548/Interviewing Subject: John Henry Irons

Interviewing Subject: John Henry Irons
Date of Scene:	23 May 2017
Location:	Midtown, New York City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	319, 279, Power Girl

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Sebastian (319) has posed:
    The ruckus began rather subtly, most people wouldn't have caught it. A coffee shop in Midtown New York is often the locale of minor public tiffs between customer and barista, or customer and customer, though rarely barista to barista. It's almost in part some of the charm of the city. At first it had started as raised voices, the clerk trying to keep their calm but the customer started shouting. A stream of profanity interspersed between a few choice invectives in a foreign language, rough to discern, something probably Slavic or Eastern European.
    Yet as quickly as it started it ended just as quickly, with the short bald-headed man making a lewd gesture and announcing roundly he was going to the toilet. And, true to his word, he did so. But then he didn't come out. Perhaps twenty, thirty minutes passed until a shrill shriek was heard and another male customer rushed out only to proclaim, "Somebody call the police, there's been a murder!"
    Shortly afterwards the police arrived, the owner of the coffee shop rushed down and the employees had blocked off the stall telling people they didn't want to see it, trying to block people off as best as possible. Then the black and white units showed up and people were cordoned off and asked to give statements to what was witnessed. Eventually... two detectives arrived.
    "Greene, the hell you doin' here? Thought they busted your ass." A rotund police officer called from his place at the door.
    The tall man in the rough trench smiles towards the officer hailing him. "Jacobs is down sick. I caught this one." Yes, caught. That's the word. He's trailed by his partner, "You know Detective Harpe?" The blonde woman with him gives the uniformed officer's hand a shake.
    "So what do we got?"
    "I dunno, was hopin' you'd tell me."
    

John Henry Irons (279) has posed:
    There he was, enjoying an iced coffee, only looking up slightly at the disagreement. In this part of the world, it happened. The locals seemed to have this stance, argue loudly, get out frustration, move along and everyone was fine. At least as far as John was concerned. So there was an argument, but then like most everyone, he went back to coffee and reading a paper he had picked up.
    Then, when it happened, John's first reaction was to go to his place, come back geared up; murder, his scans might help. But then, the rush of people to see the incident caused him to change the course in a manner. So that John Henry Irons instead stays to help keep anyone from rushing or trying to capture anything on smart devices. He sides with the owner that is, if he can. Mostly he remains silent, helping as he can, glad when the police get there. As they come in, he has that relief, he wanted to help, but the police where here now to do their job. He waits to make sure none of the gawkers at least rush the murder scene/restroom, but looks to his table and coffee, ready to just leave and pick up his drink. The ice has started to melt, it might be too warm for his tastes. That and even if he wants to help, no one actually wants to hang out near murder victims so much either. He starts to move away, towards his table as they come in bantering.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    Despite what television shows depict, police work can be dull. The officers had split up taking peoples statements, people were moved apart as the crime scene was cleared. Some of the customers are ushered outside where more uniformed officers are there to get the information they have. An ambulance has pulled up, its lights casting the scene in that red and blue haze even while people move about hither and yon.
    Through it all the owner, a short swarthy man with an infectious smile, talks to John in the steady rambling way of someone shocked by the course of the day. "Man, I mean... been here seventeen years. Never seen anythin' like this. I'm tellin' you. The guy in there... was like... just a mess. I'd tell ya more, but don't wanna give you nightmares but still..." It clearly does him some good to have John there to steady him.
    Yet when the detectives show up a certain hurried sense of activity enters the movements of the police officers. Greene sidles up to one, "Did you acquire statements from all the site witnesses?"
    "Most," The officer in uniform shrugs as he gestures with his notepad, "Got those guys, those. Still need to talk to them." He gestures in general towards John, the owner, and a few other people.
    "Right," For a moment Detective Greene catches sight of John, his eyes narrowing faintly. He then turns towards his partner, "Detective Harpe, I'll speak with them." Rather abrupt.
    "Sure thing, Greene. I'll just handle, oh say, _everything_ else." Detective Harpe's expression is a grimace on the tall blonde's face as she shakes her head, moving towards the actual scene of the crime, looking terribly like the world's most put upon police partner.
    But then Greene wends his way between tables, pushes a few plastic chairs out of the way, only to step up to John Henry Irons.
    "Hello."

John Henry Irons (279) has posed:
    John does his best to be reassuring to the man as the process unfolds. He's not the sort to linger at a murder scene, he hasn't see so many that it completely unphases him, but he's been around a little now. Its never pleasant.
    "No no, no one is used to that ... shouldn't have to see it ... you're doing the right thing." Just positive encouragment, but not to the point where the murder itself is spun in some other light. Both out of respect for the owner and the victim of course. His eyes look over police and moving the people too. Not his line of work, he feels for them too. Glad even when detectives show up. Real questions and answers, final statements, the owner might get on to cleaning at some point and be open again for business by the next day even.
    As he moves, he is greeted by the other, a simple hello. John nods, keeping his head down, he's on the tall side, its that gesture the tall do when they don't want to seem imposing, he has it down for the moment. Looking at the man, and listening, responsive even, "Hello sir." Assuming he's police, detective, both, someone of authority, he wants to help it seems or is, at the least, being cooperative.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    As if an afterthought, Sebastian remembers his badge and produces it from the pocket in his coat "Detective Greene, NYPD." He shows it to the owner, then to Steel, then the owner again. Back in the pocket it goes even as behind him his partner disappears into the restroom itself. He gets a few uniformed cops eyeballing him, but nothing too out of the ordinary.
    For some reason the somewhat tall detective looks towards John and gives him a nod, "If you don't mind, sir." He pauses for a moment, then another. "I would like to get your statement." He looks in turn to the owner of the store. "If you'll excuse us."
    The owner looks a little perplexed but then flares his hands as he steps back and to the side, to take up a position standing by the counter. He tries to affect a few different stances of leaning, or resting a hand on it as if trying to look natural, and failing.
    But then Sebastian gestures slightly with his hand to the side. "If you would." A few steps over, away from the crowd. Ah, privacy. Or what passes for it.
    "In your own words, sir. Please relate what has passed."

John Henry Irons (279) has posed:
    Badge prodcued, acknolwedged that all is official. "Detective," his head bobs affirmative agreement, and he returns a greeting. "John Henry Irons," that way the name doesn't have to be asked for accompanying the statement. Then again, the man nods, about giving a statement, accepting that its the others job and he remains compliant. A slight brow lift, as the owner is asked to leave, but then he can understand that, separating witnesses to their words don't inform each other or cloud thoughts. Folding one hand under the arm of his other, not into armpit, just below that, John proceeds to use the other free hand to talk to the detective.
    "There was some disagreement, between the clerk," he doesn't use the term barista it seems, "And a customer, so bald foreign man I think." His free hand, still upper arm tucked in to hold the other hand hostage there, or keep his large frame more dimunitive by way of tucking in, points towards the register or counter where he heard it. "They exchanged a few heated words, and the man walked off. I was sure he was done, going across the street." A look back at the detective, pointing hand scratching his chin. "You know, couldn't get frothy milk here, so taking his business elsewhere. But he doesn't go there, does he?" The hand leaves chin and points a couple of times towards the bathroom, "He goes there. I stopped watching, figure he'll get himself togheter, then leave or try a new order." A shrug from John then. "I'm fine, drinking my coffee reading my paper, next thing I know, someone's freaking out. They're talking about murder or something. I'm thinking suicide, you, was off balance anyways. I don't know how they figure murder, but I'm not trying to get in there to look at that .. scene either." All attention back on the detective, "Know what I mean?"

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    Something in the man's manner as he tracks John's expression, it speaks to a sort of distracted manner, akin to the thousand yard stare that some veterans gain at times after witnessing horrifying things. Or perhaps that's just how his eyes focus. Whatever it is, it may be a touch off-putting.
    "Foreign?" At that Greene seems to perk up, yet his manner is still a touch laconic. He does, however, nod as the man relates the situation. "How could you perceive him as being foreign?" The question comes easily, as if he might want to know for reasons other than just the corpse in the bathroom.
    Yet even as John might be answering that question, Sebastian starts to pat his pockets, hands touching the front two, the back two, then begins to go through the myriad of them in that coat he's wearing on this seasonally comfortable day. Eventually he produces a photo and brings it forth. "This man, does he seem familiar to you? Was he in the cafe today?"
    That photo is an old thing, crumpled, dog-earred, entirely having seen better days. Yet what is more, that photo is the man who went into the bathroom after the altercation. In the picture, it's just a headshot, he's bald and pale but also with a rather scraggly goatee.

John Henry Irons (279) has posed:
    It is, that thousand yard stare, where ever the detective is looking. Still there, addressing the detective, one arm tucked under the other, John shifts a little as if trying to get direct eye contact, or pull him in from where ever he is. Who knows, could be breaking his focus, but John is used to being direct.
    The two are not far from teh restroom of the coffee shop that is now potentially a murder scene. Police there, asking questions, John is being questioned by Sebastian. John has his head turned down just a little, as if not being so tall as he generally is, for the sake of being compliant with the police and detectives who are now on the scene.
    "Yeah, I don't know, eastern europe or something, gypsy, something." He's not familiar enough with the differences or nuiances, "Maybe Russian, but I don't know." Honest at least.
    Looking at the image of the bald man with scraggly goatee, that free floating hand he's using to point and express his words more, because hand gestures always help. The more, the merrier even. John offers to take the picture to look closer if the detective allows him. "You know, that could be the guy. I didn't get his face, I think shaven, but that, could easily be shaved off. Just as bald." A slight brow raise though, as he looks towards restroom, if they can't put photo to that face, it probably was a murder and he doesn't want to see so much either.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    And suddenly the eyes snap to attention, right to John's features and then holding his gaze. It's almost as if he'd awakened from a rather uncomfortable nap by the shrieks of angry cats outside, what with his brow furrowed and a slight look of annoyance to him. "Interesting." It's a word spoken so calmly and yet goes against the entirety of the man's mannerisms, as if the very concept of a poker face was foreign to him.
    But then as quickly as it was there, it's relaxed and the detective replaces the photo into the inner pocket of his coat now. "Do you recall what was said, do you remember the noise of it? Perhaps even replicate the sound at all?" For a moment it's as if he expects John to present a recording from his vocal chords, but then he seems to remind himself to add a few more words. "If you please. Any hint to such might be important." And then he attempts a disarming smile which is anything but.

Power Girl has posed:
    Being in New York was a new experience for Karen Starr, especially in her short life. In midtown however, when she sees a police car and other things happening outside of a coffe shop, Karen goes to investigate. Of course, while she's in New York, she tries to keep herself as Karen Starr. She doesn't really need anyone to know she's Power Girl.

She steps up and an Officer attempts to stop her. "Sorry ma'am, this is police business." And he tries to push her back....only to find he's pushing himself back. The guy looks at his hands, and where they are, then jumps back, looking at karen Wide eyed...and shr shrugs. "been working out."

John Henry Irons (279) has posed:
    A slight brow raise at the interesting comment, as of John assumes he gleaned key evidence from his statement just there. Nodding, but then, slowing. What was said, a hard question. "I don't know, it was shouting." And typical city life, he's one of those that just ignores it. But when it kept going, John sighs. His eyebrows raise, then fall, raise again. Much like his mouth, sort of fish like, as if thinking if he can recreate the tone. The free floating hand scratches his chin too then. "You can't get that here," he speculates, in a loud voice, doing the barista, and then the man, he does a swort of loud whispering nonsense. The sh's and ch's and dz's and such might at least give the detective an idea more Slavic than what John was thinking, he concludes the barista with, "We refuse the right," but his shoulders keep shrugging. He tried the voices, even a higher pitch, which is hard for the large man, for the barista's side of the conversation. His eyes looking up to recall what he thought he heard, and murdered in the attempt. But they come back, "Something like that, then he left." He missed the part about the man saying he was going to the restroom it seems.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    Outside the coffee shop there are a handful of uniformed police officers, each running crowd control for the investigation inside. A few are taking statements, even as the people outside mill about. The ambulance crew are hustling out a gurney from the back of the vehicle when one of the cops steps up and tells them, "Don't worry fellas, you won't need that..."
    "Wha?" One of the paramedics turns his head, frowning, "They said we got one inside?"
    "Yeah, crazy. I know. But serious, once you see this... you ain't gonna need it."
    The two paramedics sort of look at each other, shrug, but then make their way on in.
    Yet the officer in front of Karen has entirely other matters to deal with. He gives the woman a once over and spreads his hands to the side, trying less so to 'force' her away as perhaps now to reason with her. "Uhh, just some bad business went down inside, ma'am." He looks over his shoulder, then back towards her. "I recommend you go get your mornin' cuppa somewhere else. Ya get me?" He offers a smile, but it's a dardonic one.
    Inside, however, Greene listens to John attentively, his eyes following the movements of the man's mouth rather clearly, but then when John stops speaking he answers at first with a nod, but then with a few words of his own. "That is staggeringly helpful." One would almost think it was sarcasm, especially from a New York detective, but the sincerity might be all the more surprising.
    "While he was here, did he speak with you? Have you seen him here before? Did he try to strike up a conversation?" Then, out of nowhere, "Was the phrase Callabrahahan ever uttered in your presence?"

Power Girl has posed:
    Karen smirks at the officer. "I don't drink coffee, actually. Just thought I could help actually. I'm Karen Starr of Star Labs." She then raises an eyebrow at the conversation she hears, but doesn't say anything. "If you don't mind, I really do think I could help, if you don't mind having someone outside of your department helping."

John Henry Irons (279) has posed:
    John focuses, or tries to focus, but the arrival of someone coming in draws his attention. He glances over at Karen and, then glances some more. Sure there is a murder in the other room, but he's still warm blooded and male, glancing that way sort of comes with the territory. "Did he speak with me? Not that I remember, but I was just here for coffee, paper and then back to my work." Ignoring most everyone except for the argument that arose while the man was still alive. "But he may have spoke with others. I mean, I don't really take notice of my fellow people." He means bald. "Sort of slides past me, so I didn't hear any conversations he may have had. I don't think he came with a friend either." Not that the detective is asking. A glance more at Karen, around the Star Labs part it seems, not just his visual interest stirred it seems now with her there. The detective brings him back, "Callananigans? What I don't even know that word. You know, he might of said it though, but I didn't recognize half of what he said."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    The officer speaking with Karen is already waving her off, shaking his head as he starts to gesture to the side. She might even almost hear the beginning of the words 'move it, lady' just a split second before he's interrupted. By a voice that calls out loud from inside.
    "Let her in, patrolman!" Greene doesn't even look away from John Henry Irons as he shouts this, almost as if he's shouting at the man in front of him. But then he remembers to turn his head to the side to make the required eye contact and reiteration to the man who is now looking back into the coffee shop through the open door. "She could be of some use."
    In that moment he turns back abruptly to Steel, affixing the man with his attentive gaze. "No, no. Good. It's good that he didn't. And how are you feeling?" That's a strange thing to ask. "Are you doing well? Do you feel fine? Are all your extremities fully functioning?"
    But that is the moment when Karen might be drawing close enough for him to look fully upon her. Curiously enough, and perhaps worthy of remark, she does not get a second glance down up down from him. Instead she'll see his blue gaze meet hers and for an uncomfortable moment he doesn't say anything. Then he does. "Ma'am. You work with Star Labs you said?"

Power Girl has posed:
    Karen looks to the patrolman and smiles to him. "I know you're doing your job, hun. I owe you a drink." She says sliding by him. "Yes. Karen Starr, Star Labs. My speciality is Xenobiology, but I did study human anatomy as part of my cirriculum, so I could be of some help here." She then looks to Irons and nods her head a bit. "Do you mind if I take a look at what happened?" She says to Sebastian.

John Henry Irons (279) has posed:
    Half looking to Karen, John is nodding as he listens. Good thing he didn't use that word, he makes a mental note of it, but its the wrong word his mind will be storing for the moment. "Um, yeah, I'm feeling fine, is there some reason I shouldn't be. Something about this guy you're looking for?" He looks around at others, seeing if anyone else is acting any more strange just the same.
    As Karen comes over more, asking questions. "You know, curiously, I might have some unrelated questions on that note." To Karen, either star labs or xenobiology, or both. He's trying not to interfere with the investigation either. He steps back, just a little to let them talk and such. After getting his two cents in.