2690/Penny for Your Thoughts

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Penny for Your Thoughts
Date of Scene: 04 October 2017
Location: New York City
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Foggy Nelson, Quake




Foggy Nelson has posed:
It was late, late enough that Foggy Nelson's partner was probably up to no good, or was vigilante justice good, who can tell anymore, but it was late. The park was empty. Though the fountain was illuminated, and Foggy Nelson, that stocky, little lawyer from Nelson and Murdock of Hell's Kitchen, sat on a bench. His front was well lit by the lights. He was sitting where he had been told to sit. He wore his suit, nothing too elaborate, just a navy blue suit, baby blue shirt, with a silver and navy tie, full length, rather than a bowtie today.

He had a briefcase, which he had over his knees, and he was sort of, well, he was slumped over the case, almost as if he were about to take a nap, or he had fallen asleep while waiting for his contact to appear. Suddenly, he rose up in his seat, seemingly alert, and gave a yawn. He wasn't used to keeping these late hours. And he felt so nervous about doing this. One of his clients had contacted someone on his behalf, and it was all so sketchy. It made his stomach turn. In fact, he made a bit of a noise as it grumbled. Then, he opened his briefcase, and low and behold, he pulled out a maple dip doughnut. Yeah, this was a man very much out of his depth.


Quake has posed:
Skye was already there - well, not at that bench. A bench close enough nearby that she can see just who it is who was asking for her. Darkskye didn't get out much anymore these days. And Skye herself had obligations. Obligations that said if she trod too far off the straight and narrow she'd get her wrists slapped.

But this one had come through channels she trusted. Why it was important enough to actually reach her, the woman wasn't sure yet. And looking at the man on the bench, she really wasn't sure what it could be he'd want of her.

For the longest while, all she did was watch. And wait. Making like a late night denizen of the park.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
Foggy ate his doughnut in peace, getting crumbs on his briefcase. Of course, it doesn't last very long. Maybe he was in a hurry, not wanting whoever he's waiting to see him eating it. Maybe he's just hungry. Maybe he needs the sugar rush. But in a few bites, it's gone, and Foggy licks his fingertips, and then reaches into his briefcase, where he gets a moist toilette, and uses it to wipe his fingers nice and clean. The used toilette goes into a little bag inside his briefcase.

Looking around, he fails to see the woman in the darkness. He didn't have too good night vision, and being in the light didn't help. Tapping his briefcase as he waited, he began to hum. It was an old tune, something by the Beach Boys. The humming is later joined by lyrics, "... where you want to go to get away from it all. Bodies in the sand, tropical drink melting in your hand. We'll be falling in love to the rhythm of a steel drum band, down in Kokomo."


Quake has posed:
She lets him eat his donut, still giving him deep scrutiny before deciding that he's either mostly harmless or completely harmless. That or he's a damned fine liar and pretender right on down to body mechanics. She wasn't sure it was a talent he actually possessed. Few did.

So deciding, she hopped off of her nearby perch and made her way over towards him, her pace liesurely and casual. "Say, got a match?"

Skye pauses in front of him, asking the perpetual question of those who bum things everywhere. Got a match? Got any spare change? Bus ticket? The list went on.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
Recognising a potential sign, Foggy responded with, "I use a lighter." And he reached, carefully, into his coat pocket, withdrawing a lighter. It looked brand new. It was even a nice one. Like the kind you'd buy in a tobacco shop. He mustn't have wanted to appear like he didn't own a lighter. The countersign was supposed to be 'better still', and Foggy added further confirmation, "until they go wrong." The last bit was supposed to be 'exactly.'

He had worked it out with his contact. It was all very cloak and dagger, and when asked to provide some sign and countersign, all he could think of was a novel by Ian Fleming, one of his favourite authors. Once he knew that she was who she was supposed to be, and he was who he was supposed to be, he offered her the lighter, just in case she actually wanted to smoke something. "I'm Foggy." He was going to have to reveal himself, if this was to go through, so he decided to start from the beginning. That, and his briefcase had F.P.N. on it, and there was a card slot that had Nelson and Murdock. He never wanted to be without a business card.


Quake has posed:
It's too dark to see the amusement in her eyes, but it's there in her voice. "Better still," the woman murmurs, taking both lighter, and seat beside the man.

She tugged her well worn jacket closer as she pocketed the lighter, waiting to see if he'd continue the byplay. She wasn't a novel reader, really, but the sign had intrigued her enough to look it up. It was quaint. Unique. Seemed to fit the man beside her. Though more than ever she wondered just what someone like him needed someone like her for.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
"So, um..." she never gave her name, not even a fake name he could use besides 'hey you'. He was taking a lot on faith here. There really was no easy way to do this, "I... kind of need someone who can find something that somebody doesn't want to be found." He frowned, his tongue planting firmly in his cheek. He looked her over for a moment. "All right, I might as well get this out there." He reached, again slowly, deliberately slowly, for his briefcase, pulling out a picture of Danny Rand, the billionaire. "There's something fishy about this man. I imagine you recognise him? I'm worried, about someone, and just, I want to know that he's okay."


Quake has posed:
Skye gives a faint nod. "I don't smoke. And you can call me Skye." She listens to what he wants, all without reaction. When he's done speaking, she takes hte picture of Danny Rand and considers it. "I could find out what you want. I'm guessing you're asking me because you don't want anyone to know you're doing this, especially.." She looks over. "I'm going to guess a girl. Someone you're sweet on? You work for a law firm, so you could handle this under your usual workload. Except that's probably her job, isn't it? Or part of it. Which complicates matters. You don't want her to know you're digging. And you don't want her to know why."

The photo is handed back, having served its purpose. "Am I close?"

Foggy Nelson has posed:
'Sky' he thought to himself, well, that was as good a code name as he had ever heard. Come to think of it, Foggy probably sounded like one too. Maybe he should have said he was Franklin. At least that was a widely accepted given name. Skye was getting way too close for comfort there, and he tried to deter her from getting too close. She must have known who he was. "We, we don't have the ability to get the kind of information I'm looking for." Also, it's incredibly illegal. "There's something there. I know it." He had no idea, but Karen seemed to believe it, and he believed Karen. "And I just want to know. In this day and age, everyone leaves a trail. Nothing happens without being recorded. I need someone who can find that trail, follow it back, wherever it leads. Lives could depend on it. But yes, this is my thing, just me. No one else knows, except you, and our mutual friend. I'd appreciate it if it could stay that way." He put the photo back in his briefcase.


Quake has posed:
"You could get the information somehow. You got to me." She's not unaware of her status. She ranked amongst the best in the world. Even if she did get caught. And that's what had her ppondering this. The man likely wasn't even aware of who he was sitting with. Or how easily she could handle his request. If it was out there, diggable, pokable, findable - she'd find it. There was no such thing as gone forever on the net. And unless the man never touched anything digital, there would be traces.

There was, too, the other matter: SHIELD. If she did this.. and she still hadn't decided.. it could impact her carefully constructed and rebuilt life. Not that she hadn't slid things under the wire of propriety since becoming an agent (because she had), but she was choosy. It had be worth the risk to herself. Not just some sob story about worrying about someone. Even if the man were sweet on the woman in question and doing a piss poor job of hiding the fact.

"So, tell me why I should do this for you?" The question is blunt, and without preamble.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
"I'm guessing you know who I am. You know my... friend." He meant his client, who put him in contact with her, not his partner or anything. "So, I passed your first test. It's still up in the air on the second test," meaning, will she agree to help him. "All I can say on that is, lives may depend on it, and my motives are in the right place. We all know where that path leads. God knows I'm going out on a limb here. But if I'm going to be on a limb, it'd be nice to have a friendly hand to help me keep my balance. And the truth is; you probably shouldn't. The risk isn't worth it. The man in the photograph, he has money, he has connections. I'm sure you know what someone in that position can do. And, there's the fact, well, the inherent issues of what we're talking about." He was a lawyer. He hadn't said anything that would get him into trouble, or at least, nothing he couldn't argue reasonable doubt over. "You're either going to help me, or you won't. Am I the kind of person you want to go out on a limb with?" He then reached, slowly, into his briefcase, "I have doughnuts." He smiled at her, hopeful.


Quake has posed:
Her reaction might not be the one hhe expects, a full on snort of near-derision. "Donuts? You're seriously going to try and convince me to do this with donuts?"

Daisy just shakes her head, looking out over the night-stilled park. "You have no idea who you've got here, do you? If I do this - and it's a mighty big if - you're asking me to risk myself for what probably amounts you making sure some girl you're too afraid to ask out isn't getting herself in over her head with some guy you've just told me is likely going to make my life hell if he finds out." Which odds are he won't. He shouldn't. Not unless /he's/ that good, and she knew all the hackers of her level of expertise. They might run under assumed names, but there were signatures and tells. You got to know who you were dealing with. Unless she was mistaken, this Danny Rand wasn't going to number amongst them.

But now her curiousity was piqued. Which might have been the man beside hers point. Still..

"You're a second rate lawyer from a third rate firm. What I want to know is how someone like you and your.. friend.." And by friend, she means the person he's worried about, not their mutual contact, "are messed up with this Rand person."

Foggy Nelson has posed:
Putting away the doughnouts, when she seems to have no interest in them. "More for me," he remarks as cheerfully as he can. He understood where she was coming from. He had played this out. But it was hard to counter her points, when he happened to agree with them, and he didn't know anything about her. In court, if you haven't met an opposing lawyer, you get to know them through the trial. By the summation, you should be able to come up with an idea of what they're going to say, do, and how to react. The question was, who understood the other better. Plus, there were always the nuances of the case itself. Some cases couldn't be won no matter how good the arguments were.

"Thank you for saying I'm a second rate lawyer," he thought he was a third rate at best, "and we're still working our way up the rankings. We're going to be contenders." They did actually punch above their weight, way above. He was actually a first rate lawyer working for a fourth rate firm, that often beat second rate firms, and some first rate. They were all about the upset. Sometimes they'd lose the case, but still declare victory because they'd beat some of the claims that really shouldn't have been. He had something to be proud of and a lot to protect.

"He came up. My friend is concerned. I... don't actually know all the details. But I want to make sure he's okay." He lied, but he was trying to deflect it. They probably both knew he was lying with that subtle deflection.


Quake has posed:
"So that's your story, then. And you're going to stick with it?" Skye looks over, a hand drifting into her jacket poccket to play with the lighter he'd handed her. She goes back to looking out over the park. "See, here's the thing. You keep lying to me and expecting me to put myself in danger for you. I already don't like that. I get that you're putting a lot of faith in me here, but I'm not the one seeking you out. You came to me, remember?"

Now she does look over at him. "Let's start with don't undersell yourself. I've seen your cases. Or enough of them. Or I wouldn't be here. Clearly your friend didn't tell you what you were getting into here, or you'd know I don't do anything I don't want to. I'm good. Very good. And you're trying to convince me by lying to me, which either makes you very desperate or very stupid, and I don't know that I want to work for either of those."

She lets that sink in.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
Foggy thought he had lied once, and even that wasn't so much a lie, as an omission. He omitted the 's' sound in she, an honest mistake. It could happen to anyone. "My friend hasn't told me anything. If anything, my friend has done everything possible to not let me know. But I know, enough to be concerned. My friend is trying to keep me out of this. And I want to get involved, because that's what you do when your friends are courting danger. You back them up with whatever you have at your disposal. And this is about as Hail Mary a pass as I can think of, but I'm going for it, because it's what you do."

"Probably a little of both," he smiled to her desparate or stupid remark. "For the record, I did say you probably shouldn't help me. I know what I'm asking, and believe me, I'm not comfortable with it. But it's what you do. Should you do this for me and my friend, well, I can't offer money, but you'll have the best third rate law firm in the city at your disposal, and you'd have my everlasting gratitude."


Quake has posed:
It's his last that gets a smile from the woman, her lips bowing crookedly over the fleeting thing, relaxing in a way she hasn't up till now. "At my disposal, huh? Gee. Thanks." Her tones are too amused to be totally scathing. "Frankly, Mr. Nelson, if I do this, and things go siddeways, there's nothing you and your firm can do for me." That she's pretty certain of. She'd been read that riot act already, and it had gotten her a year's training in SHIELD and two of the crankiest SO's a girl could ask for. Also the two best a girl could ask for, a thing she held more than a little smugness over. What had Fury had said? They'd both wanted her. Not bad for a girl they were going to toss into prison not so long ago.

Which brought Skye full circle back to the matter at hand: If she did this, she'd be not just breaking the law (which didn't bother her so much), but she'd be putting her staying in SHIELD at risk.

His story was laid out before her. Not much more than what he'd started with, but this version rang truer. She wasn't feeling all those little niggles that said this was a bad idea. To be certain, it was still a bad idea, but his tale of woe was tugging at her. "Tell you what, I'm not going to make any promises. But I'll think about it and if I decide to look into it, and find anything, you'll hear from me." Now she was the one lying. She had every intention of looking the man up now, if only to sate her own curiousity. What she hadn't decided yet was whether or not she was going to let the man on the bench beside her know what she found out. Her suspicion was no, she wasn't. But stranger things had happened. Besides, the man was likely to turn out to be just some other rich jerk hiding money in some unnamed offshore bank account. Those sorts of things were run of the mill. In her old days, she'd have exposed him for that.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
"Anytime, day or night," he said with a smile, before adding, "as long as those hours fall within normal business hours. Okay, okay, after hours too." But then she brought his optimism crashing down. "We'll do our best, if it comes to that, we'll do our best."

And then, after a pause, she finally gave him the kind of answer he had been hoping for. He reached out to clasp her hands in his, giving them a shake. It was an instinctive move. He even moved quickly. He was overcome with joy. His friend had a fighting chance. Skye had given him hope. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Or, maybe you do. I bet you even know what my middle name is." Very few knew what the 'P' in Franklin P. Nelson meant. He rarely wrote it out. But there were records and it was Percy.


Quake has posed:
"Percy." The name was an automatic mumble, just under her breath as she gave a surprised look at the extended hand. People in her position didn't shake hands. people in her position didn't generally meet face to face. It wasn't that she didn't know what to do when offered a handshake - it just was so far out of the realm of this facet of her personality that it took her a moment or two to respond to it.

When she did, though, Skye's grip was firm. There were marked callouses in all the places you'd expect someone who'd had weapons training to have them. She doesn't hold the handshake long, though. Just long enough.

"Right. You'd do your best." Again, her words are spoken softly, mostly under her breath. They'd had a few notable cases from her cursory look into them. Skye just didn't think Nelson and Murdock vs the Government of the United States was going to go in her favour. And that was if they didn't drag her into military court instead. She wished, now, that she'd paid a little more attention to the threats they'd made when she'd been given the option of signing up or kissing her freedom goodbye.

Foggy Nelson has posed:
Foggy's hands by comparison were soft, plush, smooth, and had no real calluses to speak of. He had lived a privileged life before school, and despite some financial hardships, he'd lived a privileged life since as well. He was just pleased she returned the handshake, and was going to help he and his friend out. He was ever so pleased. And while it might not go in her favour, Johnson v United States, they'd make the government pay for every body blow, and on their way down, they'd bloody a few noses too. It was just how they were. Plus, with Matt Murdock's closing arguments, all bets were off. The man was a gifted orator, even better than a former President. Military court, well, there wasn't much hope for that. Military court was a completely different animal. "We always do."