Owner	Pose
Katsumi Oshiro	The sun is slowly drifting low on the horizon, gradually approaching sunset. There's still an hour or so before the light begins to fade. On this far end of the wharf, foot-traffic is basically non-existent. Everyone present is inside the abandoned warehouse at the far end, still engaging in their street fights. Katsumi had just been in one not too long ago. It was, without a doubt, the worst showing she'd ever made; whether in-ring, or on the street. Most people would've been humiliated after the beating she took. But for the Punk Princess? It was bittersweet. She's human again, for whatever that means. She's stiff, sore, looks rather rumpled and scuffed up, but there's a tiny, contented smile on her face. The coolness of the Winter air isn't even bothering her, despite not exactly being bundled up. Just a jogger's hoodie worn over a racerback sportsbra, leggings, and boots. She's perched conspicuously atop a crate facing the water, the heels of her boots rhythmically bumping against the crate's frame. It would be energetic, if she weren't still recovering from getting kicked to pieces. Moving too much still sends shocks of pain through her torso. But at least nothing's broken.
Mary Marvel	A low-level crook had tried to get out of his capture after trying to rob an ATM by telling the one who had caught him of some underground "blood-sport thing" going on at a particular location. No negotiation was effective, and after he was turned over to the cops, a little jaunt over to the Lower East Side seemed appropriate. She had had a little trouble finding it, though, and by the time she reached the place she was worried it was all over. She needed to get better at this. And then the crystal-clear, dulcet voice came from roughly 15 feet above and ahead of Katsumi's head. "Are you all right?"
Katsumi Oshiro	The voice from above might seem like providence to some. To Katsumi, who'd been miles away in thought, it seems to mean condemnation. She immediately lets out a startled squeak and falls back onto the crate. There's an immediate tremor of pain that races along her ribs, but adrenaline turns her tumble into a complete backwards roll. Right off the opposite side of the crate, in fact. Katsumi lands gracelessly on her rear, her hands catching behind her back. A couple seconds later, and the top half of her head peeks up over the edge of the crate. Bright magenta eyes fixate on the likely-still-floating girl. They blink once. Twice. Then a hand lifts as well, giving a shaky upturned thumb.
Mary Marvel	The beautiful brunette immediately looks distressed, descnding to land on the concrete platform. "Oh, my gosh! I'm sorry!" She crouches next to Katsumi, offering a hand (and an arm) to help her sit upright. "I didn't mean to startle you." She looks so woebegone, it's priceless.
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro is so beyond apprehensive. Life, in itself, has been a series of hardships, culminating in this most recent trip to the States. Her poor heart can't take spooky people flying around! But she does (very nervously!) accept the hand to lift on wobbly knees, and immediately props her shoulder against the crate. It comes with a wince. Her everything hurts. Frigging Chun-Li. She owes her payback. And maybe a hug. It's complicated. Finally able to process the face in front of her, Katsumi's apprehension diminishes into something more akin to sympathy. "It's- it's fine," she replies haltingly. Though obviously of Japanese descent with exotic features, her accent is darn near perfectly clean metropolitan North American. There exists only a lilt of an accent. "What are y- I mean- /who/ are you? What do you want?" She leans back a little from the obviously-superpowered girl, rapidly concerned that she's come to arrest her. Heck, street fighting ain't legal.
Mary Marvel	The woman smiles encouraginly. "You can call me Mary Marvel. I'm...well, how do you say it without sounding self-conscious?...I'm one of the local superheroines." She looks to the warehouse doorway. "I...heard there was some kind of blood-sport thing going on. Is it true?"
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro's eyes widen. Worries confirmed! She's here to arrest her! Panic! The punkette quickly looks to the warehouse in question, knowing full well fights are still going on inside. Then back to Mary. Then to the warehouse. Back again. "Nope!," she squeaks. Katsumi is not a gifted liar under duress. "Just rowdy people being rowdy!" Her stance shifts, trying to achieve a more casual posture. In the process, she issues another shock of pain along her ribs, earning another hissing wince. And in that moment, she's keenly aware of her own ruffled condition. Most people would likely be able to tell she was either in a fight, or had a severe workout.
Mary Marvel	Mary ohs. Jeez, she's such a dork. The woman is HURT. Really hurt. She holds up both hands. "No! Wait! I'm not here to arrest anybody. This is like...one of those fight-club things you're not supposed to talk about? No one's actually getting killed or nothing?" She suddenly moves to the doorway, peeking in. Suddenly as in one moment next to Katsumi, the next at the doorwy looking in. No...no death sports here. It's not the kind of thing she'd normally go to, but... ...no. No one's assaulting anyone who isn't consenting. In the next moment, whoosh, back to Katsumi, still looking concerned. "Holy cats, you shouldn't be moving around! Do you want to get bandaged up? I can get a medical kit for you!"
Katsumi Oshiro	Whoosh! Katsumi's silky-fine hair ruffles in the wake of Mary's rapid movement. And then a second time when she rushes right back. Her heart is in her throat. This is where it happens. This is where she gets arrested, deported, and sold to science for experimentation, right? She's already cringing, waiting for the handcuffs to be presented. But they don't come out. Instead, she's being given the most wholesome level of concern she's probably ever been subjected to. It's as disarming as it is perplexing. She's a foreigner. She's not used to antiquaited idioms. Her mouth moves soundlessly at first, but her words manage to catch up. "I- I'm okay. Yeah. It's like.. like that, I guess. A club." Not really, but whatever. It keeps the 5-0 off her back. "I don't need treatment or anything. I kind'a like it." After a beat, she quickly adds, "I don't mean like, /like/ it, I'm not a weirdo. It-.. it's hard to explain."
Mary Marvel	Mary still looks worried, but she doesn't move away, doesn't whistle for anyone. She nods after a few moments, sitting next to Katsumi, hooded cape fluttering in the breeze. "Well...I'm not going anywhere. I thought I was busting up deadly combat thing, and now I don't know. Maybe if you try to tell me, I can understand."
Katsumi Oshiro	The problem is, Katsumi doesn't really know enough about it to give any assurances. And since she's already been beaten up, she's /very/ sure she can't win a fight with someone who has super-speedy superpowers and flight. The Japanese girl leans off of the crate to walk a few paces aside, vexedly rubbing her palms against her face. "I just needed out for a minute, okay?," she asks. "I don't know what they're really doing in there, I just heard there was fighting going on! I wanted a piece of it! To-" She abruptly cuts off. Katsumi turns to Mary, her head cocking to the side. "You don't know who I am, do ya?"
Mary Marvel	Mary stood up. She looked at Katsumi speculatively. After a few moments of analysis, she says with a note of regret, "...No. Sorry. Are you famous and I'm just being ignorant?" She was kicking herself. She didn't have computery things to do facial recognition. She just had her own memory. One of her failings.
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro actually grins at that. But now she has a conundrum. Everything in her wants to tell her exactly who she's talking to. But at the same time, legally dubious things are happening and she doesn't want a superhero beating up on her. What's a young, brash superstar to do? Ultimately, caution is shirked as it always is. "Katsumi Oshiro! Punk Princess of the NLF!" At least she doesn't bring up the recent incident of injuring an opponent in mysterious fashion. But then, her name is plastered all over the recaps and news stories where it's concerned, so the point is moot.
Mary Marvel	She opens her mouth to say something...and then it clicks. Because her mind cross-referenced her name with Captain America, and then it is all there. "I *DO* know that name! Yes!" Her face almost literally lights up with recognition. "And..." There had been that incident, when she had... ...WHOA. "Oh, my Gosh...you had an ORIGIN, didn't you?" Katsumi is not the only one to fall back on old habits.
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro is a performer. A gladiator. She's in it for the thrills, the fame, the fortune - and being recognized is one of the greatest feelings. So despite how beaten up and sore she is, when the superheroine seems to recognize her, it's met with a broad, sparkling smile and happily-shut eyes. A fist props to her hip, the hips cocked to the side, and elegantly smooth hair framing the opposite side of her face. Girlishly confident, unabashedly happy. That question jars her right out of it. Magenta eyes pop open again, the smile turning to a small, confused 'o'. "Doesn't everyone? Everyone gets born, ya weirdo."
Mary Marvel	Mary smiles. "Everyone gets BORN, yes...but I'm talking about an ORIGIN. I am sure you didn't mean to hurt that person you kicked. And she's doing much better now. But that was YOU having an Origin. A Superhero Origin. Suddenly, you could do something you never could before, right?" She favors Katsumi with a soft smile. "I had an Origin, too. It wasn't like yours, but they are all different. But suddenly, I could do amazing things...!"
Katsumi Oshiro	Those opened eyes widen to saucers, and the mere idea seems to send the Japanese girl into a panic. "Aah! No! I didn't have anything like that!," she refutes, arms waving. "Look at me! I got beat up! I mean, I got my a** /kicked/! So hard! And I hit the other chick as hard as I could, and she didn't go flying!" In a rush to prove her normalcy, she pivots to the crate and thumps her fist into it. Whump. "See?!" Beat. "OW, F***ING S***!" That's what happens when you ram your fist into an unyielding wooden crate. Her tirade is halted for a moment as she cradles her hand, bottom lip bitten, stalking a few steps in a circle.
Mary Marvel	Mary is firm on this. "Wait a few seconds, please." WHOOSH, she is gone. Two seconds later, WHOOSH, she is back, with a medical kit donated by a very helpful ambulance driver. It helps to know where the ambulance companies are. "All right...have a seat and let me see what I can do for you." Mary's voice is pleasant, but firm. Arguing might be a lost cause.
Katsumi Oshiro	And at this point, Katsumi is tired of protesting. Her hand hurts. Punching the crate was stupid. Turning, the girl drops to sit beside it, resting her back against its rigid surface. She settles in with a wince, the damage she's sustained still very present. But she surrenders her hand to the superheroine dejectedly. Without looking anywhere but at her own outstretched legs, she tries to explain. "It's not that having powers or whatever wouldn't be cool. It's that I gave up everything to have what I've got. I mean... /everything/. University, money.. family.. everything. I had a chance to do what I was born for, and that was the cost." She scoots a boot along the pavement restlessly. "And then this happened. I wasn't trying to hurt anyone. I mean, I was, that's kind'a the point - but not like /that/. One of the most important things you learn when you're training to wrestle is self-control. And if you don't have that, that's it. You're out. You're too dangerous. The GM-," she pauses to glance to Mary, unsure if she gets the vernacular, "-the, uh, boss. General manager." Back to her legs. "He puts up with me 'cuz I can pull a crowd. But after that show, I don't know if I've got a career now."
Mary Marvel	Mary nods patiently as she examines the hand. Bruised, the skin abraded open in a couple of spots. She begins applying a wet wipe to disinfect the area, then used an antibacterial cream on it. "That can be rough. But it sounds like what you need to do is try to test the scope of what you can do. Like when it happened...what was the weather like? Was it storming? What time of day was it? Were you wearing something or doing something different? Did you interact with someone or something before the show? Did you see, hear, smell anything unusual?"
Katsumi Oshiro	"N-no, I'm normal now," Katsumi posits as her head tilts back to Mary. "That's what I'm saying. Nh- ow. Careful, huh?," she chides as a wet wipe stings. "I've been stuck in a hotel room. I needed to vent. So I came here to just.. do what I do. Turns out, I don't have that power anymore. I'm just me." Her brow knits. "These eyes aren't mine. But everything else is." She gives her head a shake. "I was wearing my usual gear. Didn't eat anything you Americans don't pig out on. And maybe besides a couple oddballs I ran into days before, there was nothing out've the ordinary. Just tons of jet-lag, some bad dreams caused by it, and... that."
Mary Marvel	Mary pauses, looking at Katsumi's eyes closely. "Those aren't contacts? I thought it might be something you used, the theater of it, but...okay. Your eyes are different. Okay...let's start with the dreams. What sorts of dreams were they? Do you remember the details?"
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro lowers those inhumanly-hued eyes from Mary, self-conscious. "Not contacts. Everyone keeps thinking that. My eyes used to be really pretty green." Unabashedly vain, even if about the way she /used/ to look. "Uh, they're just dreams. I dunno. I can't remember details, just voices'n faces, and waking up freaked out. That's from the jet-lag, though. Since the day I landed in America, I kept getting these hits of fatigue. Might've passed out at one point. But I'm over it now. I'm all good."
Mary Marvel	Mary begins bandaging the hand. "It's been my experience that nothing is unimportant when it comes to this kind of thing. But sudden fatigue? That's unusual, too. And passing out? Also too coincidental." She hmmms. "You said a couple of oddballs. What was odd about them? Remember...nothing is unimportant."
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro eyeshifts back up to Mary. "One's a cop who's like a Skullgirl. Do you know Skullgirls? She didn't know Skullgirls. But she seemed okay, I think. Didn't do anything weird to me. I don't even think she made the show. And another time, these people were trying to burn a lady. It was so f***ed up..." She frowns at that particular memory. "...New York, huh? Ugh.." Fidgeting a little, the punkette attempts to turn over onto a knee to face Mary. "But I said I'm fine now. I got beat up, remember? Couldn't even barely rock that other chick, and I hit full force. I mean, there's /gonna/ be a rematch, and I'm gonna be coming at her correct, but that dropkick took like zero effort. So whatever mojo I had, it's gone. Kay?"
Mary Marvel	Mary looks to Katsumi's face. She goes over the conversation again. What did they not cover...? "Wait...what time of day was that fight? Do you know when it was scheduled to start?" She had gone through a number of heroes, and suspected reasons they had the powers they had. And sometimes...they only had powers when conditions were right.
Katsumi Oshiro	"I don't know, the show started at like... uh.. six or seven? I'm not sure when I hit the ring. I was the third match of the event, so..." Katsumi glances down at her lap. This person, making her do math. The nerve. "I guess about forty minutes after the start? We were at about the halfway mark in my match when it happened. Felt pretty good, really alert, high energy. On-point Oshiro." Her head tilts to examine her bandaged hand. She isn't sure it was necessary, but she won't argue it. As long as she can keep it hidden from her GM, it'll be fine! And even if she doesn't say it, she appreciates the modicum of coddling. That's been in rare supply lately. Rarer than usual. Her entire federation hates her more than their average level of general angst over this delay. On the horizon, the sun has begun sinking against the water. The sky begins to color in vivid pinks and golds, the barest traces of twinkling starlight starting to emerge.
Mary Marvel	Mary chuckles. "Okay...I think we're getting somewhere. Now, stay still, and let me check the rest of you. Least I can do is help you mend faster." She glances to the horizon. The Wisdom of Solomon had given her an idea. "Tell me about your career, Oshiro. How long have you been training? You are in VERY good shape..."
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro settles back into the crate and looks ahead again. Her hand drops to her side. "I oughtt'a be. It's only the most important thing in my life." The last part is said with a certain melancholic overtone. She's looking down the barrel of her life being over, after all. "I always tried to, like.. what's the word?" Her button nose crinkles. "..Emulate. /Emulate/ the moves I'd see. And Japan really had the greats. Technical perfection. Crowds didn't just like'em for the spectacle or the drama, but because they were so damn /good/." She exhales a wistful sigh. "I started officially training when I was eighteen. They had this open event thing near my university, and I took my shot. They wanted me. And it was all I /ever/ wanted. God, I was such a dork back then. All awkward'n wobbly. My gear even looked dumb. No one does the leotard thing anymore, it's not the '80s. Wish I told my eighteen-year-old self that. Probably would've done better back then."
Mary Marvel	Mary chuckles. She bet Katsumi could do the leotard thing now, if she wanted. She only could as Mary...maybe when she got her growth spurt... "Hey, that sounds better than most people. You went out and did something. A lot of people don't do something unless it's easy. Someone told me that, on average, when making a choice, the hardest choice is often the right one."
Katsumi Oshiro	"Yeah...," agrees Katsumi, her voice growing quiet. Silence follows for several seconds. Finally, her gaze turns to Mary again, wounded. "And look where it's got me." The fact that there's so much more to it is likely evident in the slight crackle of her voice. "I'm about to have nothing over some- some /stupid/ freaking fluke."
Mary Marvel	Mary touches Katsumi's shoulder gingerly. "Nothing is broken that can't be fixed. If it is just some fluke...then it won't happen again, and you can go ahead with the life you've chosen...but if it is NOT a fluke, then you need to know what to do. What causes it, and how to control it. Because what you do requires control, does it not?"
Katsumi Oshiro	"The damage is already done!," laments Katsumi. But at least she isn't swatting away the hand at her shoulder. "I already look like a reckless loose cannon that might've just cost my federation /so much money/! And how'm I supposed to explain what happened? We didn't have wires or something goofy like that, they know!" Her head turns, palms moving to her face. Her head tips back to bump against the crate. "It /has/ to be a fluke. It /has/ to," she murmurs against her palms. Translation: she needs it to be a fluke. The sun continues its gentle descent over the horizon, shifting yellows to golds, and blues to purples.
Mary Marvel	Mary is sympathetic. She herself has a double life to lead. "Look...you cannot change the past. But you can choose how it will move your life. I had to make a similar choice. But if it is true, you can control this kind of gift. It does not have to control *you.* You can master it, harness it, make it work for you. Denying it only ends up worse."
Katsumi Oshiro	"I just-.." She hates that Mary is making sense. But she's normal now, for crying out loud! That's what that whole fight was about! She was happy just before! "I just want to recognize the face in the mirror. Okay?" Finally, Katsumi squirms to get to her feet - which she does with the mindless ease of any normal person. "If I have to just get used to have weird eyes, fine. I can make it work. I can let people think I have contacts. I just wanna be normal."
Mary Marvel	Mary smiles. She stands up as well. "Define 'normal,' Katsumi. You can't. No one is 'normal.' There's just weird in different ways. I'm sure people didn't think a woman in wrestling was normal. But you made your Weird work for you."
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro scoffs. "I wasn't the first! I better not be the last. That'd mean I made it totally unacceptable somehow." She glances down at herself. She isn't wearing her ring gear, granted, but the mind briefly flits to her two-piece. Nah. Heck, she's more conservative than some other ladies she's seen. Attention returns to Mary. "I'm talking about normal for /me/. I've never been normal to anyone else. But I know me." As a sort of fidget, she places her right fist over her left shoulder, winding the arm a little as if working out a kink in the joint. "People like me 'cuz I'm fun. I say the things they think, but are too scared to. And I'm a fighter. People like fighters. At least while I'm in the ring." Outside the ring, she's pretty sure not one person likes her. That's her own fault. "And I mean, I'm also hot. That helps."
Mary Marvel	Mary colors a little. She's been dealing with a lot of stuff, including the dichotomy between Mary Batson and Mary Marvel. "Well, maybe there's more to you than you suspected. That's not bad. But you can't choose to just be ignorant of it. Because if there IS something, and you ignore it, then something else will happen. Something more serious than a few broken bones and a ruined wrestling match. Do you want to take that chance?"
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro sputters. "No! But I'm normal! It doesn't matter! You're not listening!" The frustration finally tips her to thump a fist atop the crate again. This time, the corner of the crate crunches and splinters under her unharmed fist. She quickly withdraws the hand, automatically suspecting she just broke so many bones; but it was the wood that fractured, not any part of her. Katsumi is silent as she holds her hand protectively. Her jaw hangs, eyes wide, and she retreats a step from the crate. Her heart is in her throat, and her eyes begin to water.
Mary Marvel	Mary blinks, then looks to the sun. "...no sun. Almost full dark. Katsumi..." she looks back to her. "I think it has something to do with the sun, or the lack of it. The match was after 6 pm, the sun was down by then."
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro shakes her head quickly, scattering those silky black tresses. "Nonono.." She continues backpedaling until she bumps into a lamp pole. Leaning against it, her hands press to her face. No sign of discomfort in the one that'd been tended just before - only distress. The girl murmurs a Japanese phrase repeatedly to herself, likely difficult to distinguish even by a native speaker due to the low volume and shaky quality of her voice. Though the sun's final rays are disappearing even now, the light provided by the lamp above clearly reveals that her scuffed and abused cheek is no longer even marred. Katsumi sinks down to a huddled ball. All the relief she felt in that fight, the reassurance that there was some chance she'd turn out to be normal - suddenly gone. And it sounds like Mary has already figured it out and neatly decoded it in a sensible, easy-to-parse package. This did not make her happy.
Mary Marvel	Mary walks over to her. "Katsumi, come on. Listen to me. It happens at night. ONLY at night. So see if you can stipulate matches ONLY during the day until you master control of it. Because you have to, Katsumi. And knowing how to control it can help you get your life back."
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro's arms have risen to cover her head. This isn't what she wants to hear. She wants to hear that this is made up - an elaborate hoax. "Shows happen at night," she replies breathlessly against her knees. "What am I gonna do when I go back to Japan? Someone's gonna find out. They're gonna want to cut me up! Do experiments on me! Make me a weapon!" Basically every horrific thought that possibly can has effectively rushed to the forefront of her mind.
Mary Marvel	Mary blinks, momentarily startled. "No...no one is going to do any of that to you. Not if I have anything to say about it." She grasps those rather hard-hitting hands in her own, her hands warm. "If you can't stay on days, then you have to learn how to control your strength, and quickly. I can help you with that." She smiles playfully. "Do I look like I'm very strong, Katsumi?"
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro is providing zero resistance, and why should be rather obvious the moment her gaze is coaxed back up; she's terrified. Of herself, of her situation, of her future. "W-.. what?," she asks. "J-Japan isn't like the States. Th-.." She cuts herself off. She doesn't want to think about it. The more pressing question on her mind is what even /is/ she? "...Are you offering to have me beat up on you?," she asks suddenly, abruptly.
Mary Marvel	Mary giggles. "Nothing like that. I don't think I'm in your class, anyway. But the question remains. Do you think I'm very strong right now?"
Katsumi Oshiro	"Ah-.. w-.. uhm.. I don't know," Katsumi says, having no real past experience of way to tell with her. And Katsumi is still seeing things through a very human scope. "Maybe? What're you getting at? Just- just say it straight. English isn't my, um, first language."
Mary Marvel	Mary smirks. "I could tell you...but it's better to show you." She looks around, then finds a length of rebar about 40 feet away. About six feet long, made of steel, lightly dusted with rust. She walks over to it, then picks it up. She smiles warmly to Katsumi as she starts walking back, placing her hands on the sttel bar... ...and bends it double in a heartbeat. There is a thin scream of metal that stops as the bar is now bent in half. She repositions her hands as she continues to walk back to Katsumi...and then, with another short shriek of metal, the two bars become a 1.5-foot bundle of four. The bend points are a dull red, because physics. She learned about physics in school. She holds it up for Katsumi to see. "You can learn how to control your strength."
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro remains right where she is, huddled in the growing darkness. The distant sound of rolling ocean and shouts from within the warehouse create an odd ambience as Mary retrieves the rebar. At last, Katsumi watches her bend it. And then bend it again. She doesn't know what to say, or how to react. She, herself, kicked a girl straight into the ER. No one looking at her would've believed that, either. Her gaze drags from the metal bundle to Mary's face. "What am I?"
Mary Marvel	Mary puts down the bent rebar, then steps close and uses those same hands to hold Katsumi's. "You are the Punk Princess. You are Katsumi Oshiro. And you never back down from a challenge, right? So OWN this. Make it yours. HARNESS IT. And when you do...you will know who you are."
Katsumi Oshiro	"God****it..." Katsumi's head tips forward, bringing her brow to rest against her knees as her hands are taken. She's too tired to make any kind of fuss or muss; emotionally drained. "I could be anything. A monster. A mutant. A devil. I don't know. Cursed?" A shaky sigh escapes her. "What do I do if it's all over, huh? I got nothing else."
Mary Marvel	Mary sits next to Katsumi. "You're not a monster, or a devil. But mutants aren't monsters, either. And it isn't a curse if you do some good with it." She touches her shoulder. "And if it's all over...then you start again. Move here. New York is a great place to be a superhero. Someone of your physical training could get a job as a physical trainer, or something like it. And I'll help you, any way I can. Cross my heart." She stands up. "It's getting late. No one's committing a crime here. And I have to go to bed." She takes one of the boards from the crate, then "writes" in the wood with her index fingernail. "Email me at this address if you want to talk, or get together, or do anything really." The address reads: TotallyNotSupergirl@gmail.com
Katsumi Oshiro	Katsumi Oshiro /really/ doesn't want to hear this part. She's talking about abandoning the thing that made her who she is! Her life's work! What she's passionate about, what she craves! The only thing that ever made her genuinely happy. Her eyes squeeze shut and her hands run through her hair, trying her very best to not let that thought sink in. She can't keep her eyes closed forever, and Mary clearly wants her attention. They open to see a very conspicuous email address scratched onto a piece of wood. She takes it, brow furrowed. Sure, that's not gonna look weird back at the hotel. She'll need to stop somewhere and transfer it onto a piece of paper. As much as she hates to admit it, the thought of being on her own with this is the most terrifying part. "Okay," says the normally brash punk in a very quiet voice. "I'm gonna.. sit here a bit." It's a gentle assurance that Mary can zip off to do whatever she needs to. Katsumi's going to take a fiver and sob.