More Mistaken Identity
Roleplaying Log: More Mistaken Identity
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Eddie is tailed by some SHIELD trainees during an exercise, Roy steps in to dispatch the 'threat'.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: January 09, 2019
IC Location: Gotham
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 12 Jan 2019 18:08
Rating & Warnings: Language
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

Roy is patrolling, which is hard on the pocket-book when you need to hire a babysitter to do it. But if he's not a vigilante, he's just a mechanic, and that might be more depressing than his bank account balance. Of course, this being Gotham, there are great cornices, buttresses, and gargoyles to patrol (lurk) on. He's even been patrolling long enough that his nice languid high has faded, leaving him almost-as-alert as he thinks of himself as being. An arrow-line provides a nice swoop from one building to another, and he alights on a gargoyle with a full superhero landing. The line retracts, and he looks down to an almost-busy street in Gotham's East End. Something catches his eye, and he scans the street again, finding the pattern that triggered his subconscious — three people shadowing another one. He raises up a flat pair of electronic binoculars, studying the three trailers in their diamond formation. Yes, they're definitely trailing the dark-haired woman. Something about her tickles his subconscious, but he can't see her face from here. The street starts to clear, and he gathers another line-arrow, firing it off across the street. And then he waits, waits, waits… just as the last person in the triangle, an earnest-looking young woman, starts to cross in front of the alleyway across the street, aiming to plant his swinging boots into her shoulder and knock her into the alley. Just before he strikes, he gives the long, rising and falling Tarzan yell. It's not the greatest of warcries, but he's having way too much fun swinging to think of something better.

*

Eddie just meant to go out for cigarettes, but the Ducati Supersport she got out of storage with Owen was just begging to be opened up a little. The fact that she ended up in Gotham of all places meant that tail of hers had their job cut out for them. There was no street parking in front of the liquor store she found on the East End, so she had to circle the block in a widening series of turns until she found a garage.

Out on the street, she shakes her hair out of the helmet shape the short locks formed in, hanging her chinstrap from the gloved fist of her other hand as she walks to the corner and steps off into the white stripes that mark the pedestrian causeway. Crossing when the hand print was red makes an approaching car honk at her, but they just get the middle finger for their efforts.

By her estimation, she's about half way to the liquor store when she hears a triumphant call behind her.

*

Roy releases the line as he swings through the impact, landing beyond his victim and tucking into a neat roll. As he comes up to his feet in the alley (ugh, what is it with Gotham alleys and what did the back of his shoulder roll through?), he collapses his bow and tucks it behind him, drawing the escrima sticks from their holsters alongside his calves as he does. "Hey, assholes, in here." Because of course you draw attention away from the original target when you interrupt a mugging, kidnapping, murder, or other crime. Headed back for the mouth of the alley, he lashes out with a boot, kicking the woman in the ribs just as she's getting up from her surprise Roy-ing.

The other two trailers react a little more slowly that a real professional would hope to do, but much better than your average criminal. One draws an ICER and starts across the street, stopping as the horn honks around their quarry and looking in that direction. The other one starts sprinting back toward the alley's mouth, worried about his fellow agent.

*

Eddie looks into the reflection of a store front and then double checks it in the smaller side mirror of a car. She had three tails just a minute ago, and now she's down to one who apparently is packing. That means the other two split off, likely the result of that jungle scream. The problem is, she's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Well. Here we go.

Eddie keeps casually walking before ducking into the corner grocer where she takes off in a sprint through the store. She can't be sure there is a back exit, but it's a good guess they take deliveries through the alley. Just as she pops into the back, her hand reaches out to grab the edge of a fruit crate and spill the contents out into the aisle.

Morales emerges from the back door of the grocer like a shot, headed straight into the scuffle without bothering to identify anyone other than the second tail that came to check on the first. At a full run she jumps to plant her shoe in the brick and then spring off of that, using her weight and the momentum to increase the strength behind the swing of her motorcycle helmet like an extension of her fist.

*

As Eddie bursts through the corner grocer, the ICER-wielding tail sprints across the street after her. They've clearly been made, so he doesn't want to lose his quarry now. The young man has to pull up to avoid becoming a victim of a classic prank as bananas and other fruit go scattering across the aisle ahead of him. He slams an angry hand into the nearest crate, picking his way past despite the barrage of insults and imprecations that come from the grocer. This is Gotham, after all, and the pursuer only has a pistol, not some crazy ice gun, an umbrella, or a gag-sized revolver.

In the alley, Roy has just met the second man at the corner of the street, extendable shock baton against escrima sticks in a crackling clatter of hard plastic and electrified steel, when he senses the female agent coming back for more. He has to duck and spin away, the motion smooth and almost effortless now that his reactions aren't dulled by one chemical additive or another. She comes out of her kick in a karate stance, and the two circle for a moment, studying each other for weaknesses. Tilting his head slightly, Roy notes off-hand, "You know, tailing a woman at night is totally sketchy. Probably not the best thing to do in this town." There's a moment's pause, "Even if you're a woman too. You've got really nice bone structure, you know that?"

The reason that the second male agent isn't double-teaming Roy while he banters, of course, is because he heard Eddie coming and turned back toward her just in time to get his hands up in front of him, taking the impact from the motorcycle helmet on his forearms instead of his chest or head. One or more of the fine bones there snaps, and he goes tumbling back onto his ass in the mouth of the alley, youthful features wide in surprise and pain. "Shit!"

*

Eddie takes a brief moment to look over her shoulder, her lips spreading wide in a grin when she recognizes the outfit - and perhaps the voice - of the person seemingly helping her.

She turns back to the man she's certain she at least wounded, this time instead of hitting him with her helmet she throws it at him with two hands like a basketball, taking the moment that he'll need to bat it away or reflexively try to catch it to follow through with a pair of gloved hands to grip at his shoulders. Her right leg swings around the back of his, and with a sharp rotation of her hips, she tosses him deeper into the alley.

*

The poor bastard has just gotten back to his feet when he's batting aside the helmet with his unhurt hand — and then flying backwards over Eddie's hip into the alley proper. He gives a yelp as he flies, doing his best to roll onto his feet again, but he's a little slow after the double impacts — and the sudden turn that the stalk has taken.

The other male agent finally gets out of the clutches of the grocer to come running out the back door of the corner store, ICER held close as he pounds toward the end of the alley behind Eddie.

Roy proves that his banter and flirting has a purpose, as the compliment seems to throw the woman he's facing off. He feints up high with one escrima stick and then steps close, sweeping down low with the other to trip the woman up and land her on her back. Glancing aside, he blinks as the other trailer comes flying into the alley, "Well that's unexpected. Usually my rescuees don't take the time to help out." He glances down at the woman at his feet starting to get up again, and gives a nice soccer kick to the side of the head, putting her out for the count. "I'm in favor of a woman who can kick ass, though." Evidently, he hasn't recognized Eddie yet. Then again, she hasn't been blathering on.

*

Tsk. Eddie doesn't BLATHER. She provides witty commentary and amusing insights that sometimes get off topic and become pointedly personal when they turn into sardonic quips. Blathering. As if.

She doesn't give the man she felled a bit of ground, pouncing on him to drive him back to the ground, pinning his arms beneath her knees as she delivers a sharp punch to his face. "Who sent you?" She's still confident that someone has been trying to kill her, and a three-person tail could easily be a part of that. This time she means to find answers. Right before she delivers another blow, she counters to Arsenal. "Sorry, Arse, I don't," SMACK. "Damsel well."

Her eyes flick up to the third tail coming into the alleyway, and should he shoot his sidearm, she's prepared to roll off to the side of her victim and drag him with so his back will take the bullet. Or ICER as the case may be.

*

The poor hurled and battered agent struggles under Eddie, "Ow, shit! Morales! Tiger! Tiger!" It's a code-word for 'SHIELD exercise.'

"Well then at least don't kick Arse," Roy quips back as he turns toward the incoming third. One escrima stick is launched, and if he doesn't have the uncanny spatial awareness of Daredevil, he's very good at what he does (when he's not high). The stick strikes the agent's hand, and he loses the ICER, the weapon clattering to the pavement and leaving the young man looking almost comically shocked. He's clearly the junior of the trio — what was he going to do with the ICER anyhow, attack a fellow agent?

Hefting the second stick, Roy snaps at the young man, "Buzz off, kid." Said young man looks to the two downed agents, gives Eddie a shocked and betrayed look, but then sinks down into a fighting stance. Too much testosterone — it's going around. Roy glances down to where Eddie straddles the man on the ground, and adds, "I'm almost jealous."

*

"Shit." SHIT. Eddie is pawing open the agent's jacket in short order, and not finding an identification readily, she just takes off a glove and grabs his clothing in a fistful to get the confirmation she needs. "Stand down." She's almost deaf to the quip about being jealous about her positioning, swinging off of her kneel and back to her feet to hold out her bare hand in capitulation to Arsenal while the other grips her glove. "Stand down." She repeats again, hoping her words can cut through his adrenaline enough that he understands what she's trying to say before he does any more damage to the trainees. "They're with me!" Well, sort of.

*

"Damn it, Wilkins!" That's a complaint from the young man facing off with Roy — and flinching as Roy feints an attack with his one remaining escrima stick — when the downed agent calls 'Tiger.' Clearly, he thinks they're going to fail the exercise (they probably are, but no one expects the Arsenal Inquisition).

The request from Eddie forestalls Roy from making the attack, however, and he glances over to her as she holds up the hand, "Wait… you know these guys?" Looking back to Wilkins, he demands, "What the hell were you doing stalking her through Gotham?"

*

"Knowing is sort of relative." Eddie comments as she takes a step back from Arsenal, still gauging whether or not he might lash out again. She must decide it's safe, because she turns around to offer her remaining gloved hand down to Wilkins and haul the half-busted man back to his feet by the hand she didn't happen to break. "Call for your exfil, and tell them to have medical on standby." She sighs and gives him a companion-like pat on the shoulder. "For what it's worth, I had you marked before we even crossed the bridge into Gotham."

She turns back to Roy, flicking a lock of hair out of her eyes before she works on getting her other glove back on. "Trainees with SHIELD." She explains. "They must have been on an exercise, which they FAILED by the way." This louder over her shoulder for the trio's benefit, though one is still unconscious. "Clean this mess up." Morales orders the recently shocked fellow, even if she currently pretty much is the same level as people still in the Academy.

*

"Well hell, now I almost feel bad." Roy glances over his shoulder to the downed woman. He eyes the two men, then moves over to pick up his thrown escrima stick — and the ICER. The pistol is hefted a moment, "An exercise, really?"

The angry young SHIELD trainee puts in, "We would've been fine if you'd stayed in New York like you were supposed to." 'Supposed to' according to their brief, at least. He scowls at Arsenal, "And what the hell were you doing? That's mine, by the way." Wilkins, at least, does seem to be calling in and checking on the unconscious woman.

Roy smiles broadly and perhaps a little maliciously at the angry trainee, holding the pistol out butt-first. "Oh yeah, what are you doing in Gotham, Morales?" He picked that up, even in the midst of the brawl. When the trainee reaches for the pistol, Roy flips it around the trigger guard so that he's holding the grip and pointing it at the poor man. He waggles his domino mask with his brows, chuckling a little at his joke before he flips it back around to let the poor guy take it and go help Wilkins. "Not that it isn't a wonderful city, of course. About the only thing it has that New York doesn't is Bats though. Well," his grin broadens, "Bats and me." And weird criminals and gothic and art deco architecture and lots of other things.

*

"Probably has non-lethal rounds. Night-night rounds." Eddie's explains of the gun as she shakes out her hands, trying to burn up the excess adrenaline spike from the little tussle as she moves to retrieve her helmet, gathering it up by the strap and wiping some refuse off the dome with a swipe of her hand before she sets it on top of a dumpster.

"Hey man, I'm off the clock. My business is my own." That's pretty much the last Morales acknowledges her alleged co-workers, stepping over the leg of the unconscious girl to address Roy.

"I was on a cigarette run." Eddie's grin is a bit lopsided as she explains a little further to Roy as she comes back over to face him. "So what is this your normal haunt? So you were only slumming it in NYC to see me, weren't you?" She too can be a shameless flirt, but hers comes with a dry delivery that almost sounds acid dipped. A hand drops into her pants pocket, coming out with a switchblade that's engaged with a little flick of her wrist and a telltale click. "Hold still." It's a directive she's given him before, but this one is accompanied by a gloved hand reaching out to press into his chest plate in the five pressure points of her fingers.

*

"Maybe I should've kept it then. That'd be handy for not pissing off the Bats." Given that Roy has a pistol of his own holstered at his right hip, he evidently cares more about staying alive than not pissing off the Bats. Watching the baby SHIELD agents go off to do their thing, he chuckles faintly, then gives a little sniff and frowns around behind him. Something smells nasty, and… oh crap, it's whatever he rolled his shoulder in. "Pretty long cigarette run," he says distractedly. And then she's close, and the blade is coming out. One hand snaps out to try and grasp the wrist of her knife-hand on pure reflex, then stops as the gloved hand presses five fingers into the dense, flexible material of his armor. "And yeah, I usually work Gotham, but I've gotta say, New York's a whole lot better for parties when you aren't rich as a Kane. Or a Wayne, or any of the other 'anes.'" Looking down to her fingers, and then the knife, he arches an eyebrow, "If you're gonna try to slip that into a soft spot in my defenses, I'm gonna be real disappointed." His voice warms from is amused lilt, his smile spreading broad across his face, "I thought that was my job."

*

Eddie's grin turns a bit wicked as he goes to grab for her wrist, not faulting him for the movement in the slightest, even if he doesn't follow through. "You have soft spots?" In the proximity it's hard to fully ogle him, but her head does tilt slightly so her eyes can do a quick tick downward and then back up. As he's no longer concerned with restraining the advancement of the knife, she merely takes a long inhale in and holds it as she carefully uses the tip to peel a bit of wilted vegetable matter off his shoulder and flick it away. No way was she going to touch that, even with gloves on. "I was enjoying the drive. So sue me." Comes the casual comment about how long her cigarette run was as she holds the blade up between them and folds it away.

*

"Not right now," comes the immediate riposte to her question about Roy's soft spots. Still, there's a little hesitation before he looses her wrist, and his tension grows as the knife comes up toward his throat… and cleans off the source of that vile smell. He relaxes then, nodding and letting his guard down a little more, "Wait, you actually liked driving through Jersey? You're totally not human, are you. You're like some temptress robot spy, right?"

*

"You know, that's the second time this week I've been accused of not being human. I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not." As is her habit, Eddie ignores anything remotely sounding like an actual comment, deflecting as always. She shrugs slightly as she takes a step backwards, her hand falling away from his chest and the knife tucked back away in its place. "I just got my bike back, and she needed a good run to keep her from locking up after I changed the oil. You live nearby, Stud?" It's a logical question, if these are his stomping grounds. "Or are you planning on wearing that get-up when I buy you a drink for the assist?"

*

"Nothing wrong with being superhuman, now is there? Don't get me wrong, human's plenty good for me. I think it'd feel like cheating to be more than that." At least Roy's claiming to be baseline — which he is. He rolls his shoulders a little as her hand drops away from his chest, as if he could still feel the pressure of her fingers there despite the armor between them. "Now why would I want SHIELD knowing where I live, Morales?" He glances over his shoulder a moment, then grins crookedly back at her, "I'm assuming that Illya's not your name, and Eddie's not either, but I'm guessing SHIELD at least has your name right." He takes a step back, "As for buyin' me a drink… why don't you get a bottle to go and I'll show you how a real vigilante enjoys a drink." There's a little challenge there, beneath the words.

*

"Didn't say there was anything wrong with it, just that that opinion's been running rampant lately." As he mentions his hesitation about letting her, an Agent, know where he lives, Eddie's eyes roll in her sockets. "As if I, or SHIELD, care where you live, Arsenal. Seriously, you're probably a teeny tiny blip on a very large radar right now." As to clarification of her name, she threatens an eye roll again, but stops just shy of it in case she's apt to sprain those muscles at this rate. "Eddie. Morales." She clarifies. Then quieter, "Are you really a Roy, or were we both just pretending to be something else the other night?"

The question is poised to the man as she turns to walk away, snagging her helmet off its perch on top of the dumpster. "Why do I feel like 'drinking like a vigilante' means we end up passing out on some rooftop again?" Which isn't a no.

*

"Well yeah. But I like being a teeny tiny blip on a large radar." Roy pauses a moment, "That sounded wrong." And then his smile is back, "Eddie Morales. Good. I was gonna be disappointed if you welched on a bet." One corner of his smile quirks up, and he shrugs all too lightly, "Well, you know that not everyone lies in clubs." He pauses, and his smile falters for a moment, "Well, I suppose most women who aren't looking to be bugged do, don't they?" Glancing behind him to where the SHIELD agents are taking their unconscious comrade somewhere to wait for medical, he looks back to Eddie and his grin returns, "And that depends entirely on how much booze you buy, Eddie. But I can tell you that Gotham rooftops are way better for drinking and passing out and other things on than New York rooftops."

*

"Why? Because they're so much warmer? Or because we're bound to be woken up by some over-the-top catastrophe that likely involves weapons that give a cartoon squeak right before they use lethal force." Eddie flips her helmet over her shoulder, holding it there by benefit of the strap and a crook of two fingers, leaving it to bang against her back as she moves to the opening of the alley. "Gimme ten to buy a bottle of whatever's cheap and a pack of smokes."

*

"You'll see," Roy assures her. He pauses then, considering, "Although you may be onto something about the cartoon squeak. Gotham villains are fucking weird." Her offer to buy causes him to consider for a moment, then sigh and shake his head, reaching into a pouch at his belt. He pulls out a narrow roll of small bills and offers them out, "You bought the last buzz, Eddie. I'll cover this one. Pretty sure you'll still be one ahead of me even after this."

*

Eddie turns at the corner, eyes dropping to his hand extending the bills. "Well don't you look ridiculous. Please tell me you're not one of those asshole guys who gets all uncomfortable about women buying shit. Next you're going to be insisting I can't open my own car door. In other words sentiment is appreciated, but I got this, big boy." Her voice echoes back as she steps into the street and off to the liquor store. "Don't be so basic."

*

"Naw, I just don't like owing someone," Roy may be getting a little huffy, his shoulders rolling a little, "And didn't you say you got a bike? Sounds like you don't need any doors opened for you." Still, he tucks the money away again. After all, it's not like she's going to take it, and he can't exactly follow her into the store in costume. So instead he just gives a casual two-fingered salute, then stands there in the alley for a moment. One minute passes, two, and he notes to himself, "She's totally not coming back, is she?" Still, although he draws out a line arrow, he remains, waiting through the booze and ciggies run.

*

Not coming back, now why didn't she think of that? But it's not like Eddie can get up to her old tricks, taking jobs in the private sector just to keep busy at times. Now she has SHIELD for that, but there is still down time. She promised ten minutes, but she returns in twelve, hopefully he didn't too twitchy hanging out in an alley in his full get-up.

A lit cigarette is already dangling from her lips as she comes back to the alleyway, the delay apparently from her doubling back to stash her helmet. A brown paper bag is cradled to her chest like a football, habit making her give a whistle as she steps into the shadows to find him again lest she end up with an arrow in her shoulder for her troubles.

*

Roy paced for six of those minutes, but managed to stop himself at nine minutes gone by, and at twelve he's still just standing there, so at least he doesn't embarrass himself that way. He is checking his watch when she whistles and comes around the corner, however. His left hand holds the line-arrow to the arc of his bow, and he looks up from checking the time like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Alrighty then." The brisk tone is an attempt to regain some vague control of the situation, "Now that you've tried to sweat me out, seeing if I'd still be here…" He draws back the arrow and launches it up at an angle toward one of the adjoining gothic buildings. Far above, the grapple arrow thunks into the concrete, and he opens up his right arm to her, "Better hold on tight, Eddie. If you've got the guts for it." Is he really going to carry them both up into the air with that single line?

*

Like a petulant child, Eddie throws up her head and stomps in his direction. "Oh. My. God. I didn't realize how cheesy you were. This is what I get for running into you sober." She tucks the brown-bagged bottle inside her jacket, zipping it up tight and rearranging her scarf to ensure it doesn't fall out during this unconventional travel. She eyes the arm for a second with a modicum of distrust and then steps into his embrace, hugging him tightly as instructed.

*

The cheesy usually helps when he's hitting on drunk women. Evidently, not so much when they're sober. "Maybe it was," he pauses there, crouching a little and then hitting the winder on his bow, which sends them zipping upward and swinging out at a high angle away from the depths of the alley. He grunts as both of their weights settle on his one arm and shoulder, his right hand grasped tight to the back of her belt through her jacket. The ascent is rapid though, rapid enough that when they whip past a gargoyle and he stops the reel, they actually keep going up for a heartbeat, achieve weightlessness, and then drop neatly down on top of the looming stone creature. Finally, he finishes what he had been about to say, "just an excuse to get my arm around you without you chickening out." Still, once they're atop the broad, flat back of the gargoyle, he looses her and steps back a touch, "And this is how a real Gotham vigilante drinks — watching the whole city," or at least a dozen or so blocks of the East End, "from on high."

*

Eddie always holds her breath during these things, hating that little drop at the end the worst. It's a control thing, and for that brief moment, gravity is what has it. Her knees bend in a slight crouch when she lands somewhat separate from Roy, quickly disentangling herself from the rest of his embrace shortly there after. "Watching the whole city until you're too bleary eyed to do anything about it. I'm familiar enough with Gotham though, did some work here. First time on a gargoyle though. Are you sure it's legal to brood up here without a mask?"

*

Roy looks pretty comfortable up on the gargoyle as he detaches the line from the arrow and tucks the arrow away in his quiver as well, then turns in a full circle, spreading his hands out to demonstrate the view of the skyline. "It's still a pretty good view though, isn't it? I mean, as long as you don't look down at the actual streets or homes or people who have shit to do." The question about brooding causes him to laugh readily, "Considering it's not legal to brood anywhere in Gotham with a mask anymore… I'm pretty sure we're just trespassing and damaging private property at the moment. Oh yeah, and breaking the vigilante laws, of course. If you want in on that, though, you'll have to pull up your collar to cover at least half of your face." He gives her a little wink at that.

*

"Or you could just lend me your mask." Eddie teases as she rolls up a bit of her scarf, not to obfuscate her identity but to keep the chill of the wind up here off her ears. As to the view, she at least gives him the courtesy of looking around before she proclaims, "Eh. I've seen better." But there might be the tease of a smirk playing at the corner of her lips as she says it to share the joke with him instead of just making it at his or Gotham's expense.

"So what dastardly deeds in the name of justice have been keeping you busy since our little…run-in at the bar." For whatever reason, Eddie isn't as closed off as she's been around the man, actually engaging in the standards of conversation instead of just falling back on pity little remarks. As she waits for him to answer, she unzips her leather coat partway to retrieve the bag she's scored from the liquor store, producing a small plastic bottle for them each this time so they don't have to pass back and forth.

*

"Hell, you've felt better." Roy's eyebrows waggle at her teasing comment, but then there's an actual question, and he starts to beckon for the booze — only to have a small bottle handed to him. He glances at the label briefly, then spins the cap off and lets it zip down into the air beneath them. The plastic bottle is lifted up toast-style, and he takes a slug, "Well, since if you arrest me, you're never getting down again, I cracked up a nice little nest of mafiosos the other night. Now, they'll be back on the streets in a couple of days if they aren't already, but I did manage to hear that Falcone is movin' up into New York — " he glances sidelong at her, " — tell all your friends."

*

"Mafiosos. How quaint." Eddie glances behind her, then reaches out a hand there to touch a concrete wing, following the curve of it with a skim of her palm as if she's petting the monstrosity. "And I could get down." She mentions with a brief glance over her shoulder to him. "I'm crafty like that. Now whether or not I'd be in the shit for requisitioning a heli extraction…Eh." A partial shrug.

With a little twist, she plops down against the wing, tugging her jacket to make sure none of her back is exposed as she settles against it and tucks her own bottle into the nest of her folded legs. "Falcone." She repeats the name. "I'll tell my handler. That's as close to a friend as I have."

*

Roy nods his agreement at the quaintness of the Mafia, "I know, right? A little taser arrow, a little knock-out-arrow, a little escrima sticks… out. I mean, even the Penguin is more entertaining," read as, 'more dangerous,' "than that." He scoffs at her suggestion, "That's getting up, not down, Eddie." Despite the scoffing, he crouches down, setting down his bottle on the gargoyle's shoulders, planting his hands on its neck, and extending his legs out to the sides, lowering himself down to straddle its neck with his feet kicking idly, "Well, tell all the other vigilantes you flirt with then. Not that I mind him dragging his Italian ass out of the city, but somehow I don't think he's running off with his tail between his legs."

*

"Maybe just moving a little more…sane." Eddie comments as she cranes her head to look down, muttering, "Sometimes you have to climb up if you want to get down." Amusing herself with something in that statement as she gives a little huff of laughter while she opens her own bottle. Her own cap is pocketed, and judging by the brevity by which the mouth of it is tipped towards her own, she's doing little more than wetting her whistle.

"You know, I should just conference call them all, make quicker work of spreading the news." There is a pause there, "Hey Roy?"

*

"I always like to go up before I go down," Roy admits with a crooked grin and a waggle of his masked eyebrows. He takes another slug of the booze, chuckling around the alcohol at her suggestion of conference calling. He swallows in the pause, and then locks his ankles around the neck of the gargoyle, hefting the bottle a moment before he responds, "Yeah, Eddie, I'll totally go to prom with you." More seriously, though, he gestures toward her, "Go on then, what's up?"

*

"Falcone is headed to New York." There, now she's theoretically told all the vigilantes she flirts with. She gives him a sardonic smile as she tilts her head back, digging into her pocket for her pack of cigarettes, seeming how her first one was interrupted by a grapple line trip.

"Now we're not even making sense with our innuendos." She comments around the waggle of the cigarette in her mouth before she puckers up to light it.

*

Roy looks confused for a moment, and then laughs, loud and readily. He could even be doing his best Errol Flynn from Adventures of Robin Hood. "Damn. You're either lying your ass off, or New York is way in need of more entertainment." He stops then, eyeing her for a moment, and then settles on, "I'm gonna assume New York just sucks." The way he says it, he's giving her a major benefit of the doubt. And then she challenges his innuendo skills, and he shakes his head, pointing at her chest, "Go up," and then down to her lap, "Before I go down. Perfectly simple."

*

"But that implies you started at my belly button, and that's just awkward." Eddie points out with a jab of her cigarette in his direction before she ashes it off to the side. "New York is what you make of it, I suppose. It can either be the glimmering jewel of the East Coast or a cesspool. But the same can be said of anywhere. It'll be the first time in years I've technically settled anywhere."

*

"Oh, you haven't heard about the trick with the cocktail olive?" Roy takes another drink from the plastic bottle, although despite the bravado of letting the cap fall, he seems to be sipping now rather than taking slugs, maintaining his new buzz like a pro. "And I'm pretty sure that unless you're above the 20th floor, all of Gotham is a cesspool." Still, he actually listens to her description of New York, nodding. The mention that she's settling for the first time causes him to chuckle, "Yeah… totally sucks having to be an adult and everything, doesn't it? How's it feel to actually have the same place to head home to two nights in a row?" Okay, so that might be a //little/ exaggeration.

*

"Uncomfortable. But then again, for the first time in a long time, I have someone - or rather a whole host of someones - watching my back while I sleep. Granted, being in a fortress helps." Eddie muses to the night air somewhere just above Roy's head so she doesn't quite have to make eye contact when she talks about her new home.

"You know what happens when you roll around in a cesspool, right? Because I can still totally smell you from over here." Eddie grins, snapping out of her thoughts about making a 'home' somewhere. It leaves her looking a little uncomfortable, enough so that she shifts her weight around as if her positioning on their gargoyle stoop is causing it.

*

"Yeah, nothin' like sleepin' on roofs with strangers," there might be a little longing in Roy's voice for the safety of having people watching his back at night — the rebel who wants a family but won't admit it responding to the rebel who is (at least for now) more comfortable without one. At her accusation, however, he lifts up one arm and gives a sniff under it, "Well, don't you get all sweaty when you grab someone pretty and hold them close?" One foot lashes out to kick the bottom of the wing she's lounging against, the impact utterly impossible to feel through the heavy stone, "Hey, don't worry, we'll always have 'sleeping on a roof with a stranger.'"

*

"That's true. It's a thing of the past. After all, we don't quite count as strangers anymore do we?" Eddie follows the line of his leg from where he kicked the gargoyle, traveling upwards until it lands on the jawline that gave him away. There's a clearing of her throat before she draws on her cigarette again, hard enough to make the cherry blaze an angry red. Twin trails of smoke leave her nostrils as she attempts a change in subject. "Man that get-up has got to be hot. I mean, are you just wallowing in your own ball sweat in that thing? If SHIELD ever starts an anti-vigilante campaign, I'm going to have that put on the posters. 'Don't take justice into your own hands, or you too will have swamp crack."

*

Roy grants her the first point with a negligent wave, taking up his plastic bottle to take another pull — only to choke on laughter at her suggested campaign. "Okay dragon-lady," two fingers gesture toward the two trails of smoke from her nose. "That's actually hilarious," he grants, "but that's really just for the amateurs. You get someone good to design it," he sounds particularly proud right there, "and it wicks and breathes like crazy. Lots of armor, no swamp crack." His grin spreads all the wider, "Plus, you don't get wedgies when you go zipping up an arrow-line, if you're good." Holding up one finger, he adds, "Double-plus, it does great things for your ass. If it's designed right."

*

"Chafed nipples? Athlete's foot? Maybe some unbearable acne because of your face mask glue? C'mon, you gotta give me something here if I'm going to pitch this propaganda. At the very least, regale me with the tale of the one time you got your zipper stuck on sensitive flesh. I mean, how long does it take you to put all that shit on, anyways? Otherwise why not run around in S.W.A.T. gear?" This is safer territory, and so she has no issue treading around in it. Eddie's words and questions apparently end when she takes another drink/drag combination of her vices at hand.

*

Roy shakes his head, "Nope, sorry. I mean, all newbie mistakes. You should've seen my first costume, it was an actual red hoodie." Instead of the fancy layered-armor, hooded leather jacket. Which is totally not a hoodie. "And I don't wear SWAT gear because 1) you can't move in it, and 2) this stuff makes my ass look great." Oh right, there were other questions there, even if they were mostly joking, "It's the people in the capes that have things hard. I tried on one once, and it was ridiculous. I kept getting it caught around my ankles — I even whipped myself in the face once. And it's way faster than you'd think to put on and get off." Beat pause, "Wait… that sounds wrong. It's not too fast."

*

"Uh-huh." Eddie responds wryly, as if she doesn't truly believe most of what Arsenal is saying. Her gloved thumb flicks the filter of her cigarette, knocking off a small column of ash. As it gradually gets smaller, she changes her grip on it, pinching it between forefinger and thumb instead of in the webbing of her fore and middle. "You know, you're really stuck on that whole way your ass looks thing. Some would even say you're fishing for a compliment with that."

*

"Naw, I'm secure in myself. I just wanted to point it out in case you hadn't noticed yet." Not that she can exactly see anything about Roy's ass with him straddling the head of the gargoyle. "Plus, it makes me feel good." Tilting his head to the side, he inquires, "So… is there a SHIELD agent uniform? I haven't actually ever noticed. Or is it suits and shades? I mean, women look awesome in suits, so that's not a problem. I mean, it could definitely be worse, like blue and white spandex."

*

"I think I noticed. In fact, I think I had a handful of it in the bathroom stall at one point." Eddie snorts, grinding out her cigarette onto the stone of the gargoyle and flicking the refuse over the side of the building where it twirls in the wind on its descent. "We ladies in the steno-pool tend to lean towards business casual. You know, kakis and matching sweater sets. The key is the low heel. Just enough to not look dowdy but still be comfortable for an eight hour day at the keyboard. If we really want to go wild, we wear jeans on Friday and hit the Applebees happy hour." Of course that ruse is kind of hard to keep up, seeming how she had trainees use her as a mark which she then defended herself against with nothing more than her moto helmet.

*

"Steno-pool my ass, Eddie." Roy chuckles through the comment, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure you'd spontaneously combust if you had to wear khakis and a matching sweater set." There's a moment's pause, "I believe the low heel though. Mostly because you wanna be able to run and kick ass." Another swallow of booze goes down his hatch, and then he chuckles, "No, I think you're gonna be going with 'whatever the hell you want' outside the office, and 'just as casual as you can get away with' inside the office." But he doesn't know her or anything. Apparently tired of straddling the gargoyle's head where he can't look out over the city, he shifts around, up-nodding to her, "Shove over." Not that she needs to move far to let him lean back against the other wing of the gargoyle, but if she wants to leave room to not touch shoulders with her, she's going to have to squeeze. "So where'd you learn to fight? Because I'm pretty sure there isn't any martial art that teaches you how to hit someone with a motorcycle helmet."

*

"More or less." Eddie tells him of how she dresses for SHIELD. "I've been known to rock a suit on occasion though, depending on the situation. You dress for the job and let's just say I've done some really strange jobs."

"I was, uh." With a grunt of acknowledgment to his request, Eddie slides her hips over about a half of a foot and then pulls her legs over. Instead of just keeping them folded, she tents them and hugs an arm tight to keep herself in a bit of a ball. "I was pretty much raised by SHIELD. Sponsored boarding school and then the Academy. And I hope you know, now I have to get you black out drunk so you forget this conversation."

*

Roy shifts a moment to get his quiver and the sword alongside it into a comfortable place to lean back against, keeping his bow in his left hand — probably a smart idea considering that they're six stories up over concrete and it's the only thing he has to stop himself if he falls. "I always heard that you should dress for the job you want." Says the man wearing a red armored hoodie and a mask. The mention of her background causes him to grunt thoughtfully, nodding, "Sounds different. Me, I grew up on the res in Arizona. And now you don't have to get me black-out drunk, because you've got something on me in case I blab." Beat pause, "You know, besides knowing my name and my face. So you grew up around other kids who were gonna be agents? Best and the brightest and all that?" You know, like Cyborg, Nightwing, The Flash, and Starfire, "Bet that was a pain in the ass."

*

Eddie draws away from him slightly at that bit of truth, if only so she can eye him better like he's telling a tall tale that she isn't buying. "You don't look…like you grew up on a Reservation. But that's probably racist or something." She doesn't contemplate it much more than that, as she finally takes a larger pull off her bottle.

"It was something like that. As you can imagine, I wasn't really the popular kid, so I mostly was on my own outside of class. In fact, I think my jacket just has big red letters on the front that says 'Doesn't Play Well With Others.'" Her hand arcs across the empty space in front of them as if emblazoning the air with the words.

*

"Oh no, I'm white as fuck," Roy admits cheerfully. "My dad was a park ranger nearby. When he died, I was adopted." Taking another pull of his booze, he snort-chuckles at her explanation, "Yeah, no, sorry Eddie." He points from her chest up to her forehead, "It's right on your forehead. Tattooed. Like in that book… uh…" Roy read a book once. A couple of times. "Snowcrash." It was the description of the minigun named 'Reason' that sold him on that one. "So you're trying to turn over a new leaf and play well with others now? And instead you're beating the snot out of trainees?" The teasing grin is intended to take any sting out of those words.

*

And that's what Eddie takes away from that, not that she hasn't read the book much less get the reference, but that, "You read?" She makes a noise that sounds like a scoffing bit of laughter.

"It's a means to an end, my friend. A means to an end. Speaking of, I probably need to get back so I can file the report. The paperwork is most definitely not something I've missed." She takes one more slug off the bottle before fishing for the cap. "Which means you've got to get me down from here, stud." Closing up her alcoholic treasure, she tucks it back into her jacket and looks at him expectantly.

*

"Yeah, I read," Roy grumps. Sure, he reads Goodnight Moon and chapter books more often than novels these days, but that's not his fault. Well, it's only half his fault. "You think you learn how to make trick arrows without reading a book or three?" And then he shrugs a little awkwardly, "Some of the Titans were kind of nerds. In a good way." Sighing heavily, he looks down at the little bit of booze left in the plastic bottle, then slugs down the last of it, grimacing as he does. Probably a little more than he wanted a little faster than he wanted, but oh well. Looking down, he drops the empty down toward a dumpster in the alley. It sways back and forth in the wind, and then lands just inside the dumpster six stories below. "Hah!" And then he eyes Eddie sidelong, "Sure, sure. I can get you down." His brows waggle once more, and he pulls himself to his feet almost perfectly steadily, pulling out another arrow line and launching it quickly and smoothly across the street into a building half a block away. "Ready to Return of the Jedi it up?" He pauses, "No, I take that back. They were brother and sister." He offers down a hand to help her up, and then gets ready to swing across the street and down to the ground again.

*

For once Eddie takes the offered hand, tugging against it to help her back to her feet. "Titans, huh?" She adds that to the growing mental file she's undoubtedly keeping on Roy, if only she could keep it so segregated in her mind as to 'just business' but she's hanging around with him even before she was officially part of the Company.

On her feet she doesn't immediately step into him and an inevitable embrace. Instead Morales just looks at him for a hard moment and whatever she was about to say gets waylaid by a different notion, almost like a light switch being flipped. "What are you, twelve?"

*

"Yeah. You didn't know? Founding member." Roy feels pretty safe saying that, considering that Arsenal's former affiliation is pretty publicly known, at this point. Plus, he's a lot less guarded with a little bottle of booze in his bloodstream, and around Eddie. The pause and the question causes Roy to frown, "Huh? No, like I said, some of the Titans were pretty seriously geeky." Well, he actually said nerdy, but… "And no, I'm closer to thirty than twenty… a whole lot." Two years, actually, even if it feels like a lot more when Lian is crying and it's late at night. "Why?" Now he sounds a little wary, where he didn't when he was feeding her intel, "How old did you think I was? First I get accused of being sexist, now of being twelve…"

*

"I haven't run your aliases." Eddie says casually, but there is a hint of inner admonishment there, that she hasn't collected all she can possibly know about him from her new posting if only to know who she's keeping time with. Heaven forbid she actually has to use any of that information and not have it. "Star Wars references, innuendo that needs some serious help…I was just doing the mental calculations, and that's as old as I could come up with." There is a grin, if a bit forced, before she's making a c'mere motion so they can hug this thing out. Or use the arrow line.

*

"Well that's just a waste of resources, isn't it?" And then Roy's shifting his feet a moment, "There's nothin' wrong with Star Wars — oh shit, I sound like," he swallows real names, "Flash and Cyborg, don't I?" He smacks his forehead with the palm of his free hand, then wraps his arm around her waist as she gestures him onward, "And I still say that was great innuendo, you just overthought it." And with that, he's dropping backwards off the gargoyle, holding her close to fall along with him. This time instead of a nearly-straight ascent, it's a long, ever-quickening arc that takes them down into another alley on the other side of the street. "Which tells me that it's been way too long. For you."

*

Eddie held her breath again, she didn't realize it until their boots are back on the ground and the last of it leaves her lungs in a huff. She barely has time to recover from the long swing before he's saying those words and her gaze snaps up to lock onto his. There is a flash of warning held within them, matching the one that flows without humor from her voice as she gives his chest plate a little push to separate them. "Tread carefully, Arsenal." Back on the ground, she uses his masked name, this time with more ice than ever before. "Don't mock what you can't possibly understand."

*

Roy doesn't try to hold on, stepping back with the push and holding up his hands as he sends the line retracting up into the arrow again, whipping out of the alley. "Hey, sorry. I took it a step too far." That's all pretty much pro-forma, and then he retracts the arms of the bow, tucking it alongside his quiver behind him, spreading his arms out again. "I'm sorry, Eddie." That's a little more heartfelt. Actually he's pretty good at the heartfelt apology. "My mouth ran away with me, no excuse."

*

Eddie holds up a gloved finger, "Don't. Just…don't. Okay? Don't." She turns away from him, letting her hand fall away in 'whatever' gesture. Her head shakes as if trying to free of it cobwebs, altitude sickness, booze or all of the above as she shoves her hands into her pockets. Head bent, she steps out into the street.

*

And that was going so well. Roy watches Eddie go, frowning a bit, then shrugs to himself. "Don't-ing." Now he really wants another pull from the bottle, feeling the booze bubbling in his bloodstream. "Enjoy the trip back." And then he's turning back in the other direction of the alley, striding off in that direction.

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