942/Reporting In

Reporting In
Date of Scene:	14 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Dragonfly (Arazello), 319

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Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    It's nighttime and the usual filth is out in the streets. Interlaced among them are the normal schlubs doing night shifts, the artists, the partiers. University students blowing off steam are making excessive noise in the quieter residential streets to the annoyance of the residents. It's a normal night, in other words.
    Dragonfly lands lightly next to Sebastian from above, gliding down to earth with the rain, the first noise being her boots' heels striking the pavement next to him--behind him, really--as he crams authentic American Chinese food into his maw while fruitlessly attempting to stop rain from dripping into it.
    "Detective Greene?" she asks quietly. "How are you?" Then, as she realizes the incongruity of appearing out of nowhere and exchanging banal pleasantries, she doubles down on the banality. "Not very nice weather tonight."
    The weather that's not touching her. The rain is visibly moving around her. And now around him.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "Dragonfly." Sebastian looks up from the shrimp fried rice that he holds in one hand, the little white and red cardboard container already soaked through a bit with grease. He stabs the chopsticks into it, and sets it down on the bench beside him, covering it with a discarded newspaper, since clearly he doesn't want any rainwater to get into it. "Where's the other one?"
    He gets to his feet and meets her gaze, his own abruptly on hers and intent. "Yes, terrible weather. Terrible." He replies as if reciting the approved response needed for such an inquiry, found in the appropriate earth travel guide. "Did you make it to McCallum's ex? Haven't heard anything over the radio. You moved fast." He steps back and out into the rain, lifting his eyes upwards into the air as droplets start to spatter his face, his shoulders, that brown hat he wears, unmindful of getting a face full of water for whatever reason.
    "Dispatch is dragging its feet. Connections I'm thinking. Tough situation." The way he speaks is a sort of rapid-fire thing, and without Harpe there to help keep him on his guard she is probably getting exposed to the full Sebastian Greene experience.

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    "I move faster than Spider-Woman," Dragonfly says with a bit of a private grin. "Also, I was the only one who actually talked to her, so ... well ... I guess I'm the one to report the results.
    The rain-free zone spreads a bit around the bench as Dragonfly walks around it and sits down. "Not a great choice of place to eat," she comments off-handedly. "The restaurant itself would be better, surely?"
    "Anyway," she continues, all-business now, "I figured if the ex was possibly being watched, having spandex show would be bad. So I talked to her as my other self."
    She stirs uncomfortably.
    "She ... uh ... kind of leapt to the conclusion that I was badge and I didn't correct her. I didn't say I was a cop either, but ... I'm not sure what the law is around that."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    Sebastian gives her a nod nod as she speaks to her partner's failings, then furrows his brow slightly, features slipping to momentary incredulity. "Hmm?" She's talking about something that's not the case. The restaurant. Ah. "Not a people person." He says as if that explains why he's not in Egg Shen's Chinese Restaurant and leaves it at that.
    His eyes follow hers and as she seems to affect an aspect of contrition he waves his hand to the side as if brushing it away like so much detritus. "Did you make direct claim? State you worked for the police department? Were acting on behalf of a law enforcement official? If not, fine. You're fine." Then again, it could also be brought up in court down the line... if they knew where to nab her.
    "Good approach though, allow the interviewee to make their own conclusions. " He wipes his hands rather openly on the legs of his pants, getting grease smears up and down them but not seeming to care. "What data did you acquire? Hopefully enough to move forward on the case." He checks his watch and grunts, "Seven hours. Six hours fifty eight maybe."

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    "I looked kinda severe," Dragonfly explains. "I wasn't in my relaxing clothes. I guess she saw the get-up and decided 'cop' and went from there. I didn't at any point mention police. I talked about her ex only. Ms. Miller ... also kinda jumped to the conclusion he was dead. I asked her if she knew Vince McCallum and she just went into a tizzy. It actually made asking the questions easier. But she also started packing up a backpack and a small suitcase right away, while she was talking."
    Dragonfly reaches up to scratch her head in puzzlement.
    "I think," she says slowly, after a bit of considerating, "that they were exes for a reason. But not the usual reasons. I don't think he cheated on her. I don't think there was violence. I got the distinct vibe from her that she thought he was involved in something that troubled her. Anyway, she ran. Within minutes of my leaving she left herself going down the street the opposite way to the direction I left in."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "That..." The skinny man in the trenchcoat hmms again, "That gives me doubt." But he taps the toe of his shoe a few times into the nearby puddle just off the edge of the sidewalk. "Hm. Might need to get her picked up but that could be bad on its own." There's a hesitation there to speak further, yet she can see the expression on the man's face, it's clear he's churning through some thoughts, some ideas, navigating likely scenarios and trying to decide on one that will fit the requirements of now.
    But then he looks up at her as if only then realizing she was still there. He points at her, but not aggressively. "That's good. You did good work. Glad to be surprised. Capes usually are hard to get good things out of." Abruptly he pulls out his cellphone and starts to thumb through the images on its screen. Eventually one appears that is just a brilliant shade of blue. He spends an indordinately long amount of time looking at it.
    "Thank you, Dragonfly. That will serve for now. One question, however. Why did you agree to perform to my wishes?" He asks of her as if the answer might reveal things about him as much as it will her.

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    Glowing first at the praise, Dragonfly's eyebrows raise at the question. She slumps slowly against the back of the bench, crossing her legs and resting one arm along the back.
    "Most of us in team spandex," she begins, "either wanted to be 'heroes' or were brought up into it or the like. I'm not like that. This..." Her free arm gestures vaguely along her torso. "...just happened to me. Happened to the wrong person. I wanted nothing to do with it." She turns her head and looks off at a group of revelers singing a bit too loudly. "I'm still not absolutely sure I want to," she adds in a confessional tone of voice. Her voice then strengthens.
    "But," she says, turning her head to look at Sebastian again, taking off her sunglasses, letting her compound eyes highlight her alienness, "nobody gets a choice in life, do they? Within limits there are some choices, but overall we're victims of whatever random crap fate throws at us. And it would be childish to hide from that. So I decided that I would help. The start was a bit shaky ... but I'm pulling through OK. I like to help. I ... just really don't like getting hurt while helping."
    A slow smile crawls over her face.
    "And I'm not likely to get hurt asking a few questions now am I?"

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "Sometimes," Sebastian answers her statement about people being victims of random crap, but then he adds. "Sometimes we choose the random crap and embrace it." He looks at her eyes and doesn't seem taken aback by them, instead he just notes them with a glance, then back to watch her lips move, then back to the eyes, but mostly the lips.
    "That's strange." He pronounces as if having passed judgement, "I had hypothesized that the very act of adopting a different persona and fighting crime was an act of ego. But you seem to derive little from it." He punctuates that last bit with a small 'hm!' that serves to give it some oomph before he looks down at her hands when she looks at them, then watches the smile appear on he face.
    He seems dubious.
    "No, I doubt I could hurt you. I barely passed the hand to hand portion of my physical fitness."

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    "Oh, it's not you I'm worried about hurting me. It's things like gian starfishes from outer space. Or The Flash, that bastard!" She grits her teeth practically at naming the famed speedster. "Or weirdo magical sea urchins that spit poisonous darts."
    She stops, frowning.
    "Why am I doing this again?" she asks rhetorically with a grin.
    "Honestly, though, I did what you suggested because I think we're both working on the same goals and I think it's terrible that cops and spandex don't get along. And I understand why we don't too; a lot of team spandex have egos as flamboyant as our costumes. I figured running an errand for you quickly was a small price to pay for helping out someone who works a whole lot harder than I do."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    The man looks at her askance, brow knit in this haze of moderate confusion. He takes a breath and looks her over, eyes following the way her grin spreads across her face, but then seems to focus entirely on her words. He gives a concessionary nod, even as he takes a seat next to his protected fried rice. He gestures towards the bench seat beside him and waits for her to take the seat or decline the offer.
    Then, once that's done, he looks up at her. "That is a nice sentiment. I wonder..." Those two last words hang there for a time, a little uncomfortably so as he sort of just watches her. Then as if nothing happened he continues, "If you perhaps might be suffering from a chemical imbalance?" He then holds up his hands towards the man, "Not that that is a crime, or rather should not be. But if you are entertaining designs on my person I should warn you that I am from Canada and we handle those things differently."

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    An expression that is undoubtedly very familiar to Sebastian floods over Dragonfly's face: perplexion. She stares at Sebastian as if a third eye had suddenly sprouted in the centre of his forehead. And as if he'd suddenly grown insectoid mandibles.
    "What?" she blurts out, surprised. "Huh?" she adds helpfully, shaking her head in confusion as another piece is added to the carnival of confusion. "I don't understand," she finally manages to express. "What are you talking about?" She glances around the street as if to ensure that reality hadn't changed around her when she was otherwise engaged.
    "Chemical imbalance? Designs on your person? I don't follow."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    He holds up a hand and sort of waggles it around, his brow still holding that look of confusion. Together as a pair they must look like a pair of tourists trying to get directions out of the other and failing. "Chemical imbalance. Misaligned perception due to emotional state leading to a possible approach of affection possibly leading to some sort of mating ritual." The way he rambles that off is perhaps a touch disturbing as he has to think along those lines at least in some part.
    "If I'm mistaken, please forgive me. I still am not sure I'm up on the current mores of this part of the country."He tries to offer that there as some form of olive branch or an out for her to take, as he's apparently missing something here.

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    "..."
    There's a long silence as Dragonfly just stares. Her eyes being what they are, the expression is hard to read. The body language and facial expression is, however, that of someone trying to figure something out.
    "I'm actually in mourning, Detective," she says gently, apparently reaching for the right way to express things. "I won't go into details for obvious reasons," she continues, "but the person I was supposed to marry died relatively recently. Mating--with anybody--is not at the forefront of my thoughts. To put it mildly."
    She leans a bit away on the bench, adding, "I'm going to guess, and if I'm wrong, please don't get offended, that you're not what psychologists would call 'neurotypical' are you? I work with quite a few who fall on the spectrum nearer the autistic side."
    Beat.
    "In my day job, I mean, of course."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    For a moment his mouth opens. Then it closes. He looks at her sidelong, opens. Closes. He looks pained for an instant, then he flares his hands. "Hm. I believe I passed my examination with sufficient marks." He stops, then chews on is lower lip. His brow furrows as he seems to let time pass, but then he comes back with. "There's no excuse or cure for making your foot your regular meal, day after day, Dragonfly."
    There's another beat, then he seems to come up with, "And it seems like I don't just make it a snack, I'm three course mealing that sucker." He looks at her with what one might consider an apologetic tilt, his gloved hand coming up to push through his hayloft style hair and adds, "What I'm saying is. I'm an asshole. And I'm sorry."

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    With that Dragonfly bursts out into laughter. Not harsh laughter. Merry laughter. The laughter of someone genuinely amused. And perhaps the laughter of someone who's been looking for a reason to laugh for a while.
    "Oh, I'm sure there are many words to describe you, Detective," she says with a smile, her insect eyes staring expressionlessly. "I don't think the word 'asshole' is one that applies; at least not in this circumstance. I'm not sure what you read as a romantic advance, to be honest, but if you read such, your reaction is perfectly natural."
    A little giggle, hastily-suppressed, escapes into the night air, dancing with the raindrops falling in a circle around the pair.
    "Don't worry, though, Detective. I'm not offended. I'm a bit confused, and maybe a touch flattered. But I'm not offended." She sighs and relaxes, adopting a more normal seated posture again. "And now that it's out in the open, I guess another reason I do this..." her hand vaguely gestures at the outfit and body again "...is because it's a distraction. From things I don't like to remember."
    There's a short pause as her jaw moves behind tightly-closed lips.
    "All that said, though," she finally finishes, "I am very serious about wanting to help out. I don't like being Dragonfly, but since I am her, I don't want to stand by and watch bad things happen that I could prevent or help with. You're always free to call on my assistance if you need it."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "I," He says as she finishes granting him such insight into her self, then he chases it with a few more words, "Can understand the desire to distract yourself with what's in front of you so you don't have to think of..." He looks to the side and again gestures, "All of this." Encompassing everything in the world with such a concise gesture.
    But that gesture goes awry as he accidentally causes his container of fried rice and chopsticks to fall over and into the crack behind the bus stop bench with a faint clatter of cardboard. He winces, having made a token effort at stopping its flight but not having the reflexes to catch it. "Bother." Is his concise admonishment.
    He turns back to her and nods, "Well I'll continue to accept your help as long as you ask for it." Sebastian looks down at his fallen dinner, then back up to the restaurant. "C'mon. I'll buy you a pupu platter."

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    The container stops mid-way to the ground. Dragonfly apparently has the reflexes to catch it. Unfortunately she doesn't have the experience yet to catch its *contents*. And the suddenness of her reaction causes the shield that was keeping the pair from being rained on to vanish as well. Thus the pair wind up getting wet while Dragonfly stares at an upside-down food container hovering in mid-air while its contents and the chopsticks fall to the pavement.
    Some Italian words escape her lips. They don't sound like nice ones. Something like "cazzo" and "porco Dio" among others.
    "Sorry about that," she says through pressed lips as the carton follows its contents. The rain stops falling on the pair again. And the rain that hit her just beads and falls off. "Doubly sorry. I still need a bit of practice with that."
    She reaches down to her hip reflexively before glancing down in annoyance. "Right. No pockets. Because my tailor is an idiot." She shrugs a "what you gonna do?" shrug. "So no handkerchief."
    She sighs and stands up. "I would gladly accept a pupu platter, Detective," she says.