By Rook Or By Crook


brennan2_icon.gif edgar_icon.gif lynette2_icon.gif nora2_icon.gif

Scene Title By Rook Or By Crook
Synopsis Brennan is a man on a mission, but it doesn't go very well on this particular night.
Date August 20, 2011

The Rookery

The dark silhouette in this dark nook of the Rookery looks like any street rat common to the parts. Despite the fact that — even late at night — the temperature is still a balmy 80 degrees, the figure wears a dark hoodie, the title role of the garment pulled overhead, sleeves pulled down. One hand holds a can of spray paint and is currently making a mark on the architecture of this corner of Staten Island.

It's a common enough sight, and the neighborhood is so far gone that no one particularly cares. Especially given the fact the words are being painted in green on boards of plywood that's been nailed over a series of broken windows, rather than on the more permanent brick of the building.

What is strange is it's not a typical "tagging." There are no "Krew" names here, no words spelled cleverly or initials with flourishes that make them unique as fingerprints.

It's the lyrics to Nowhere Man — Only a discerning eye reading through the lyrics might notice the odd random capitalized letter here and there. Trying to make sense of it, most might give up after the first few capital letters put together don't seem to spell much: N-O-A-W …

Only someone paying attention might keep it up to have it spell out: Noawantstotalk

"You know, that sort of behavior gets young girls arrested around here." Lynette's comment it wry, and comes with a crooked smile that's just a little too mirthful. On account of having had a few drinks not long ago. Judging by the flush to her cheeks, not very long ago at all. "I love that song, by the way. Even though it does make me think of an ex-fiance. But in an amusing, semi-bitchy way, so it works." After a moment, it occurs to her to ask, "What are you doing?"

Carnival education leaves something to be desired but one thing Edgar did manage to retain is the ability to read. "Makin' all 'is nowhere plans for nobody~" He sings as he reads the lyrics painted on the boards, oblivious to the message that's coded for someone not him. His appearance was quite sudden and he stands behind the young girl now, slightly drunk (as he always is nowadays).

"This ain' the kinda place fer a young girl," for once he's not dressed in prettier clothing. Old courderoys with a few handstitched patches, a button up shirt that's quite possibly soaked up more alcohol than he has, and worn down steel toed boots compliment his physique today. In his right hand is a pool cue stolen from a local bar, they're probably just noticing that it's gone. In his left hand is a bottle of vodka, which he offers to both women.

Brennan isn't about to chime in about any place being the kind of place for young girls. Because it really isn't the place for young girls, nor likely for well educated and well groomed physicians. Not that he looks like one with the perpetual scruff on his face that he's kept since the dome days and the ten bucks worth of clothing from a thrift store that he picked up to attempt to fit in and not stick out like a sore thumb. Baseball cap pulled down low, negation on - His anger has frankly, been getting the best of him - Harve brennan watches from not far and when his gaze flicks to Edgar, stays there for a few moments, Edgars ability goes the way of the birds, with his hands sunk deep into his pockets, debating about approaching and inquiring. Trolling.

The tail of the 'y' on 'nobody' gets an extra blob of paint when Lynette makes Nora jump, and she turns around to roll her eyes at the woman. "Don't sneak up on people!" she nags, but then Edgar is … not quite sneaking up as arriving out of the blue. Or sooty black, to be more precise.

Nora's eyes dart to the pool cue in his hand, trying to decide if she needs to disarm him, but then alcohol is being offered. "Doing illegal things doesn't get anyone arrested here," she points out, waving a hand in the general direction of the south, to indicate where the worries lie. "Being myself might. But not a little bit of graffiti."

Reaching for the bottle, though the teen gives Edgar a wary glance in case it's a trick, Nora takes a swig, swallowing roughly, before tipping her head slightly one way and then the other, worry darkening her features. "Negation," she mouths to Lynette, her personal stereo suddenly radio silent in her head.

"Ah, touche," Lynette says, as far as the likelihood of getting arrested. "And I only 'sneak up' when the person isn't paying enough… attention." Edgar. She's slow on noticing his arrival, but when she does, it's not so much his arrival that surprises her, but just seeing him again at all. "Edgar. Darling," she says, taking a step back to look him over, "Been a long time. I thought you'd been tossed in a dark hole."

But dwelling on that will have to wait. When Nora alerts to the negation around, she puts an arm out to slide the girl behind her. "Just be ready to run," she says in a whisper to Nora, although not to Edgar because, well. She assumes he's always ready to run. She's not running yet, though she does look rather on guard.

"I was…" Edgar says slowly, eying Nora suspiciously as he takes the bottle back. For him, everything seems to be moving in too slow motion but no yellow gas means, to him, that it's a someone not a something. "Then I go' out… This ain' you doin' this.." he says to Lynette, "is i' 'er?"

The pool cue is hefted into a better position in his hand, a better grip to hit things with. After imbibing a few gulps from the bottle, he staggers backward, his head swiveling around to take in their surroundings. "I don' need teh tell you tha' I don' need the speed teh kill if I 'ave to." It's a threat as much as a warning.
[OOC] Edgar says, "i can't believe i made it through the whole movie"
Crouched, elbows on knee's palms together, Brennan sits somewhat, unimposing, but none the less, in sight and view, watching beneath the brim of a baseball cap before deciding that he's done enough dithering, time to ask questions, sniff around and the small group with it's pool cue and spray cans, are individuals primo, for such a task.

As evidence by his purposeful, hands not in any pockets and in plan sight, meander towards them. "Excuse me" Brennan calls out. "Can I ask you ladies and gent, a question or two?"

The teen's eyes narrow at the suspicion from the speedster and then the comment on killing.

"Funny, neither do I," she says in a low voice, threat and warning echoed in her tone.

Her eyes scan the shadows of the street and fall on Brennan even as he comes toward them. She keeps trying to reach out for the radiowaves, to catch a sound of anything but finding nothing but the ambient noise of bars and the fighting inside dilapidated buildings, the water nearby, a sea bird crying out somewhere in the distance.

Her Converse-clad feet back her up a few paces from Brennan, eyes taking in the possible exit routes. She doesn't comment on whether he can or can't ask her any questions — probably a pretty good indicator on any chance of answering any that follow that first initial query.

"It isn't her," Lynette offers to Edgar. She doesn't seem to have a doubt there. While she looks around, too, her gaze slides right past Brennan crouching there. It isn't until he's coming their way and speaking up that she looks his way. But his question makes her glance around them again. This isn't usually how the soldiers go about things, but she is just paranoid enough to give them credit for being creative.

"Well. That completely depends, doesn't it? On the question. And who you are."

When given the assurance that it's not the teen, Edgar lowers his pool cue by way of letting it slide through his grip until he's gotten a hold of the chalky tip. He's in the middle of another swig when the strange man skulks into view and the speedsters eyes narrow a little.

He steps in front of Lynette, as real gentlemen do when ladies are in distress but he lets her do the talking. He's never been much for words, more the following type than the leader. The wooden stick scrapes along the sidewalk by the butt end, drawing an imaginary line in the sand, so to speak.

"Harve" No offer of his hands up, just a glance to Edgar when he gets in front of Lynette and just like that, Edgar is negated and Lynette's back to same old same old. "I'm looking for someone, is all. Just wondering if either of you three had seen him. I have no interest in your…. art job" One hand lifts, forefinger pointed and waved about in gesture to the task that Nora was doing - Who's got full faculties again so to speak. "Just in someone who I was told might be in the area. If you don't want to answer, that's okay, but I can pay" For the answer that is.

With the sudden return of her ability, Nora blinks, eyes narrowing a moment to tune out of the signals. She herself stays quiet, dark eyes watchful, flickering between Brennan and Lynette. The teen doesn't nibble at the bait that Brennan offers, but isn't going to tell the others they cannot. Another step back is taken, and she tries to catch Lynette's eyes, to see if the other Ferrywoman wants to make her escape — but it's clear Nora's feet want to take her out of this alley.

Ah, chivalry. It still gets a smile from Lynette, especially in terribly uncertain situations like this one. But the mention of their art job has her glancing over her shoulder at the words looming back there. Right. But it lets her catch Nora's gaze and she gives her a nod. And okay to run. Lynette isn't posed so much to leave as she is to cover if Nora opts to take off.

"Lots of people in the area, hun. If the 'he' you're looking for's a questionable sort, he's bound to be around somewhere. But I try not to see anyone, unless they're holding the liquor." She delivers it with a smile, but it's clear enough she's not up for answering some stranger's question.

Maybe if she'd been a little drunker.

"Wha' she said," Edgar intones in a more unfriendly sort of voice. There's a raise of his chin as he sizes the other man up and the bottle's grip is adjusted ever so slightly. It's brought to his lips again and a bit more is drained before he offers it to Lynette again.

His eyes don't leave Brennan's form but he's more stuck between the man's shoulders and hips than his face. Stubble, too many people around these parts have it, including the carnie himself. "Tell me, cousin, is i' you tha's doin' this li'l trick then? 'Cause i' ain't neither o' these two."

Palms up, both of them. No harm, no foul, ready to turn, starting to turn and accept that he'll find no answers in this little corner of the Rookery. Nora's silence, Lynette's comment and then Edgars question. He looks to the carnie, a cant of his head and lift of his shoulders. "Who knows, plenty of tricks on this Island my man. See you around" He may have to head back mainland in an hour, but he'll be back. And with that, he's heading off, back towards the rookery proper and everyone is back to their normal evolved self.

Dark eyes follow Brennan's retreat before the turn back to Lynette with a cock of Nora's head. She glances at her lyrics on the wall with a frown and a shake of her head — not knowing the hidden request in the lyrics is meant for the very same man for which the negator seeks.

She quietly returns to Lynette's side. "More cobra shots?" she asks, eyes sparkling.

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