105/Foster Home

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Foster Home
Date of Scene: 21 April 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed.
Cast of Characters: 135, Lex Luthor




Lillian Foster (135) has posed:
    Late into the night, lights flash against the shoddy windows of Lillian's small motel room. At first blinding, the headlights dim to reveal the client herself stepping out of a cheap taxi cab. She hands a bit more money than might be considered reasonable to the driver, whom shortly vrooms away to leave her ostensibly alone in the dark. Fishing her key out from a pocket of her faded old jeans, she feeds the card into the reader and makes her way within. Distractedly, letting out a tired sigh, she flips the light switch. This, of course, exposes the interior in all its questionable glory.

    Cracks and dirt marks the peeling walls and ceiling. Ancient accidents petrify rough patches in the moldy carpet. The few lighting fixtures still functioning occasionally flicker at the end of their expiration dates. Cheap covers and blankets rest across a creaky bed, appearing clean only to the naked eye. A decrepit little desk faces a corner, partnered inexplicably with a plastic deck chair a squat or two away from collapsing. A strange smell permanently permeates from the equally deplorable bathroom, and a few bugs hop around their home. Among all this, she apparently fits right in, wearing an oversized gray pullover sweater stained and stinking of beer, and white gauze bandaging her right hand.

Lex Luthor has posed:
"I believe it was the Cheshire Cat who said..."

These words come from the man that peels himself out of the corner that he has been standing in for quite some time. Maybe it wasn't even that long. It's hard to really know or tell considering that he stands with a posture and a style that shows just how comfortable he is in a place like this. In fact, he seems to be even more comfortable now that the actual resident has made her appearance.

"... we're all mad here."

The dark suited individual walks around whatever passes for a 'table' in this place. His bald head and that confident voice may have already told 'Lillian' who he is. However, he takes the time to look up and grin mischievously at the person whose space he just invaded.

Lex Luthor Has Arrived.

"So. Tell me, Alice Rene Grey..." Lex grins. Almost to the point that if this were a television show the camera would be zooming in on his wry grin of superiority. "Are you mad?"

Lillian Foster (135) has posed:
    Lillian freezes like a deer in the headlights, legs stiffening and arms tensing as if ready to either attack or defend. Once her fight or flight response has run its course through her system, she turns to more fully face her intruder. Hazel eyes flash furiously to inspect the man, taking in his incredibly recognizable features and extravagantly expensive suit.

    Promptly, she glances around for accomplices or hidden traps, but finding nothing, she wills herself to better relax. After all, from all appearances, it's just the two of them.

    "How do you know I'm mad?" A brief pause, then a malevolent grin, only mostly forced, "you must be awfully full of yourself. The sane man would bring friends." She closes the door, locking it audibly, and steps further into the light. "You've dressed to meet me in such fancy clothes. I should be flattered."

Lex Luthor has posed:
"What can I say? I love casual Friday."

Lex Luthor doesn't seem to be worried about anything that may be coming out of Lillian's mouth. In fact, he seems to be more inclined to be leaning up against the table and getting himself comfortable. His arms come up and cross over his chest with a devious smirk on his lips.

"Juvenile threats aside, I'm actually here to get you out of this horrible, horrible living situation. Play your cards right and I might even throw in a couple other incentives." Lex grins as a pair of red dots show up on Lillian's chest. Lex smiles even more at that.

Lillian Foster (135) has posed:
    "Funny. I'm afraid to even ask how you dress for the weekends."

    Glaring at Lexcorp's CEO, Lillian states, "'horrible' is subjective. Better than sleeping on the sidewalk outside. Better than being locked in a cage and tortured for some megalomaniac's greed." Glancing down to see the nefarious red dots, she scowls and peers in the possible direction of those lasers.

    At last, she sighs, bringing back her attention upon the only trespasser she can see. "What do you want, Mister Luthor. I've lived in far worse places. There's a beautiful park a short walk away, and a little corner store where I can buy homemade cookies. Unless you plan to give all your wealth to me, I'm not interested in your false charity."