2013.03.14 - Offer of Protection

So, it is late in the evening, after news broke about the murder in Detroit. Jocelyn, having assumed a cover identity because, well, she had a lot of identifying traits, had gathered up some cash and a few useful things, and made her way to the harbor. She had a plan for disappearing, and she needed the harbor for her plan. She was having a quick meal at a somewhat seedy-looking dockside restaurant, if you could call it that. One of those that is really a seafood shack with a couple barstools and a counter. She knew the types who hung out here, and she'd gotten some useful information from them. Some of her contacts had provided a bit of it, even. She's adopted that sort of air around her that most people would read as not wanting to be bothered, and it being a bad idea to bother her.

One thing that isn't so easily masked is height. Mystique should know, she's the mistress of disguise. Of course, for her it's of no effort at all to adjust her height. Change her gender. Grow a two month old beard in the span of half a second. Enter Fred, the two hundred and twenty-pound (by appearance, at least) fisherman who's edging into his early 50's. Worn jeans, scruffy leather boots, black and red flannel shirt, trucker hat over dark hair that looks as though it could benefit from a good washing. He looks like he belongs in a place like this, whether stuffing his face with fish tacos or passed out on the floor from a late night bender.

Lucky for the younger wayward mutant, she's the one that he takes a closer seat to. He automatically looks up to the chalkboard menu, appearing deep in thought over what manner of fish product is going to invade his stomach tonight.

Fred doesn't bother making eye contact when he speaks. "You look like a lady who's gearing up to run."

Jocelyn takes a bite of her fish, not bothering to make eye contact. Fred was one of those guys who seemed like someone who'd like to do some things she'd rather not do. A trained eye might notice a very slight shift in her posture indicating a little bit of defensiveness, but it's subtle. "Everyone got somethin' they want to avoid," Jocelyn replies. "And I like the fish here". A shrug is given as she continues her meal. She figures that if she gives an indifferent approach to his observation, he'll just go back to figuring out what he wants to eat. Of course, she is keeping an eye on him in certain ways, but she's not making that obvious. And while she can't hide her height, there are other women in the world who are tall. They're just not common. Women, on the whole, had been trending taller in overheight over the last decade or two.

Fred chuckles faintly, the tone more dry than full of good cheer. "This is New York, lady. If you can't find a better joint for seafood then you aren't looking hard enough. Places like this come complete with guys like me, which you don't seem all that fond of."

A city like this also has other perks. Information networks. Trackers. Psychics. Mystique hates being wrong. That's why she isn't.

"Now, maybe it's none of my business," Fred continues while leaning forward on the counter with arms folded together, "but I've been around the block a couple of times. I know what it's like trying to run away from your troubles. Know what it brings?"

As a glass of water gets set in front of him he pauses to take a drink, the waiter vanishing just as quickly. He doesn't seem to want any part of whatever's happening between these two.

As the glass returns to the worn counter, Fred continues. "More trouble. Your problems stay behind, then they multiply. You get caught up in trouble somewhere else and run from it again. Before you know it you've got nowhere left to run to. The world ain't as big a place as people like to think it is."

"It's all about bang for your buck," Jocelyn replies when Fred talks about the seafood. She continues to eat while Fred talks, listening to the man's word carefully, though continuing to put on a front of being relaxed. Guys like this tended to be a bit full of hot air, at least if someone could spot them. Granted, he might have buddies, though Jocelyn wasn't picked up on anybody else nearby with her own abilities.

"Might be at that. But it might be that trouble has to get dealt with, and you can't deal with it where you're at," Jocelyn responds, taking a drink of her own water. "Or it might be that the solution to the trouble is to try somewhere new. Besides, this is New York. Why you so interested in if I'm runnin' away from home?" she asks. Because really, that'd be what most might identify her has, some kid running away from home.

"You want bang for your buck, hit up a McDonald's," Fred says with a light sneer.

"Look. You don't trust me. That's smart of you. Don't trust anyone. Life's a lot easier to take. Take me, for instance," Fred says while finally turning just enough so that he's able to look at you. "Things aren't always what they seem, but I don't need to remind you of that."

When he smiles there's a set of pointed fangs in his mouth. Definitely not normal.

"I can also tell you that problems can be a lot easier to handle when you don't have to take them on alone. There's people out there willing to cover your back, just for being what you are. You shouldn't shut them all out. Could be they might save your life some day," he trails off while turning back to the counter, glass in hand.

"Could be I might even know of such a group that'd be happy to have one more."

"Marginal nutritional value beats zero nutritional value any day," Jocelyn points out with a smirk as she eats her fish. She didn't have a high opinion of the fast food chain at all, no. But, that wouldn't be surprising to anyone who knows her.

Letting the man talk, Jocelyn casually glances over, taking note of the fangs. Well, those were creepy. She's kind of hoping that vampires are also not real. Of course, it's the little tiny ping of energy that really catches her eye, and she raises her eyebrows slightly. Fred may notice the timing as being suspicious, of course. "Might want to see a dentist about that. Besides, what would a group like that want like want with someone like me?" Jocelyn asks. "Just a kid, I don't bring nothin' except the need for a nanny, you know?" She may have already clued in to the basics of what this man was offering. If she was planning on taking it, that was still up in the air. He hadn't really told her much of use yet, except they'd cover her back. But no group with people like this guy were there just to watch each other. They had an agenda, and she wanted some clue of what they were offering.

"Got your interest now, at least," Fred says with a soft chuckle. "Easier to show something subtle than if I sprouted wings and a tail. Tends to make people a might edgy."

Time for the sales pitch. "Listen, kid. You can dance around the issue all night but I know what you are. Same thing that I am. Same thing that everyone else in this family is. We look out for our own. You got trouble knockin' on your door, we're there to take care of it. You go running, you're on your own. They'll find you. Always do."

Another pause, another drink. The water isn't exactly friendly on the ol' tastebuds but it gives his words a chance to settle in. "I'm not trying to buy your trust, but given time I wouldn't mind gaining some acceptance. Sure you're no stranger to that, either. Not changing your options, though perhaps now there's a bit more weight on each choice than there was before. There should be. Don't treat running away lightly, it's a big deal."

A shapeshifter. Well, that would explain how Jocelyn's clever disguise was seen through! "Maybe you're right," Jocelyn says, taking a sip of her water. "Maybe I've already been bitten by running off. But that's somethin' I need to go fix. Clean that mess up before it gets any worse," Jocelyn tells Fred.

Another sip of her water. "Ain't something I'm going to bring someone else in on though. I don't know you. You're right, I don't trust you, and you shouldn't trust me either. Maybe we can talk sometime after I've done what I need to do to finish learning that lesson". She takes another bite of her fish, finishing the plate off. "And maybe I need to learn that lesson on my own. You make a mess, you get to clean it up. Thought I learned that once". She pauses. "Looks like I get to go learn it again".

"Running back to take care of old business isn't running away, either," Fred says, his voice not once rising above a low murmur. "You want to tackle your demons alone, that's your call to make. If you get over your head, you can always choose to make another call."

With that, Fred slides a business card across the table toward you. It says, quite literally, 'That creepy fisherman' along with the name of the eatery they both currently inhabit, and a phone number. Your power would likely have picked up another flare of energy just before he retrieves the card from his pocket, as well. It hadn't been there a moment ago. It had just now been constructed, right off of the metamorph's skin.

"Good luck with your problem, though don't forget about us weirdos out in the Big Apple. Might be we all have a little something to offer one another. Might be that I'd ask for -your- help in the coming days."

After all, this mutant has a foreign country to invade.

Jocelyn takes the card with a nod, glancing at it and slipping it into her pocket. Well, at least it had nothing electronic to track it, from what she could tell. Especially if it was created off this man's skin. "Fair's fair. I'll let you know if I'm interested, once things are settled". She finishes her water and stands. "Catch you around. Might be I'm back here again some day". And with that she starts walking away. She doesn't bother to look behind her to see if Fred is following or preparing some sort of crazy attack. He had his shot already, and didn't take it. She'd guessed he wasn't trying to hurt her. Just recruit her for something. But, she wasn't interested in that right now.

This mutant had her own demons to fight.