Rogue Reunion

This circus lady did indeed remind the precarious prankster of his two little sidekicks, his darling prank, and his boy Axel. Ah, yes, the childish escapades they went on we're legendary. Though, regrettably, his darling flame Zoey grew up. It was appalling, really. They were the most dynamic of duos! And yet... She threw in her towel! As if all those years of fun and crime just meant nothing! Needlessly to say, the current (or rather, what was current in his world) custody battle over Axel is a bloody one. The b!tch conned him good, that's for sure. So, the feelings over this lass were conflicting to be sure... Snart on the other hand... Following the Flash, and Piper, Snart was Jesse's best friend! Sure, the good old Captain was a bit cold and dry, and... Not really interested in the prankster... But, he was at the very least decent towards him... Which put the cold criminal miles above the dirtbag likes of Digger, Roscoe, and Evan. It, counted for something at the very least. There wasn't much too count anyway, truthfully. The respect James had for his leader, was nigh-infinite. Twas the case for all the rogues, in fact (we don't talk about the Top.... Nevermind him...), so when Captain Cold gave a command, you're damn sure that it would be followed. That in mind, James shrunk a little as Snart raised his voice. Quietly and awkwardly, the prankster lowered his head and looked to the floor. The childlike demeanor of James Jesse was something that was easily upset, often all it took was a commanding voice for the chatterbox cad to nervously pipe down. He was more a child then a man, more often then not. The effects of his illness. Sure, medication made him a tad more adult, but that was only if the deranged fellow took them. Which, as you can plainly tell, he rarely did. Quitly, and pitifully, he huddled into himself, with a simple and small "Sorry, boss..."

Captain Cold began his monologue, and the Trickster almost immediately regained enough confidence to interject and protest against Snart's words. In particular, the word clown wrought about a nasty ire. He wasn't a clown... He was an acrobat. A goofy, zany and wild acrobat, but an acrobat still. The Joker was a clown, and Jesse hated being compared to the Joker. The Joket was homicidal, the Joker was a sicko, and the Joker was a monster. Yet for some reason, always! Always! Always! Always! The comparison was made... And it pissed him off... "I'm an acrobat actually, not a clown! I take offense that, dude! What if I started calling your schtick "guy with a freeze ray" instead of "guy with a cold gun"!?" A comparison he knew for a fact Snart despised, but Jesse'd still claim innocence. The best part about him was that everyone underestimated his abilities. Everyone thought he was stupid, a dumb kid trapped in a grown man's body, but he was clever... Clever and cunning. Far more clever and cunning then anyone ever anticipates. Guess you could say that he tricks them? Tricks and cons everyone around him that he's stupid and daft. Either way, for a blonde he's smarter then he looks. Snart continued on with his monologue, interjected by Harley only once, and James simply brooded over the "clown" comment, finally piping up after Harley. "Different worlds... Hehhehhehheeeh! You don't look so different from my Lenny... Same cold shoulder, same dopey gimmick, same chubby wubby cheeks! Eeeeeyehahhahhaaaaaaah!" He gave a childish tone at an obvious point in his dickish commentary, reaching out and attempting to pinch Snart's cheeks like an old grandmother. This likely would not be very well received by the Rogue King, but the foolhardy fool joked and giggled anyway. "I've dealt with the sound girl, actually! Sweet, girl. Ended up pantsing her on live television. That was fun. Heh-heh-heeeeeeh!"

Snart's monologue had concluded, thus naturally, the question of what next? Was begged. By Harley, actually. Jesse didn't care too much about Snart's ambitions, though he agreed whole-heartedly with Harley's proposals, excitedly contributing with his own childish twist to her ideas "Ooo! Ooo! Can we take over the toy store, Lenny? Or better, yet the candy shoppe! No! No! Even better! Let's take over both!" Eh, they're bad guys. Bad guys gonna do, what bad guys gonna do. The Trickster's childishness and immature ideas were but an extension of this fact. "We could hit up the liquor store, I here Dan Ackroyd's got this Vodka stuff, and the glass is in the shape of a skull! Don't that sound awesome!? Hm, I wonder if I could make a vodka glass in the shape of vomit?" Musing over the idea gave a short pause to the Trickster's mindless babbling. At this point, it was likely something Leonard Snart had grown accustomed to. Depending on how long he's known his Trickster... Unless of coarse this fellow here is, in fact, his Trickster, in which, oh yes, he definitely was acquainted with this.

"Say, Clown Girl's got the right idea!" Following Harley's actions, James swindled a drink from one of the passing waiters. Though, unlike Harley, the precarious prince of pranks swiped not one, but four separate drinks. Struggling to hug tightly each cocktail, he slid them (quite smoothly honestly) across the table. He plopped an overtly bendy and curly straw to the most colorful of the drinks, some alcoholic smoothie cocktail which blended into shades of orange, green, and blue. He slurped it contentfully as he arose from his booth seat. One foot stepping to the table the group had been settled that, and the other slowly rising him up to meet the other (curtesy of his shows, of coarse). Stepping around the booth's table, he grinned down at his two comrades. Effortlessly, the master of mischievous mirth quite literally hopped on top of a single glass, one of the four cocktails he'd commandeered only moments before. He weightless balanced one foot to the clack tail, the other hovering freely in the air as the glass wobbled around. Normally, the glass would have shattered under the grown man's weight, but this was (yet again) courtesy of his shoes. He was just barely touching the cocktail, in fact, only just enough so as to give the illusion of standing atop it, wobbling the glass around with his toes. Arguably far more impressive, was the next acrobatic feat Jesse preformed. Weilding his free leg and foot, Jesse maneuvered around, picking the third glass up with only his toes and feet, and balancing it on his free foot. It was there, for only a brief moment. He kicked the drink to the air, alcohol splashed and splashed all around, and the glass landed comfortably on Jesse's mop of blonde. That'd be one drink balanced under his left foot, the second held in his left hand, and the third now nestled and balanced cozily on the Trickster's head. All because he can, the show-boating bastard that he was. Then there was the final, and fourth drink. Once more, James maneuvered his free leg around, and propped it upon his right foot's toes. That made one drink under his left foot, a second balanced on his right, a third held in his left hand, and the fourth and final drink balanced on his head. This was, of coarse, simply because James Jesse was an attention whore. For good measure, just to make sure the whole bar would be watching, all eyes loving and admiring him, he reached into his pockets with his right hand, the one unoccupied by his drink, and pulled out a trio of pellets. He lobbed them to the air. They sparkled and blew up in a flurry of little fireworks, BANG! BA-BANG! BANG! All in some childish quest to cause a scene. "A toast!" The childish cavalier jovially, and perhaps sincerely declared to the crowd "To my pal, Captain Cold! Hail to Leonard Snart! King of Thieves!! Hail to the Rajah of the Rogues! Doth decreed, his Royal Pain in the Ass, ME!! Hee-hee-hee-hee-heeeeeee!"

"This calls for a celebration, friendo!" With that declaration made, the precarious prankster began fiddling and rummaging through his knapsack of tricks and toys once more. Perilously balancing his drinks and self as sparkler yo-yos, springy slinkies, and exploding bubblegum (just a few of the random junk he jettisoned) were lobbed away in some deranged search. In particular, the exploding bubblegum sploshing all over the Rogue's table was likely particularly irksome to his compatriots. It was then, with a wicked and wild glee that James was able to find what he was looking for. "Let's end this shebang with a bang, shall we? Hehhehheeheeheeheeeeee!" A cupcake. Not just any cupcake, but a strawberry cupcake (Jesse's personal favorite). It's wrapper was an explosion of rainbows and colors, and the strawberry cream on top looked as though it were an artisans work. A Mona Lisa, as far as bland little chocolate-strawberry cupcakes went. With little rainbow sprinkles as the crémé de crémé on top!.... Actually... It was missing just one little detail, then it could be properly classified as perfect. The candle on top... And boy was there a candle... James planted the cupcake firmly to his nose, balancing it delicately as, following the cupcake, he pulled out quite the, sizeable, red candle... A thick and long red candle that was far larger the the cupcake itself. Jesse jammed the oversized red rod into the little pastry as it balanced over his face, cupcake frosting smearing all over the stick and deforming the once pristine little pastry's posture. The candle's wick hung over the sides, and looped around to the side. James gave one deranged and maniacal grin as he lit a match against his pants and sparked what was quite obviously a stick of dynamite's fuse alight. Grabbing it with his free hand and delightfully presenting the entire little bomb-cake to Captain Cold.