967/Errand girl

Errand girl
Date of Scene:	15 June 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Dragonfly (Arazello), 319

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Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    Sebastian finds himself at the river's edge in the small hours of the morning. This was a tantalyzing case; burglary at midnight, escape vehicle--a gray panel van--tearing through the near-empty streets, chased by patrol cars. It wound up in the river. By 4AM it was pulled out ... and empty. Not even so much as an engine. No upholstry. Certainly no people, nor any goods.
    The noise of the increasing crowd of alphabet soup: NYPD, FBI, USMS, SS, even representation from SHIELD as observers, cluttered his thoughts until he found himself wandered away, still in shouting distance, but not in talking distance.
    The night is clear, but lightning still somehow strikes in an alleyway a few blocks away: brilliant flash of light, thunderclap. No other effect. Possibly worth investigating but...
    High heels clack on the sidewalk behind him. A familiar voice, contralto, paired in his memory with height, silver hair, black body suit, insect eyes.
    "A bit of trouble, Detective?" Dragonfly asks.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    That many badges, that many acronyms, it often leads to a hazing of the channels, static upon perceptions. He walks along the sidewalk, footsteps guided by whatever autopilot takes over when the mind wanders. He has his hands in the pockets of his coat, and his eyes lifted upwards for a moment as the light flashes. Brow furrows and he starts to imagine possibilities, options, reality edited for the current plane.
    And then there's the voice. Curious. Cooperative cape. So strange. A fine mental faculty. If kindness existed she would possess it.
    "Mm, Dragonfly." He looks at her, away. "Car chase, dropped in the river. Pulled out. Nada." He says that last word as if he liked it. Nada, nada nada. Rolled around in his thoughts. "Started as a burglary. Strange."

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    "You mean they swam away?" Dragonfly asks. "Or you mean there's no goods; they ditched it somewhere?"
    Amateur detective leaps to amateur conclusions. Still, she's asking, not stating. She hasn't quite got the super arrogance down yet. And here it comes.
    "Anything I can do to help?" she asks. "I mean, not pushing. Just, if there's something I can do I'd be glad to help." She grins easily. "I mean, it's really quiet right now. I'm bored. I can run errands or I can, I don't know, go ogle some of the G-men.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "Hm," She has helped before, and she is good, fast... He tilts his head to the side and looks across the way back towards the mass of law enforcement agencies and officers, then nods with her towards an alcove along the side of the street, just a building's entrance that will hopefully break line of sight.
    He mumbles to himself, "Eliminate all possibilities." A small smirk lights Sebstian's features up and he meets her eyes. Even though he's seen what's behind the lenses of her mask he doesn't care, insect eyes? Please. "Premise, perpetrator doesn't need to breathe. Mechanic option, pre-planning perhaps. Mutation? Unlikely, possible. Distance possibly traveled combined with time since submersion..." The man shakes his head, "Too far, too much ground too quick to cover."
    The man looks at Dragonfly and says, "But you possibly could. You'd need to look for tracks out, not in. Vehicle? Possibly, less likely."
    Then there's a pause and he looks to her. A moment's thought. Still. He says, "Possibly dangerous. Meta-human is an option. Your safety should be of prime concern." He advances that possibility, then cocks an eyebrow as if waiting for her to answer a question unasked directly.

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    Dragonfly glances over at the officers, suppresses a smug smile, and follow Sebastian to the alcove. "Yeah, it'd be best if your colleagues didn't see me," she agrees.
    Then to his comment: "Supers, you mean." It's not a question. "I am one, you understand, right?" she asks. "I'm a pretty powerful one. I mean I'm not Supes grade. But I'm hard to hurt. And I hurt things pretty easily. And if I get hurt, I won't be hurt tomorrow."
    She smiles sweetly.
    "But your concern is touching, Detective. Thank you."
    She eyes the shore, looking for all the world like she's already plotting a search pattern. "Got any ideas of what I'm looking for? Tracks ... but what kind? You say probably not a vehicle. Animal? Human? Other? And you're the expert here. What's the best place for me to start?"
    There isn't even a hint of flinching away from the danger.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    A nod of his head is given, instinctive for him as he motions across the river. "Opposite side, then northwest. Interstates in the distance, multiple routes of departure. If that way though, chances only evidence will be found." Sebastian furrows his brow, letting his thoughts wander, "They could be in three different states by now."
    He folds his arms and gives a nod. "I anticipate I'll be relieved of responsibility to this case in approximately fifteen minutes. I'll be available after then if you need help..."
    He turns his head slightly and for some reason affixes her with his gaze again, levelly. Hm. Probably nothing. He taps a fingertip on his upper arm, then adds. "I'll be at Egg Shen's if you need me." Apparently that place is a favorite.
    Then as if to himself he adds, "Can't sleep lately. Hm." Then looks back at her, "But Shen's. Alright?"

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    Dragonfly makes as if to leave, pauses, looks at Sebastian. "Detective Greene?..." She pauses, looking like she's about to say something, but her facial expression changes. Shaking her head she dismisses whatever it was she was about to say. "Never mind. It isn't important. Just ... wouldn't being seen in public with me be a problem? Should I get a trench coat or something?"
    She doesn't wait for an answer; she rockets into the air, seemingly exhulting in the sheer velocity. A fair distance from the scene she plummets into the river, heading in the direction of where the van was pulled out. The small plume of water she generates fades away into the general froth of the river as it erases evidence of her presence.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    Egg Shen's All Night Restaurant isn't exactly a place that does a brisk business. Usually it's take out during dinner, and rarely are there people that dine in. But it suits Detective Greene's needs. Inside there's only a token effort at decor, mainly it's a white interior with red tables, some brick a brack scattered around. But it also has some seating outside, which is closed at this time of night.
    But Sebastian tends to get his order, then steps outside the brightly lit restaurant to take down some of the chairs off a table. He'll sit down with his fried rice, not very adventurous after all, and sits there in the shadowy half-world between the lights on the street and the lights of the restaurant.
    Right now he's settled with his back to the restaurant, his eyes considering the slow flow of traffic that rolls by. Usually it's just a taxi cab, or a truck making deliveries, but each has their story and he tries to discern them all while he waits.
    Now and then there's a /sluurp/ from him drinking the last of his soda through a straw.

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    As far as disguises go ... it's a pretty lousy one. Dragonfly's form is tall and very distinctive. As is that silver mane she wears. And the black legging/boot combination thing she's got going on. Anybody who knows her will spot her. Just like Sebastian did about fifteen microseconds after she turned the corner and started heading toward Shen's.
    Still, it's plausible deniability for casual observation. He'll be sitting and talking to a woman in a black canvas trench coat. Rocking a fedora of all things. Silly, really, but nothing is going to scream "team spandex" to passers-by. It's going to more scream "this chick thinks she's in a spy flick from the '40s".
    "Detective Greene?" Dragonfly talks in a hushed voice to him, quickly flashing her eyes at him from under her sunglasses before replacing them as if she wasn't incredibly obvious. "I'm back from the errand."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "I like your hat." Is the first thing that he says when she comes up to him. He gestures to the seat near him and gives her a furrowed brow look. He looks over her accoutrement and then seems to consider judging it, but he doesn't entirely understand why some people think spandex and armor and capes are alright and when they're not alright. Still.
    "Would you like a seat, or would you be more comfortable if we spoke while walking?" He starts to gather up his garbage, in case she prefers to do the latter. But then his curiousity gets the better of him as he asks, "But first, did you find anything?"
    He does, at least, push the chair out a little further should she want it.

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    Dragonfly takes a seat, crossing her legs and lounging back. "Thanks!" she says, tapping the brim of her hat. "Took me a while to find thie one. I had to hit a few costume shops. Did you know New York had all-night costume shops? Of course it does!"
    She pauses, knitting her brow. "Oh, right. Business. I ... think I found something. But I have no idea how to interpret it. And ... you were right about them probably being anywhere by now. Whoever they are, they're human. Ish. I saw bare footprints coming out of the river almost exactly where you said I shoudl look." She wrinkles her face.
    "Incidentally, I'm useless in the river. I can't see a damned thing and I come out smelling like a sewer that poured into a chemical factory."
    She continues the narrative again.
    "So up to the northwest. If you draw a line about 40 degrees from the shortest line across the river to the northwesterly, you'll pretty much hit where they came out. Bare footprints, but ... uh ... about this long."
    She holds her hands apart an impressive distance. Probably a size 17 or 18, maybe larger.
    Two sets. And both of them were dragging something behind them. Left a line in the dirt behind them. Thin line..." Her fingers are held apart by about two inches. "...and continuous. Never stopped. They hit the road and ... well, I'm not a tracker. But there was a fairly fresh oil pool on the ground near where the tracks disappeared and I caught a few drops in a line moving away. The drops got erased by traffic later on, though. In the direction of the Interstate."
    She grins like a little girl. "Did I do OK?"

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "That is..." He frowns and rubs at his chin, thoughtfully. "I had thought you most likely would find nothing. Finding something." His brow knits as he considers the current political landscape, with those agencies in play, and his precinct, not to mention his current standing in the department.
    "Size 17 or 18? Large person." Then he thinks about it and corrects, "Being." But he nods as she speaks a little more, "Will need to cast the tracks." But he shakes his head.
    "You did extraordinarily. I am impressed. I'm going to have to ask of you a favor, however." He folds his arms, "My attachment to this evidence will lead to less of a chance of apprehension. You could use an increase in standing, as well as possibly good press. I recommend you go to the FBI with the information. Take what we discussed as your own idea. Super individuals often have abilities and do not need to justify their acquisition of information."
    For a moment he chews his lower lip, "You will just have to project confidence, which..." He looks at her, "Should be no problem for you, considering your power level and mental level."
    Then, "Is this acceptable?"

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    "Uh... Confidence isn't my power," Dragonfly says with a nervous laugh. "Remember that I'm an accident, not a real hero. Would maybe an anonymous tip with photographs and casts handed over to them do the job?"
    Her eyes, even without the glasses, would not emote in any way that a human would understand. I mean how do compound eyes emote with no irises or pupils to dilate? She doesn't even have lids to position. Still, the rest of her face is as expressive as any human being's, and she's staring now at Sebastian with something approaching the fear of a phobia.
    Rather like a deer caught in the headlights.
    It's there for a moment, and then gone.
    "Ooohhh! You're right, but I hate it. I don't want publicity. I just ... want to be good."
    Be good. Not do good. Interesting choice of words.
    "How do I talk to Feds?"

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "Dragonfly." For a moment something rather calm and in control seems to entirely come over him, the tall gawky redheaded man in the trench coat meets her eyes with his and once he has her full attention he says, "There are no such things as accidents in this world. It is simply we do not have the capacity to perceive all the factors at play."
    And, curiously enough, that's true. But he looks at her, perhaps meaning some sort of attempt to build her up, or perhaps just being rather correct in his word choice.
    But then he gives her a nod, "You are good. You may perhaps avoid publicity, but your approach will require some of it."
    Another /sluuuurp/ comes from his soda then he pushes the empty away. "I suggest you float down before them and declare your information, clearly knowing more than they'd expect you to. Act like the force of 'god' by coming down from on high with knowledge and answers."
    There's a pause, then he adds. "Your garb, your manner, your beauty will all present you as something angelic. Embrace it."

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    There's that deer look again. For longer this time as she mulls over his statement. Then it vanishes in an explosion of determination.
    "I'll do it," she decides. "Like you said. Just drop out of the sky in front of their office; barely subsonic so I rattle the windows a bit." Mischief lights her face. "I found out I have to hold back in the city or ... well ... glass shatters." Back to business. "I'll just plummet from the sky, to step down the last bit of distance, walk up the stairs, and talk to whoever's behind the desk like I own the joint."
    Uncertainty again.
    "After that I'll spend the rest of the afternoon throwing up and eating ice cream."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    He points towards the general direction of the crime scene, probably fewer agents there but perhaps still a few tasked with the case are on the site. "Could do it at the riverfront, or the office. Either or. Might be more cinematic at the river." At that his lip twitches, slightly. A joke? Probably. Sebastian Greene's original persona mildly asserting itself in that curious amalgam.
    "Perhaps avoid the throwing up if you can. Hm." He looks her over blatantly and then asks, "Does your heightened state as a gifted individual enhance your caloric intake and process?" He looks at her again. Some folks might think he's just taking a gander at the goods, but for Seb, it's anything but.

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    "It's ... complicated." Dragonfly pauses. Thinks a while. Decides. "There's two of me," she says. "There's Dragonfly-me and there's normal-me. We share nothing physically. Only my ... spirit? ... for want of a better term is constant. When I'm Dragonfly I don't eat. When I'm ..." She stops, like she was about to say something by force of habit but caught herself at the last second. "...the other me, the real me, I'm a perfectly ordinary woman. Even a deep medical inspection would find nothing unusual about me. So yes, Detective Greene," she says, her voice turning wry, "I would gain a lot of weight if I ate that ice cream without throwing up."
    She pauses, then seems to realize something.
    "Just to be clear, eating ice cream and throwing up was a joke. I'd probably spend the afternoon afterwards curled up on a beanbag chair and sobbing."
    It's not clear if that's a joke.

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "Your current mental state, Dragonfly." The tall man says as he looks at her sidelong, his brow knitting together a touch as if not entirely sure what the protocol is for such a thing. "It concerns me, and as charming as I am, I doubt I could be of use as a counselor might well be." At that again he tries a small smile, though this one seems to spring forth from muscle memory and not the rehearsal he sometimes attempts in front of the mirror in mornings.
    He starts to fiddle with the straw in his soda cup, causing it to squeak as it goes up and down, in some way intrigued by the sound. "Is there someone you can speak with? A family member, or family friend?" He tries to recall that meeting he attended some time ago about dealing with grief... even as he makes that straw squeeka-squeek-squeek.

Dragonfly (Arazello) has posed:
    Dragonfly's face first goes pale. Very pale. Then flushes.
    "I think I agree with you," she says, her voice steady as if under the direct, micromanaging control of a tyrranical sound board engineer in a Soho recording studio. Her body language is anything but; it's as if someone has just stabbed her and she's trying to stand up straight. "Delivering it now is more theatrical. I should probably do it while the trail is still as hot as it is. Which isn't very."
    She steps backward away from the table ... into another. Her face flinches with the "DAMN IT!" look. Still, she bulldogs her way through it. "Thank you for the advice, Detective Greene. I'll try to keep it in mind; it's very sound. If you don't mind, I'll get rid of this one little task and then head off home."
    She pauses, her body language still stiff, but not as. Her voice is a little bit less cold this time around.
    "Yes, this is abrupt," she says. "And yes, it was something you said. But no, it wasn't your fault. You can't know the minefield without a map. We'll speak again, Detective."
    And with that she rockets straight up, having temporarily forgotten her trench coat and fedora. The effect is faintly ridiculous. She apparently recognizes this fact as the words "Porco Dio!" float back down from the sky in her contralto tones."

Sebastian (319) has posed:
    "Dragonfly..." Sebastian starts to stand up and extends his hand towards her, to steady her as she bumps the table? To offer some hint of comfort? Who knows? But the effort is made even as she turns away, but then he stuffs his hands into his pockets and watches as she flies away. Those last words filter down and just cause him to look all the more confused.