1132/Newspaper Interview OF WAR!

Newspaper Interview OF WAR!
Date of Scene:	25 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Ares, Lois Lane

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Ares has posed:
    The Veteran's Memorial Plaza in New York is just a stone's throw from the river. When the rain comes up and the waves lap at the boardwalk, it creates a hazy mist at times that touches the statues just enough to give a hint of tears to the way they stand there. Whether those tears come from them or from on high, it lends an element of solemnity to the already quiet introspective place.
    On that day some small time ago, there had been people there paying their respects. It's always a quiet place, the rare conversation there always muted, and the tone respectful. It was that way when she had been there. A handful of other people offering quiet thoughts to what had passed and why. But then the woman had descended from the heavens, angelic and landing light upon her feet.
    She was beautiful, as all of them who wear capes and masks always are. She had lowered her head even as others looked on and her own prayer was offered in turn. The people who had been there moved away, for despite what good had passed from those who would seek to save and to fight injustice, there's always that touch of fear... that hesitation to approach the beings who are of a soul of man and yet beyond it.
    But he didn't flee. That tall haggard man who had been seated in that memorial seemingly before all of the others had been there. He had waited for her to offer her prayers, to speak softly her thoughts and then they left to move away. Towards the haze of the river and the slow solemn chaos of the waves brushing at the boardwalk.
    They had shared words, and that was strange enough. What was more she seemed to listen to him. To nod. And then eventually she left again, flying straight up alighting back to the heavens and from view. Leaving no evidence to her passing save the sudden silent emptiness of that memorial and that tall grim looking man.

Lois Lane has posed:
Lois Lane, Ace Reporter for The Daily Planet, goes many places. Both within and outside of the United States.

Today, however, the black-haired reporter found herself in New York City versus Metropolis. Business - an interview, really, and a bit of research, as well. It's always good to kill two birds with one stone, after all.

Eventually that interview and even her research was completed and with nothing more to do, the reporter turned to other things. While many know Lois is a military 'brat', few realize just how she really feels about those who enter into a career with the military. Pride, thankfulness and also sadness. Pride and thankfulness for the people who step up to shoulder that burden and sadness for those that were lost.

As such, Lois will often visit the various military memorials that can be locally found. And today is no different. Well, it is slightly different. There were enough people around to light up social media with the mention of Superwoman at this particular memorial, and so, Lois made her way here. A little off schedule or perhaps a little ahead of schedule, but here nonetheless.

While she arrived too late to actually see Faora and Ares speak, Lois did arrive in time to see that familiar figure rising upward into the air. When nothing more can be seen, the reporter's gaze will drop back down to Earth and to the grim-looking man. She doesn't yet walk over to him, instead assessing when she can see of him.

Ares has posed:
    At a glance he is a haggard man, the years hang heavy on his frame and the severity of his features. He had the look of a traveler that didn't care to ever name a destination as if holding back that truth would somehow change the end that was destined for him. She'd seen taller men in her life, assuredly. But perhaps none who quite seemed so sure of his place in the world. When his gaze lifted upwards to follow the last Kryptonian Soldier's flight, there was no awe in those dark brown eyes. No fear. At the most there was something remorseful on some level, like a mirror held up in front of a half-blind man.
    But then he'd turned away, his footsteps even and calm. If someone looked on him with something other than a reporter's eye they probably wouldn't look twice. Tall, jeans, a brown jacket. The uniform of the Western man in the world these days. But she could gauge the way he moved, see the soldier in the stride with the understanding held from a military brat's childhood. Like sees like.
    He moves around the edge of the memorial, not wanting to transgress on the ghosts who had already been summoned to mind when he had first spent some few moments on introspection. It was just a path of footsteps led him towards her, and unhindered... past.

Lois Lane has posed:
Like sees like.

There's truth to those words. Lois has been around military all her life and coupled with her reporter's eye, she can definitely pick out some of what the haggard man is.

Just not in the correct context, perhaps.

While she feels the urge to ask questions of the man, she doesn't. No, instead Lois will continue to stand there for a quiet moment, watching as the man approaches and then steps past. That's not unexpected. Most people keep to themselves within memorials.

That, however, doesn't necessarily stop Lois Lane. Not as she pivots upon high heel and turns enough to follow the man's progress away from her. He'll get two steps, possibly three, away from Lois before her voice is finally heard. "Thank you." She'll call after the man, "For serving." And while others offer that in a perfunctory manner, Lois Lane's is more honest. She's not saying that just to 'say it'. She means it. And while her reporter instincts are kicking at her to ask more questions, she waits first, to see if the man responds.

If Perry were here he might accuse her of going soft, but even Lois Lane has her lines in the sands; and soldiers and the military are one of them. Even if her own relationship with her father isn't always the best.

Ares has posed:
    There's a turn and for a moment he's just a silhouette in the shadow of that tall skyscraper that serves to offer shade to the memorial. Just a faint outline limned by the hint of light from reflected sun. But she can see him as he turns his gaze on her, something about his regard seeming to be a weighted thing. His brow knits and he looks towards the memorial.
    On some level he should accept those words as the homogenized dissipation of guilt so embraced by people who know they owe... something to those people, but never will comprehend what. In some worlds, just a few steps away with the wing of the crow that's how this moment passes. A grunt from him. A bare acknowledgement and he's gone. But in this world here where one of the fates lie dead from an ages old wound, he has a freedom to him.
    "You don't owe me a thing, girl." His voice is rough, low, a deep baritone that makes his words sound almost like a growl and it's a harsh thing that often sends others away upon hearing. She can see the way his brow furrows, his eyes on her, and then they slip away back towards the memorial. "I owe them."
    But it's the why he denies her, for now at least. Something in his manner might make it seem that there's a seriousness to him, about this, about now.

Lois Lane has posed:
The Reporter will watch the man, so highlighted by the reflected rays of the sun.

Unlike some, she doesn't try to fill in the silence; she's learned how to be patient, how to wait, and it proves true now. Instead, as she waits Lois will consider the man before her. She takes stock of what she can see with her own two eyes, but also what her instincts say. And what both say allows her to continue to hold that silence, to wait for the man to say something.

Of course, when he does speak, his words bring about a vague eyebrow twitch from Lois. Or more specifically the 'girl' does. That's not necessarily something she likes to be called, but she doesn't say anything about that. Not yet, at least.

Nor does his tone send her away. If she let the emotions of others dictate whether she would stay or go, she'd never have found her way as one of the top reporters at The Daily Planet.

Still, the man stopped and that affords Lois Lane an opening and rarely has she ever let an opening slide past her. Though this particular opening is approached far more gently than how Lois Lane typically operates.

"We do - all of us here do." She says, as she moves to take a step closer to the grim man. A hand will be extended to him, even as she skirts around that unspoken 'why'. "Lois Lane." She says by the way of introduction, dropping reporter for The Daily Planet, as she once more waits to see what the man will do.

Ares has posed:
    That extended hand is eyed like some curious thing, some creature that reached right up and threatened a sting. But it spurs his eyes to find hers again, for him to give her a once over. She's lived in the world long enough, been gifted with a beauty that draws at times another look now and again. But the way he gauges her gives no hint to the way other men might look on her. It's as if her merit were encapsulated in that single glance and for some reason it gives him no small amount of consternation.
    But then he pushes past it, perhaps whatever reticence was aimed more at himself than her. For then he'll take her hand in his. It's a firm grip, not aggressive, but strong. Two pumps. Done. He tells her levelly, "John Aaron." And as he gives name to the man, to that facade that he wears, he summons it back to the fore.
    It's a subtle change, perhaps not easily discerned. But it's enough to remind himself that he is not Ares. No longer. A moment passes in silence, then he says to her, "You are a reporter."

Lois Lane has posed:
He's not the first person to look see her hand as something other than a greeting; nor will he likely be the last.

When his gaze returns to hers, he'll find a crooked smile tipping the reporter's mouth upward. A quick flash of amusement in this very somber place, during this very somber meeting.

Her handshake, while not quite as strong, is equally firm and similarly non-aggressive. She only plays those games when needed and something tells her she won't require them here.

While others might offer a 'nice to meet you', Lois doesn't, it wouldn't quite fit for this particular setting. So, instead she'll keep her attention focused upon the man and while that subtle shift isn't quite seen by Lois Lane, there's still something there that causes the woman's eyes to narrow slightly.

An instinct at play, though buried deep within her brain that it's not easily accessible, or understood. As such, the reporter will only offer that vague squinting of her eyes, before she's moving on to that last statement of his. A second half-tilt of her mouth can be seen, as she offers that twitch of a smile. "I am." For The Daily Planet, which is left unsaid, "I was headed out here to pay my respects when I heard Superwoman was likewise visiting. You spoke with her?" Lois states, because that question is anything but. There was enough information on social media to let her know who Superwoman spoke to while here.

And while most might be lulled into thinking she's forgotten about that unspoken 'why', she hasn't. It's now about playing the long game; as Lois tries to puzzle out the man.

Ares has posed:
    Those eyes lift and look towards where only moments ago the Kryptonian had taken to the sky. She'll see the furrow draw his brows together, and his attention return to her. There's no need for her to be an expert on micro-gestures and reading the language of the human form to tell that she steps upon dangerous ground.
    But then he gives a single nod, and a simple gruff, "Yes."
    That's the moment he turns and begins to walk away from the memorial, moving towards the street with his hands sliding into the pockets of his coat. The line of his shoulders would dissuade most from following him, and to some there'd be no hint of his expectations. But his stride is slower, perhaps to match her own.
    It's when he lifts his voice again, however, that she may realize he intends to walk with her and talk at the same time. "You are in touch with the world," He states, then he asks. "What is said of her? Her role now?"

Lois Lane has posed:
Did she push too far? That's always a gamble in her profession and even personal life, when she pushes for answers, or knowledge, or a reaction.

Those thoughts flits quietly through Lois' mind, as the man turns and begins to move away. The vaguest of frowns begins to twitch Lois' mouth downward now, as she considers the man's back.

It's only as she considers his slower pace and then his words, that Lois realizes she's not quite shut the door upon this interview - no, not quite an interview. It's nothing so impersonal.

There's the light clack of her heels upon pavement as the reporter quickly catches up to John Aaron. She'll fall into step at his side, as she gives him a bit of thoughtful side-eye. "I'd like to think I am." She says with some humor to her voice, even as she also offers a nod of agreement. She is in touch with the world, yes.

His question, however, causes the reporter to fall silent for several seconds. Her expression has turned to something akin to contemplation, as she now considers her answer.

"It depends who you ask - but I would say people see her in either a neutral light or a good one." Begins the Reporter, her eyes turning to Ares' again, "For myself, I believe she's hear to help in any way she can." Her head tilts slightly now, "I write of her in that way. Someone here to help, who can help and who wants to help."

More could be said by Lois on the topic of Faora, but she doesn't. Instead, the reporter will bounce that question back to John.

"Why? What do you see?"

Ares has posed:
    She asks him that and he continues that same steady stride, matching hers even though he stands a full foot taller than her. But when her words light upon his ears he draws the corner of his mouth in between his teeth. Perhaps on some level he is loath to speak of her, to give his insight to a reporter... no matter how well seeming they may well be. But he clearly has had these thoughts preying upon him.
    For what did he see when he looked on Faora? For him in some ways when he looked at her, when he spoke to her, it was the same conversation held as he has had countless times. The lost soldier, the forlorn, the misused. For what is War if not the devourer of youth and ideal?
    Instead his voice lifts and he tells her of something else entire. "When Alexander the great had reached the ends of the world he would know, he did weep." A glance is given to her, "That much is known." He pauses in his stride as they reach an alcove of an office building, just far enough off of the sidewalk as to not suffer wandering eyes and ears who seek a glance and slip of a word.
    "He saw what was to come if he set all the lands he had taken to rights. Saw what it would cost him, and what history would say of him." He seems uncomfortable in this role, that of a storyteller. The tendons in his jaw bunch as he looks to the side, but he continues. "The man who was free of fear felt its touch and he allowed himself to pass. He drank himself to death."
    Then he looks back to her, "But even in his death he took life. For those closest to him were struck with such... a lack of aim. That his was not the only death in camp that night. Yet if you were in such a place? If you had known the grace of a great man, and had him torn from you. Would you rather be the one to embrace death... or to be left in a world unknown to you struck with naught save... emptiness?"

Lois Lane has posed:
A story.

Lois Lane finds that slightly unexpected and that brief mote of surprise might be seen in her gaze, but soon that surprise fades away. Now it's replaced by curiosity, as she listens to the story John Aaron has to tell.

The clench of jaw is silently noted, and while others might interrupt the story-teller, Lois doesn't. Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing at all, and that's a lesson she's learned early on in her career.

So, she listens and she waits. She waits for the man next to her to finish what he says. When he pauses within the shelter of an office building, she will too, making certain to keep mostly out of his personal space, though she's still close enough that he neither has to shout or speak loudly.

When the story is finished, Lois will nod. While some might miss the context of his story, Lois Lane doesn't. She knows all of Faora's background, the good and the very bad, and the message beneath that story is quite clear to the reporter. Lois resorts to her own brand of silence now, as she wars with whatever internal thoughts are fighting for her attention. Finally, when she's settled upon something that will neither reveal too much, or break confidences, Lois will say, "That's a difficult question to answer. And I think many people struggle with that; heroes included." Superwoman included, is left unspoken there. "Trying to figure out what your purpose is, because what you thought it was, wasn't."

Ares has posed:
    The tall man lifts a hand slightly to the side, as if brushing away his words and her own. But such things are not banished so. Yet his brow remains furrowed as he stands there, and she can almost detect the moment his thoughts return to the here and now and are not wending their way off with Faora.
    Turning he meets her gaze and then says levelly in that steady baritone of his, "Now is your curiousity sated, Ms. Lane?" No 'girl' now, for whatever reason. "You most likely know more of her than I do." He takes a deep breath, holding it, channeling it perhaps.
    But then he seems to recall himself and slides the sleeve of his jacket up along his arm. There's no ink on his skin, though she can perhaps see subtle callouses on his hand as he checks his watch. His eyes return to hers and he tells her, "I must call my son." And as if that was it he turns away, beginning to set his foot to pavement and off.

Lois Lane has posed:
The reporter sees the moment that struck, allowing that story of his, fade and as such, Lois Lane doesn't find it surprising in the least when he asks that next question of his. Honestly, it's expected.

There have been many times where the reporter caught a moment of true honesty from a person, before the person then clammed up. Much like how John Aaron does now.

The question about her curiosity being sated is skipped over and the mention of knowing Faora better than most, and even him, that earns a singular nod from the black-haired woman.

She does; at least in the sense of Faora's past. Perhaps not the woman herself.

When he looks to his watch Lois will automatically drop her gaze to his wrist as well. The mention of a son earns another nod from the woman, even as she watches him turn to leave. That's not unexpected either. Still, that doesn't mean she's necessarily done with her questions. Before he can slip away, Lois will say, "I'd like to hear your story - perhaps one day when you have more time you could tell me it. Completely off the record." She'll offer, which is saying quite a bit, Lois rarely offers such things to people. "I get a sense you've got some stories to tell."

Ares has posed:
    "Everyone has a story, Ms. Lane." John starts to walk along that sidewalk, stepping off into the scant flow of people around them. There are those of New York striding about their business, moving with purpose and passing conversations aren't acknowledged beyond perhaps a slight smirk of a word or two caught. But eye contact is still evaded, and focus is rarely leveled steadily.
    He slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans and eyes her sidelong. And should she step into motion with him, he'll add a few more words offered to her, "And from what little I know of the press, I am not entirely sure that a concept as off the record is respected as some would have."

Lois Lane has posed:
Everyone has a story - that's enough to earn a crooked smirk from Lois Lane. It's true, yes, but in Lois' mind that was just pure deflection on John's part.

But, when he pauses again to allow her to walk with him, she'll accept that silent invitation. Falling into step beside him, Lois will nod at the rest of his words. "Perhaps with some." Begins the Reporter, a bit of heat in her tone, "But not me. My word is good. If I say off the record, it's off the record. Otherwise people would never trust reporters and without trust -" There's a light roll of her shoulders, as she shrugs, "- a reporter isn't worth her salt." Her eyes will turn to the man's profile now, "But I do understand there are many reporters out there who promise the same things and never uphold them. I get that that fear. It wouldn't offend me if you didn't want to tell your story to me."

Ares has posed:
    And, to be fair, it rather was a deflection. Perhaps given more as an indication of state of mind, than a pure conversational gambit. But the Olympian continues his stride past the humanity of New York, moving with her beyond a street vendor selling various touristy gewgaws. But then he is drawn up short at the crosswalk, leaning against the button for a moment then rounding on her.
    From afar one would consider the two of them such a mismatch, especially considering the differences in body language. His own stand-offish, his hands hidden away and his brow furrowed. Her with the air of inquisitiveness, intent and keen of eye.
    Shaking his head slightly, he looks back at her and murmurs in that deep rough voice, "As it stands currently, I have naught to gain by giving you what you wish." He looks her over again, but the consideration is a far from a positive one, "But you do not seem as entirely reprehensible as the others of your ilk I have known."
    With that great commendation the light turns and he starts to stride across the street. It's when they reach the other side that he steps to the side of the yellow street lamp and looks at her directly. "I will grant you this, Ms. Lane. If my story becomes of consequence, or timely, then I will grant you my tale before others in your profession."
    That having been said his gaze narrows slightly as he leans forwards, "Now is /that/ sufficient for you, Ms. Lane?"

Lois Lane has posed:
While Lois Lane keeps an eye upon pedestrian traffic and the going-ons around them the majority of her attention stays deftly upon John Aaron. She can see his body language screams closed, but that doesn't seem to deter her. If Clark were here he'd likely be trying to pull her away, or deftly try to soften his partner's infamous curiosity. As it is, he's not, and so, poor John gets the brunt of it.

Though Lois has a sense that his skin is thick enough to withstand much.

It's, however, what he has to say that has the woman's eyebrows pinching toward the midline of her face. "You have naught to gain? Isn't that an interesting turn of phrase." She mentions, even as that crooked smirk lifts a corner of her mouth upward again at the mention of not being 'as reprehensible'. Dryly, the reporter adds, "I suppose I'll have to take that as a compliment, thank you." When the light turns green, Lois will dutifully cross the street, even as she glances towards the stopped traffic. Again, always observant is this particular reporter. Once the duo are safely across the way, Lois' gaze returns to the man, as he speaks once more.

The lean towards her doesn't necessarily have her backing up a step, but there's a definite watchfulness about her now. Not necessarily a wariness, just a watchfulness. Just in case things turn sour. Which has happened before; though it seems unlikely for this particular meeting.

"That's all I can ask." Is what the reporter will finally say, at his offer, and that last question of his. "Thank you." She'll add, even as she dips a hand into the pocket of her suit jacket. From it she'll pull out a card that holds the various ways to contact her; e-mail, The Planet and cellphone.

Ares has posed:
    Those dark brown eyes remains on hers steadily and it's likely some of the people walking past them might imagine such a lovely interaction to be something akin to a recently divorced couple discussing who gets the dog. But as she offers the card to him at first his eyes will go to it, then back up to her gaze, then back to the card.
    He accepts it then, taking it between two fingers and then sliding it into his jacket pocket. There's a single nod given and then he straightens up, some measure of the tension between them slipping away. "Very well, Ms. Lane."
    Then he turns and begins walking down that sidewalk again, this time with not comfortable space at his side for her to occupy. "Til next time." And with that said he steps off into the crowd, eventually slipping from view.

Lois Lane has posed:
When he walks away Lois will watch his form until it disappears merging in with the crowd. Her expression is a cross between that same watchfulness from before, but also curious speculation now.

Something about the man has triggered Lois Lane's reporter instincts, and they're telling her there's more here. Whether from his words, or body language, or a combination of both.

There's something here. And Lois Lane will do her best to find out.