ArchivedLogs:Digging

Digging
Dramatis Personae Anette, Dusk, Selene, Casper	2013-12-30 '
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. It's colder today than it's been recently, and with the sun long past set the night is only growing brisker. It's not /dark/, not really ever /dark/ in the populous centers of the city; the park is full of the yellow glow of streetlamps and at one end of it a few desultory lights from the pair of newsvans hopefully lingering outside the Lofts. Most of the media swarm has gone home; with Holland in jail there's not a lot to /gawk/ at. In the park, though, one pair of people passing through is gawking. Dusk isn't doing anything particularly /interesting/, sitting on the back of a park bench, his feet (clad in worn old Vans sneakers) resting on the seat, his attire otherwise bland in jeans, black denim jacket kind of bulkily worn over several layers. The gawking of the passersby is no doubt reserved for the truly enormous wings that sprout from the young man's back, huge and dark and with their thin skin and long flexible bones and sharp claws, decidedly more kin to /bat/ than bird. The odd shine to his large dark eyes at times when they catch the light is reminiscent of this, too. At the moment, though, he's not doing anything particularly bat-/like/. Sitting on the bench, staring down at his cellphone. Dressed for the weather, clad in her black peacoat, matching trousers, and furry boots, Selene's walking through the park, brain scanning various people, smiling whenever she picks up something that amuses her. Sitting at a bench not far from Dusk's is a man in gray trenchcoat, hat covering most of his face, long thick pants, brown boots, holding a newspaper. If you were to look towards his pants, you may see a bulge, but you'd assume it's because of the thickness. Mind locking on Dusk, Selene traces his thoughts, before approaching, waving her hand at the bench, her accent a mixture of Italian and French. "Do you mind if I sit?" Anette is sitting at a bench, casually leaning back with her legs crossed and arms draped across the bench. She blends in fairly well, her leather jacket, grey jeans, and boots matching the dusk atmosphere. She seems to be staring in the direction of the apartment buildings, focused deeply, as if she can see it, despite the distance, darkness, and trees in the way. If anyone were to enter her mind right now, they're probably not going to get any personal information right away. Instead, she seems to be processing and mulling over conversations happening in front of the apartment complex right now, especially those related to the Jackson fiasco. There's not a lot to see on the surface of Dusk's mind, layered over with the dull droning thought of work -- in his case a ceaseless repetitive scrolling of lines of computer code at the forefront of his thoughts. Beneath that, somewhere, a sharp blood-red /hunger/ takes prominence. He glances up briefly from the screen of his phone -- reddit, one of many threads speculating on the likelihood of Jackson-as-mass-murdering-terrorist. The hungry red cast of Dusk's thoughts only takes on a bloodier fiercer anger at what he reads. In his expression, though, neither hunger nor anger, only a faint wide-eyed startlement at being addressed -- the sharp-clawed wings tend to keep most casual strangers at bay. He scans the park, other benches both free and occupied, warily. His eyes linger on Anette, tracing the path of her gaze back towards the apartments before he looks back to Selene. "Uh, /here/?" This sounds surprised. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind, bench is plenty big enough. What's -- up." Dusk's tone makes Selene curious, so she glances his thoughts over to try and figure out what he was reading. Once she has it locked, her curiosity intensifies, and she's digging deeper and deeper. Sadly, this prevents her from really scanning the other girl, so she sends a brief mental message to the man on the other bench, in French. << Casper. Talk her up. Ask her about the incident. >>. A brief nod from his direction, and Casper, the man, is approaching Anette's direction, as Selene continues to pry. Feeling the hunger and the anger, she scoots back, clutching her head, before quickly letting it go, forming her face into a smile and nodding. "Just a lovely night. Shame about that Mr. Holland. I wonder if he actually did it?". Casper makes his way to Anette, pointing his hand to the bench, his accent pure French. He's in his late 30s at the most, facial hair, dark brown hair, gruff exterior. The type of person who was in the military. "May I join you?" Now that more people have arrived at the park, picking up conversation at the complex has become too difficult so Anette just shakes her head clear, giving up with a sigh. She looks over to the two on the bench, frowning slightly in annoyance as if they're trespassing on her own private park. This look REALLY doesn't go away when the man approaches her. "Sure...public space, isn't?" she says, her voice a tad sharp. She's really not much of a people person. "I'd be surprised if he did it. Pleasantly surprised. Didn't seem like the type of person when I knew him. Not that we ever talked much. If he really did it, I might have to get back in touch." Dusk's reading this evening has largely just been concerned with recent events; the current thread is speculating on what Jax plans to do with regards to murdering all of humanity with a deadly virus. Dusk's wings shift uncomfortably at his back, eyes darting over to Anette as Casper moves towards her. He looks back down at his phone after this, fingers tightening against it. His face is pale enough to /be/ one of the living corpses that recently plagued the city, though his ability to carry on a conversation puts him firmly in NotZombie territory; a slight flush lends it the faintest touch of colour at the mention of Jax. That anger spikes sharper. "He didn't do it." He sounds firm on this, thoughts skating to the colourful artist. To warm hugs and warm cupcakes fresh out of the oven. To a freckle-faced eight-year-old playing with K'nex on an apartment floor. To bright-inked tattoos and bright smiles. "It's fucking bullshit, anyone who's ever met the guy'd know he didn't fucking do it, he's -- he was goddamn /in church/ when that asshole bit it." His eyes lift, skating back to Anette with curiosity. "You know him?" Noticing Anette's annoyance, Casper chooses to avoid it, sitting down next to her. He's the charming sort, though it's mostly trained, not natural, as he smiles, looking over towards the Lofts. "So, what's your opinion on this? You think he did it? I don't know myself, never met the man personally.". Unlike Selene, Casper /does not/ have the talents of mind-reading on his side, forcing him to wing it as he speaks to her. "But, he did have an alibi, so..maybe he didn't.". Back at the bench with Dusk and Selene, Selene is still in Dusk's head, grinning as she pokes about. "Of course he didn't. His alibi's rockhard, and he doesn't seem the sort. I wonder who did?". Casper used Charm! It's not very effective. She glances back over in the direction of the apartment and shakes her head. "No idea. Like I said...he was more the pretty boy starving artist type when I knew him. I'd like to believe he did it. He'd be my hero. But I don't think he did and neither do most of his neighbors. She looks up to Dusk, smiling slightly for the first time when she notices his wings, though it quickly dissapears. "Yeah...I might have had him in a class or two. I don't think we ever talked but we passed in the hallways a couple times. What makes you so sure he didn't do it? Maybe he's faking the alibi. Maybe he's got a shape-shifter friend." "Class. High school or college?" Dusk asks with a sudden sharper interest. He edges away from Selene's /grinning/, eyes narrowing on her in abrupt wariness. "Fucking zombies did for him. Don't you read the goddamn news, there were a million witnesses saying the same thing." He hops down off the bench, wings stretching briefly and pulling in again at his back; he shoves his phone into his pocket with sudden restless-uncomfortable thoughts of getting /home/, checking on the kids, seeing what /new/ horrors this fiasco has wrought. "I'm sure he didn't do it because I /know/ him. I'd fucking die for the man. He's /personally/ risked his life so many goddamn times -- saved more of us from people like Malthus than --" His jaw clenches. "Malthus Rogers wanted him destroyed. That alone should tell you enough about who he is. And when he gets out of jail he'll probably drink a goddamn /toast/ to the bastard's death with me but he definitely didn't pull the damn trigger. And he /definitely/ wasn't cooking up any /insane/ plot to kill all humanity that's just fucking dumb." Anette watches Dusk approach her, not willing to be intimidated by the human bat, she stands up also as he get close. "I knew him at Xavier's. And it's always the people you least expect, isn't it?" She raises a brow, angling her head slightly. "Well...I don't know about you but I for sure would want to take out someone who wanted me dead. Hell, I'd make it top priority." She shrugs, pulling her leather jacket tighter about her. "Maybe he did it, maybe he didn't. I don't know, I clearly don't know him as well as you did. I'd like to buy a drink for whoever killed Rogers though." Noticing everything going bad, Selene flicks her fingers towards Casper, ending her prying with Dusk. Atleast she knows he lives in the loft, has approximate name and occupation most likely, and his speaking alone has helped her a lot. Casper stops talking to Anette, standing up and going to sit next to Selene, them not looking at each other, mentally conversing. Selene does say one thing to the others, though. "No, I don't think he did it. He's too much the obvious choice. The obvious choice would never do it, would they?" "Huh." For a moment at the confirmation of Anette's school, Dusk's teeth flash in a smile -- warm, if very /sharp/, his long fangs prominent when he smiles. "Yeah, no kidding, right? I'd buy them as much as they fucking wanted, that man was evil." His eyes slide to Selene, wings shifting at his back again; one of them lifts in a shrug. "Be fucking convenient for them if he'd done it. Freaks don't /have/ many heroes, and Rogers wanted to take down one of the only ones we do. S'not going to work though. S'a whole fucking lot of us who --" There's a moment when his mind is mostly only filled with shadows and gunfire. Malthus with Nox's shadowpowers in the basement of Prometheus. Breaking Vector from his cell. Jax's face half-missing, just a mangled mass of blood and bone. He shakes his head abruptly. Whatever he was going to finish this sentence with, he doesn't, instead just looking to Anette. "Does pretty much seem like time to throw a fucking party." Anette listens to Dusk as he talks, grinning as he finishes. "I'd love a party. Though it'd be easier to host one if we knew who the guest of honor actually was...assuming it really isn't Jackson." She watches Casper head over to Selene and watches them "talk" and suddenly loses her interest in celebrations. "So what is he? Your little boy-toy of a spy? Who the hell are you?" She loosens her jacket over her shoulders, ready to remove it if necessary. They're not visible but the wings she's currently hiding are very much on her mind right now. Apparently, trust isn't something that comes easily to her. Selene just grins. Presumably, she was hoping this would happen. "I'm just an interested party in all of this. I can't talk to everyone at once, now can I? That's what bodyguards are for.". Casper is about to stand back up and approach them, but a simple glare from Selene has him sitting again. "Me? Selene Gallio, charmed. This is Casper Laurent. Chauffeur. Protection. Eyes and ears. We're just really curious in who killed that man, as are you. But I still don't believe it was Mr. Holland, nor do I truly have a personal stake in this. It's just all..important, you know?". Selene's begun digging into Anette as deep as possible, much farther than surface thoughts, just at the mention of 'spy'. "Is that a problem?" Dusk's wings flex again. "It wasn't even a murder. There /is/ no guest of honour, just a bunch of zombies and some panic and then his crazy-ass paranoid video that would have said the /same/ fucking bullshit even if he died of goddamn cancer. Happy fucking accident but I'll still drink to it." His head shakes, and he shoves his hands ito his pockets, eyes darting between the other two for a moment. "Fff. I gotta --" His eyes drift back towards the Lofts. "Get home. Nice talking to you." A faint shiver ripples through him, his large wings curling around himself like a cloak as he starts back towards the apartment building. Anette smirks, glancing to Dusk as he denies the murder. "The best kind of murder...the one nobody believes." However, as Selene grows interested in her, she immediately pulls up a mental barrier. Not exactly a skill she excelled at and one that could easily be knocked down in an invasion, but it's something. However, there's nothing particularly incriminating. At least, not yet. She's got the making and mind-set for future trouble though. "Some of us like being left alone. Can't mind your own damned business, can you?" Not as if she was just spying on others earlier. "Or if you have something to say, you can do better than send your little puppet." She glances sideways to Dusk. "Pleasure meeting you..." she says, perhaps a bit terse.