He’s practically bragging about this. But hey! It does fascinate him that he’s ransom priority #1 with so many big-wig monsters out there, but he has nothing of worth to his name at the same time…

Oh, right. He’s part of the McDuck clan…technically. You’d never know how estranged they get from time to time. But….Scrooge IS very observant on his life choices and mishaps, disapproving of most of it, all the way. Something the gander’s gotten used to over the years.

“Bygones. I’m in one piece, aren’t I? Frankly, I don’t know you, and you didn’t really do anything specifically to me or Fethry, so no grudge. I’m not Don and Della, I’m certainly not my Uncle…or their…staff. I save my grudges for more intimate attackers.

Other than that…yeaaaaah I’m kinda on my own most of the time. My Luck pays all my bills and puts a roof over my head, and that kinda cosmic help hocks most of the fam off. You know. The whole ‘earn your way square–or–drop everything comfy and luxe for a smelly adventure’ schtick.” He flicks through the menu, and shrugs at the rooster again. “I’m in with them…but I’m also out. It’s a crazy world, Beartrap.” Maybe that’s a TAD too much vital info to give a possible hostage situation, but Glad never worries. Of course.

Steelbeak brushes off the nickname. He doesn’t show his surprise when Gladstone spills even more details like a busted fire hydrant. Alone; In, but out, close to Fethry who shared the same fate, more selfish, clutched the lucky luxe life with an iron grip. Just, how well did he fare when Phantom snatched away his blessing? Not very, Steelbeak would wager, but he won’t judge the man giving him a chance.

A chunk of weight on his shoulders evaporates. Maybe he can open up a little. He closes his menu when he finds something he wants.

“You got a lot of confidence and trust in a guy that knows how to cash in on the bounties and get away scot free,” he says with an eerie tone, the same one he uses when targets have two seconds to make a head start. Though Steelbeak breaks this tension as quickly as he creates it, turning to Gladstone with a hearty grin. 

“Hnnnnnnnnnn.”

Eyes narrow, and she’s not dropping the blade, despite his defense. But she’s not attacking either. Lashes blink quickly.

“I seem to recall that accident prone pilot and a short man in purple with his robot friend deterring our demise.” It’s all she could see from her unit, anyway. His accusation gets an eyebrow raise. “Timing is everything. If my neck is on the line and my partners are betraying me, yes. If I drew a contract and we are succeeding with no issue, I would not.” 

Sound logic. It made Steelbeak respond with a cocked brow of his own. Though he relaxed against the wall with relaxed shoulders. He sized up the threat in front of him with small glances.  

“I’m startin’ to understand FOWL went after ya. You and your posse ain’t tight with the McDucks, but it isn’t hard to imagine you run a clinic in the mercenary market.” Despite his acute hearing and observant eyes, not detecting her, he was calm. This woman’s superb stealth and speed would’ve been perfect for FOWL. Heron’s own strengths overlapped, but she was campier and louder than Drakespeare’s characters. He crossed his arms, smile stagnant.