Summary:Jason and Raven get together to discuss their pig problem. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Jason had sent a message for Raven to meet with him. He'd gotten some information from the police report on the attack that he wanted to share with her. Did he, perhaps, just want to see her again as well? He wouldn't admit it if he did, although she could probably sense it, at least a little bit, from the way his emotions brighten just a bit when he sees her.
Jason isn't a person who likes other people easily. Or has many of anything resembling friends. His 'family' and he are often on rocky ground, after all, and he doesn't socialize much. His nights tend to be busy.
The coffee shop he chose is large and open, a local place with large windows looking out on the street, not far from the university. He has a cup of simple black coffee for himself, already on his second after draining the first. He rises from his seat as Raven comes in, gesturing for her to sit across from him in the booth. There's a small manila folder laid on the table, a few sheafs of paper jutting at the edge.
"Hi," he says. Eloquent as always.
Dressed in that effortlessly chic way she has, Rachel's monochrome from head to toe, save for those lavender eyes of hers. Once again, she's not wearing nearly as much warm outerwear as most other people. The cold doesn't seem to bother her, though, as she settles in the seat across from Jason and smiles, bringing a bit of the cold winter wind with her as she does.
She gives her order to the waitress — cappuccino and a slice of banana nut bread — practiced, as though she had the menu memorized. She removes her fashionable scarf and says, "Hi. Thanks for texting me. I'm eager to hear what you've discovered. Do I have anything to worry about, re: Brother and Father Pig?" The last is said with a half of a grin, dry and playful.
Jason Todd is pretty casual in his own right, leather jacket set aside leaving him in jeans, boots and a tight-fitted black shirt emblazoned with some sort of skull logo. His thick build is noticeable, with his wide shoulders and rippled arms. His dark hair is burred down tight to his skull, a uniform darkness clipped to shaved just above his ears and at the back of his neck.
"Maybe," he says. He slides the envelope over, picking through some of the documents, "They only caught a few of the people involved in the flea market attack. Two of them were indigent, both with a history of drug addiction. Heroin. The woman they caught had escaped from a mental institution six months ago. Not seen since. All of them had been subjected to 'unnecessary surgeries'. They suspect one of the men had a botched lobotomy."
Letting her eyes scan the pages of the report that Jason indicates, Rachel listens to his reply with a solemn expression. "'Unnecessary surgeries.' Just the kind of phrase I like to start my day with," she says, her voice grim. Sitting back and staring at a fixed point in a contemplative fashion, she exhales. "Well, we already knew these Pigs were experimenting on their 'people.' The fact that they showed up and planned to kidnap people — me, at least — and create havoc otherwise… Was the attack meant to be a distraction, a way to cover up the abductions? Did it have a purpose beyond that?" she wonders aloud.
Jason Todd takes a sip of his coffee, "No idea," he says. "There have been reports of abductions in the homeless community, apparently, but, as usual, the cops don't take it too seriously. Vulnerable populations tend to get ignored. Which, I guess, is why they're vulnerable. I used to see it growing up - cops see people in some neighborhoods as a threat, not people to be protected,' he says.
He gestures for the waitress to come over, "Whatever you want. It's on me," he says. He has a decent stash of cash he picked up from taking down a mob poker game a couple of nights back. They promised to hunt him down. He hoped they would try.
"Have you noticed or seen anything unusual lately? Since this 'Brother Pig' character apparently took a liking to you. Not that I can blame him."
Rachel nods her head as she looks back to the papers on the table in front of her, lifting a stapled-together sheet to scan something on the next page. "It's disgusting that people aren't treated more fairly. I can't deny the fact that I'm less likely to be mugged by a guy in a nice suit, but that doesn't make him any more innocent than a mugger. Shouldn't afford him better treatment," she says, shaking her head.
As Jason calls over the waitress, it turns out she was already on the way to the table, bringing Rachel her drink and snack. She doesn't stop him as he tells the waitress he'll pick up the tab, ensuring that she knows who'll be paying for what. As the waitress slides the check over to join Jason's and heads off, Rachel grins. "Guess I should've ordered more. But, you're lucky. I ate something before I headed out and my tank's fairly full," she teases. Her playful expression sobers a bit as he asks if she's noticed anything. "Nothing's stood out as out-of-the-ordinary," she shakes her head. Then, she narrows her eyes mildly at the compliment, a hint of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth as she asks, "You tryin' to butter me up for? I already told you I'd help, if you wanted. I do have some useful skills."
Jason Todd winces a bit as he realizes he'd doubled-down on ordering something for Rachel, "Sorry, I'm not always good with…people," he admits.
"The world's a fucked up place," he says. "Somebody's always going to be stepped on, one way or another. But that doesn't mean we can't break the rules and try to even things out now and again," he says. "I'm going to canvass among the population, see if any of the other homeless have a hint of what's going on. Someone has to have seen something and the cops aren't asking questions."
To the last, he shakes his head, "No butter. Easy to see why you'd catch someone's eye. I don't imagine you being beautiful is exactly news," he says. "I appreciate the help, though. I usually operate solo. Mostly by choice. Still, it'll be good to have some company," he says.
"You and me both," Rachel says with a self-deprecating laugh. "You're not the empath, though, so you're excused. Me? What excuse have I got?" she shrugs her shoulders. She pauses a moment, on the verge of speaking as she stares outside at the gloomy day through the coffee shop window. Finally, the words come. "Beauty is the most treacherous of lies. It's one of those situations that occur in nature where something looks beautiful and, because of that, there are those who are drawn to it for their own reasons, seek it for their own ends… But, when they get it, it isn't what they thought it would be — it lets them down, it poisons them, or ruins them in some other way. A cruel joke of nature and design. Forgive my poetic turn of phrase and melancholic demeanor; I'm an artist," she says with a dramatic spin of her hand.
She takes a deep sip of her cappuccino and eats half of her banana nut bread slice, which she buttered. "Want me to come along? I can make the conversations go more smoothly, and I can almost always tell when someone's lying. Almost always," she says, dabbing at her pristinely painted lips with the napkin. "Let's say….Ninty-five percent success rate?" she says, sipping from her warm cup, again.
Jason Todd sits back in his seat a bit, "Gotta admit, I didn't quite follow all o' that. Been told I'm a bit of a philistine, if that's the right word. It sure sounded pretty, though. I don't think there's anything bad underneath your good looks, though, at least, not any bad that's your fault. Not the same as there not bein' darkness. Everybody's got darkness, some more and most. I trust people who handle it and face it head on a lot more than people that pretend it ain't there."
He drums fingers lightly along the table, then scoops the documents back up into their folder. "Yeah, you can come with me. Might want to bundle up a little. Just so people don't think you're advertising. I don't need to be punching our potential witnesses cause they proposition ya," he says.
Rachel smiles and shakes her head. "It's 'cause you don't know what's behind the pretty trappings. But, that's okay. You don't need to worry about it. I'm just saying an old saying in a different way: all that glitters isn't gold. If Brother Pig got me, he'd soon regret it for one reason or another. More trouble than it's worth," she finishes off her banana nut bread slice and gulps the rest of her cappuccino. Then, she laughs, looking down at herself. She's not exactly wearing a cocktail dress and hooker heels, here. "If they look at me and think I'm advertising because I'm not weighed down by a heavy coat, they need to reevaluate their deduction skills," she says, tugging at her turtleneck. "But, for the sake of argument, I'll bring a heavy coat, if it'll make you feel more comfortable. I just run hot, so I don't tend to need all the extra layers," she adds.
Jason Todd realizes he probably stepped in it a bit and runs a hand over his head, "Sorry, that came off wrong. I just…" he shakes his head, "Nevermind. You don't need me playing protector. I know you can take care of yourself. Just instinct, I guess."
"We're going to find these Pigs, though. And we'll find out what they're all about. And we'll take them down. Simple as that."