|Lost and Found: Steven|
|What: Marc is often not himself, but for some reason it's worse than usual|
Moon Knight is still in the upper story of the skyscraper where Jack left him. Jack had already determined where he lived, even if he hadn't guessed his identity.. Kilroy probably could have found out the same if not more anyways since Moon had been carrying the spare change Kilroy suggested.
Jack was instrumental in bypassing the locks and such to get the cab driver into the financier's home, and then rather uncertainly made his way into a side room with a very stern faced stone statue with a nervous, "Wish me luck; this isn't usually my job." that was before the episode with the pit fights.. if any news was gleaned, surely it would have been by now.
The cat is carefully stashed at Jack's place...with everything breakable removed, pillows, tuna and her meds. The citywalker's fairly confident she won't wake up from her nap any time soon anyway. He's not sure what to do with her...he can't abandon her, but he's not equipped, he knows, to look after somebody who's basically a child. Then, he returns to the skyscraper, stepping out of the wall back into the man's home.
Kilroy helps Jack shore the place up by strengthening the inside of the walls ceiling and floors with stone. He follows Jack and ends up where Moon is.
What Jack and Kilroy find is rather different from when Jack left; Moon Knight is no longer closed up in the dark room with the enigmatic statue, he's talking over a blue tooth phone while typing on a computer industriously. Kilroy can likely feel the money moving; There's a lot of work to catch up on and he seems so absorbed in it that he nearly walks into them when he goes for some paperwork, looking between them in shock.
...which isn't normal behavior. "I think he switched again on us," Jack says to Kilroy. And this is...personality number four. The one he hasn't really, properly met. Hopefully he won't freak out too much.
Kilroy has spent time in Wonderland. There isn't really a 'normal' for him anymore. "It happens. Name is Kilroy. Pleased to meet you. And you are?"
Steven Grant, current owner of that money in his pocket and indeed this building nods with slight hesitation..? He's on hold, so he pauses the blue tooth call and answers, "Yes... Conneticut, wasn't it? I remember you from your masquerade.. I'm glad to see you looking well." he offers his hand, though he says, "Though I have to say, I wasn't expecting you or your friend..?"
His manner is friendly, but obviously off-put by their sudden appearance.
"Great." Jack asides to Kilroy. "Jake said they weren't communicating properly." Then back to Steven. "This is rather awkward, but I promise, I'm a friend." A good one, in fact.
Kilroy says, "Ah...that was you there. I am well, much better since father was locked up. And I check frequently. We came to see how you are doing, to make sure that all was well after the Sentinels. It looks like you are fine ...how is Jake and the others?"
Steven is paying very serious attention after their comments. "I'm... afraid I don't know what you mean about the Sentinels, though personally I don't approve of the latitude they are being afforded lately. But, Jake..? Did someone named Jake send you here for something?" he asks, not yet giving anything away, though he has to be wondering. His expression doesn't have the frank confusion of before any more.
Definitely a different personality. "Alright. My name's Jack Hawksmoor. And I'm a friend of Jake's. And Marc's." He doesn't mention Moon Knight. He's not sure Moon Knight has friends.
Kilroy says, "Jake asked me to make sure he got something very precious from someone who had left it to him. I wanted ot make sure that he got it." He respects others secrets, even if he is fairly sure that something is going on."
Steven nods slowly, but even if he's nervous, he smiles, and takes this in stride. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hawksmoor. And any friend of his is a friend of mine. You're looking for something, then?" he looks between them?
"Something Jake gave to somebody for safe keeping. He was asking..." Jack casually indicates the door to the shrine with a finger. He doesn't assume anything, but anyone who, say, had the room bugged? NO clues that Steven and Jake share a body.
Steven looks to where Jack was pointing, and his eyebrows raise slightly. "..You...were in here before with Jake? Earlier today?" he asks.
Kilroy says, "He's carrying the same change. I'm pretty sure its him Jack. Tell him where to find it if you know."
Jack Hawksmoor nods. "Don't worry. I can be trusted." He considers that. "Not sure what to offer as proof of that, except that I AM a private detective. And a good one."
Steven..nods again. "I'm.. coming to see that. ..Or at least, that it may be a little late to keep up pretenses. It hasn't been this bad for us in years, but if Jake had learnt anything important, maybe.." he checks his own pocket, and pulls out a small unmarked book. He flips it backwards to the last page with writing on it, and looks up curiously? "Does Genevieve Zavia mean anything to either of you?" he wonders.
Kilroy points to Jack and smiles.
"Aha. Genevieve has it." He grins at Kilroy. "He must have given it to her to use in that tracking spell. I'll go knock on her door, unless you want to."
Steven only now reaches to his neck as Jake had done before. "..Oh." he says, in sudden comprehension. He does remember from before things got strange that Marc was on about something like that.
Kilroy says, "I must go, but it was good seeing both of you. Have an excellent night." He begins to hover."
Jack Hawksmoor nods. "Take care, Kilroy. I'll go swing by Genevieve's place. Or I can just give you the address, Steven? Write it down so that one of the others can go get it?"
Steven nods, smiling ruefully. "Yes, I..think I'd better write it down." he gets out the little book again but says, "Thank you, both of you. I realize I barely know you, but this means a lot to us." now that he realizes what was wrong.
Jack rattles off the address. Then he nods. "As it happens, I owe you...and I still owe you, because I didn't get to rescue you this time." He grins. "Jake *told* me what your current problem is."
Steven blinks, and then laughs, shaking his head. "Y-you know, then? I must have seemed pretty needlessly reticent, in that case! My apologies." he smiles warmly, in any case. "I don't know what the others did for you, but I can see they were lucky enough to get a very good friend. I'm sure they'll tell you so themselves once we're back to normal." Steven dutifully writes the address down.
Jack Hawksmoor laughs. "It's fine. I know you try to keep on the downlow." A pause, then, "Oh, they just rescued me from Hell. Long story. Okay...I need to go. I have an escaped slave in my back room who's likely to trash the place if I'm not there when she wakes up." Poor Steven. He doesn't know how weird knowing Jack is. Yet. With that, the citywalker turns and leaves. For once, he uses the door.
Evening is falling again as Michael Carpenter works to improve the city..and on this evening, not by smiting and killing, but by building up with his hands, with creating. The young father who he helped save was happy to see him as always, and has no qualms leaving Michael in keeping of the place when he himself has to leave. There was one piece of furniture cracked that he didn't realize before, but even if it wasn't entirely broken, it would soon have without attention. This place will be even better than it was by the time he's done, and that's something to be proud of. But as he's finishing up he might pick up a familiar presence.. one, in fact, he first met here, and then was properly introduced to yet another time after a trip to hell.
Sweat soaks the handkerchief in Michael's hands as he stands up from fixing one the pews, and he puts both hands on his hips as he arches his back. "I'm almost done here, Father Pierce," he tells the young priest ministering to this particular parish. The older man turns his head to the side and gives the nervous younger man an encouraging smile. "I don't think you need to worry anymore," he offers in that tone of voice he uses when stating simple facts: gentle, yet firm. Confident, yet calm. "The Lord is watching - and... a friend tells me the City likes this place too."
"I... really wish I knew what to say," Father Pierce remarks as he surveys his newly-rebuilt church. "After all that's happened... How do I thank you?"
Michael smiles again. "You don't," he tells the man kindly. "Thank the Lord, and His -- " A frown creases his brow, to match the puzzled half-smirk on his lips as he reaches up to the back of his neck with a hand, and rubs at the muscles there. "Mysterious ways, yeah..." Michael's voice trails off as he senses someone's approach, and he walks toward the doors of the church.
"Speaking of 'mysterious'..."
There's a man there, on the street. Brown hair, nondescript face, looking around with a hopefully bewildered sort of expression and a step marked by bouts of determination laced with intermittent uncertainty. He's dressed in subtly bedraggled tan pants and a white dress shirt, no jacket or tie to speak of. It looks like there might have been a half-hearted attempt to slick back his slightly wavy hair that really isn't sticking in the breezy byway. And at this distance, Michael can be fairly sure that familiar sense is coming from him.
Michael looks confused.
He stands there in the entrance to the little parish - a parish that has seen more than its fair share of toil and trouble in this city of late - dressed in work-jeans, a checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and boots... watching the newcomer standing in the street. Folding his left arm over his chest, Michael rests his right elbow on it, and massages at his jaw as his keen blue eyes study the features of the man several yards away from him.
He does not recognize the man's face.
There is no denying the 'sense' of him, nonetheless.
"Can I help you?" he calls out to the man as he takes a few steps out of the church, and down the steps to the sidewalk.
When the man turns to face him fully at being addressed, Michael can see he also holding a small unmarked notebook with his thumb of one hand pressed inside to hold the spot. He smiles in an affable sort of way and steps over to Michael, looking over the church.
Understandable, as the stained glass especially looks lovely in the setting sunlight. "I'm afraid I'm a little lost." the man admits with a rueful smile. "I don't suppose you might know where this might be?" he holds out the book, where there is a name, Genevieve Zavia written in one handwriting, and an address below it written in another. It's definitely a major down town address, and the apartment number on it is a high number, implying over thirty stories to the building in question. His voice may even sound familiar.. if one was looking for it, and allowing for the much more personable tone.
Michael's frown deepens.
Now, he is positively intrigued - and a little concerned.
Looking over the address as it is shown to him, he glances sidelong at the other man - staring for just a few moments past the point of 'too long' - and then lifts his attention toward the city. "You're not far from where you're meant to be," he tells the man as he motions a hand in one direction down the street, then he looks back toward him more fully. "You're not planning on walking there, are you? If you need a lift, I can drive you..." Michael motions with his chin toward his truck - rather, a 4X4 Ute - parked outside the church.
He frowns again.
That prickling sensation at the back of his neck - generally a manifestation of the vibe he gets around sources of supernatural power - simply will not go away. He rubs at his neck again, peering at the other man's face all over again. "I'm... Michael," he adds after a moment's hesitation. "...Have we met?"
The other man's smile brightens at the introduction, and he offers to shake Michael's hand with a smooth and firm grip..and not so much as a flicker of recognition. "My name's Steven." he answers, "And thank you for the tip. I'm terrible with directions.." he chuckles in good humor, despite his being somewhat off course. "Oh, I wouldn't want to put you to any more trouble. Thanks to you, at least I'm pointed the right way, anyhow."
"No, I don't think so," comes Michael's response before he can stop himself from speaking. He is already shaking his head at the other man - 'Steven' - before he realizes what he is doing. And how it must look. Perhaps they have not met. Perhaps there is nothing to this meeting than meets the eye. Perhaps that feeling - to the contrary - is just a feeling? Michael 'hmphs' very softly. He knows better than that.
Stepping back a little, Michael reaches up to itch idly at the beard on his chin, blinking his eyes as he wonders at his own choice of words a mere moment ago. "I'm sorry... I'm not sure why I said that..." That feeling will not go away, and now it is proving all too distracting to the carpenter. "'Steven', isn't it? Steven..." He speaks the name as if he were tasting it like a wine. "It's really no trouble," he assures the man beside him, and then waves back toward the church. "I'm just about done here anyway - the place has... hmph, seen some excitement. Lord knows..."
He falls silent and gives Steven an honest, open smile.
"It's a fair way," he remarks simply. "You don't have to walk it alone."
Steven wonders, "You don't think what?" in puzzled response to Michael's initial reaction. He nods at the question to his name, and sighs with a chuckle. "Steven Grant, if that's any help. You look confused." he hesitates, and finally nods to Michael's offer. "..Thank you. Honestly, some company right now would be welcome."
A frown creases Michael's brow as he starts toward his truck, motioning with a hand for Steven Grant to follow. He takes some moments in replying to Grant's question - and it is a fair question. Why did he, after all, respond with something as ambiguous as 'I don't think so?' His frown deepens as he reaches inside his pocket for his car-keys, and he hesitates just before unlocking the front passenger-side door for Grant.
"Steven Grant?" he asks again, as much of himself as of the man going by that name. He pulls open the door for his new acquaintance, and walks around the front of the truck to his side. No central-locking or anything fancy on this machine - in deference to certain other friend. "Have you ever been here before?" he adds a moment or so later, leaning with his elbow atop the car roof, pausing before climbing inside. "To this church, maybe?"
Steven Grant nods, though he's starting to show uncertainty now that there wasn't a hint of when he first greeted Michael. "Yes..that's me." he affirms, and if he's lying, he's amazingly good at it. He climbs up into the passenger side, and shakes his head at Michael's question. "Oh, did you think you knew me from church? ..I'm sorry, no. The service I attend is..pretty small." he offers with an apologetic smile, and only a slight pause to suggest he might mean anything out of the ordinary by his statement.
Steven does glance back through the truck windows though look at the church, that second look uncertainty resurfacing again. "..What was it you said happened here?"
Michael gives a little shake of his head and peers back at Grant. His lips tighten as he ponders his explanation of those two words - not to mention Grant's reply regarding his name - and he places both his hands upon the roof of his truck. He releases a breath. "Too much for a little church like this: forces of darkness fell upon it with a vengeance - more than once. It was vandalized - desecrated, violated - " his lip twists with that last word, " - until we stopped it, thank God." His tone is completely serious, and his eyes focus upon Grant as if gauging the other man's reaction to what the carpenter has just said - even if he has left out many of the specific, 'otherworldly' details.
"There was a friend there..." he explains. "You remind me of him." And he opens his car door.
Steven Grant listens to Michael's answer closely, and his expression soon shades with sympathy as Michael lists the trials the sacred place was put through. With the quiet attention, a faint scar over Steven's left eye may be discernible. Steven wonders, "How did you fund the repairs?" though as Michael explains the final part, Steven pauses, smiling a bit tentatively. "Oh, from the intervention?" he seems like he's debating asking, but finally asks in a tone perhaps a little too casual after his otherwise frank and honest replies, "What was his name?"
Michael draws in a breath and shifts the position of his hands upon the truck, so that only his fingertips cling lightly to the upper edge of the driver's side door. For a moment, everything is still as his lips faintly move in a silent prayer. Power vibrates through the ground beneath his feet, and through his fingertips: a subtle vibration unseen, unheard, unfelt - except by those attuned to such energies.
A tiny half-smile tugs at the left side of his mouth.
"The repairs?" he murmurs, albeit easily loud enough for Grant's ears. "...The city pitched in." How to describe exactly how that happened... would be an interesting topic indeed. "As for my friend..."
"His name is Marc."
As Michael summons the quiet but powerful current of energy, up through the ground, through his body, through the truck, Steven's head visibly cants, and his eyes dart about briefly before fixing on Michael in an expression of surprise..and perhaps understanding.
"You mean Hawksmoor." he answers in quiet realization, when the repairs are mentioned, and then swallows at mention of the other name. "You know Marc." he repeats. And then laughs quietly, shaking his head.. "Then I suppose I'll have to trust you. All of his friends seem to be appearing today."
Michael should not be surprised.
He should have expected this.
He should have expected that his friend, Marc - Moon Knight - would be involved, that Jack Hawksmoor would be familiar to this man here, given how familiar Steven Grant has been since Michael first sensed his approach. He should have seen such revelations coming. And yet...
He is still surprised, on some level. His salt-and-pepper eyebrows shoot upward; his eyes widen - at both the mention of Hawksmoor and Moon Knight - and he finds himself tilting his head upward a fraction, to peer at 'Steven Grant' as though from a 'broader perspective'.
The other part of him - the part that believes all things are possible, and is thus less surprised at such moments as this - gives silent thanks to his God. "I think we should talk," he tells Grant - and then ducks inside the truck, pulling the door closed behind him. He waits for Grant to do the same. "Something tells me this isn't a tale for most ears to hear," he adds. "We can talk on the way."
Grant pulls the heavy door of the no-frills truck closed soundly, and even buckles up. When he looks up, his expression is still friendly, his air still polished despite the apparent day old clothes..but if anything, it's now also a bit relieved. "I'm..not usually awake for the sorts of things that probably led that church to need repairs. I apologize for not recognizing you, Michael. Normally.." he hesitates, and realizes not everyone may be as caught up as Hawksmoor surprised him with being; especially with how confused Michael seemed at first. "D-do you know about Marc and I, and the rest of us?" Steven's name is generally the very last to be given, so he's not writing off the possibility simply because his name wasn't recognized.
Putting on his own seat-belt, Michael turns the key and the truck rumbles to life - even for a vehicle so old it runs well (far better than a certain wizard's Beetle...). He listens to Grant as he pulls out into the street, and starts the trip to the other man's apartment. Several hundred meters are covered before Michael replies.
"Your power is the same," he remarks as he turns onto another street. "That's what I sensed first - Khonshu?" He says the name of the deity with a degree of awkwardness. "Are you and Marc both Moon Knights? Servants of the same...being?"
He stops the car at an intersection in the back-streets, and waits for approaching traffic to pass by.
Grant waits patiently for Michael to speak, seeming patently oblivious to the route Michael's taking.. well. Maybe he's just more of a people person. Though heading to the address in question it's going right to the heart of midtown..that would have to be one heck of an apartment.
When the carpenter finally shares what he's surmised, his passenger blows out a slow breath, considering how best to answer. "We are, yes. Servants of Khonshu." he agrees, despite having none of the carriage or alertness Michael might associate with a warrior..or Marc, for that matter. He continues to say, "But in another sense, we're..the same servant, I suppose. Marc's in here too. And Moon Knight. They're not the same person.. but we're all of us.." he shrugs a bit, and gestures to himself since the light is red at the moment anyways.
Steven isn't used to being the one to explain this. He really hadn't thought it had been explained to anyone at all..not since Egypt. So he's really not sure what to expect or what pitfalls to avoid.
Okay, that gets Michael intrigued.
Having hopefully avoided a lot of unnecessary traffic, he turns the truck onto a more direct route to Grant's home - only a minute or so away now. "In here?" he queries with an arched eyebrow. "In the truck?" No sooner than the words are out of his mouth that realization dawns on the carpenter's face. "You're... multiple personalities? In the same body?"
He finally pulls up before a raised carpark that belongs to a collection of apartments in the heart of the city. If the grandeur of the 'inner city location' impresses the carpenter at all, he does not show it. Instead, his attention is mostly upon Grant, and his story. "Have you always been this way?" he asks a moment later. "Or did... Khonshu do this to you?" The question is given simply, and straightforwardly.
Steven can't stop a small laugh, raising a curled hand to his mouth when for a moment it seems Michael expects his truck to turn out to have physical stow aways. He nods though, when the light dawns. "Different people, yes."
"It.. wasn't always this way for us, no. The rest of us came after Marc was chosen. Suited to different tasks.." he clicks his tongue and laughs again with a helpless shake of his head. "..And this one really isn't my strong suit." he admits. "But there must be a reason for it." he taps the small book he's still holding on one knee.
As they near the address, Michael may come to realize that their destination might not be Steven's home after all... it looks like it's actually the address of the Baxter building.
"I've heard of this place," Michael murmurs in reference to the building connected to this particular parking lot. He stops in the most convenient carpark he can find - near the elevators that provide access to the Baxter Building - and turns the engine off.
Silence falls upon the sturdy little red truck.
Michael lifts a hand to his chin and rubs at his beard, then his eyes looks sideways and down at the little book on Grant's knee. "You're... one of the other personalities then," he murmurs - making more of a statement of the words, rather than a question. "You're not Marc... or Moon Knight." Incredulity washes over Michael's face and he blinks his eyes. "And I thought the Lord moved in mysterious ways..." He turns his head to look fully at Steven Grant. "There are no coincidences," he tells the other man seated beside him. "You found your way back to that church - the same church - right when I was working there. Whatever happened to you - all... of you - it's tied to what happened to Jack Hawksmoor, isn't it?" He pauses.
"How can I help?"
Steven stays where he is even as the truck goes still. As Michael guessed, this isn't a conversation he cares to have out on the streets, and their puzzling destination can wait a little longer yet.
"I'm Steven Grant." he answers simply. "I'm not Marc, or Moon Knight." he notices Michael's gaze, and flips open the little book again, pointing to the name written there,
'Genevieve Zavia' "And I'm not Jake..he's the one who wrote this. I don't know why.." he turns a page back, where an impatient hand wrote
'Check the dead drop' and underlined it. "That's Moon Knight." he indicates.
But underneath it is the rounder scrawl from the prior page, 'Nothing there?' "Jake again." Steven explains." hoping this will clear up whatever confusion Michael may still have about their situation. "..But. We haven't needed this book in years. Something's wrong, and..well, if there's no coincidences, then an answer has to be at this address." though he adds with a wan smile, "At least I hope so..."
You say, "Jack appeared in my home earlier and alerted me to the problem we were having. If it had something to do with what happened to him..he didn't say. But I know Marc was worried about another friend, Kilroy..he'd been kidnapped and Marc was trying to work how to track him down. But Kilroy was also there in my home, just today so he must have been saved somehow, but." he shakes his head. "I don't know much else.""
There is a long silence.
As Michael ponders his response, he arches his head back - letting his eyes fall briefly closed - and then stretches it from one side to the other. Something 'clicks' in his neck and he lets out a muted, relieved sigh. "I can already tell you I'm not qualified to talk about things like 'multiple personalities' - whether it's a psychological condition, or something supernatural. From what you've said, Steven, it's the norm for whatever qualifies as 'normal' to you, and Marc... and the others. I can see, however, why you'd want this - on top of the usual 'secret identity' issues - kept quiet." He looks straight at Grant again.
"You can trust me," he affirms - if only to have it spoken aloud. He puts the car-keys into his pocket, undoes his seat-belt and opens his door. "Whatever answers are here... I'll help you find them. Shall we?"
Steven doesn't interrupt Michael, except to snap the small book shut when he comments on not being qualified to say if they're just a psychological condition or not. Marc's had the conversation often enough to not be sure himself, but to Steven it's something of a fresh shock to realize how open a question it might seem to most people. It leaves his gaze vaguely unnerved when Michael meets it again. At a loss for what to say, he just nods. "Thank you." he answers, and distractedly gets out of the truck, trying to reclaim his previous train of thought.
Michael climbs out of the truck and shuts the door behind him, then reaches into his back pocket for his cellphone. He quickly sends a text-message to his wife, and puts the phone away as he walks around to the other side of the truck to stand beside Steven.
"I recognized the name 'Genevieve'," he tells Grant after a moment. "She was one of people who came to help free Jack Hawksmoor..." he frowns. "Does she live here?" He asks despite knowing that 'Steven Grant' may not have the answers that 'Marc' or 'Moon Knight' would.
Or Jake in this case, since apparently he was responsible for writing her name. Steven, for his part, shakes his head..? "I don't think I'd ever met her. I know Dr. Reed Richards and his family live here, but.." he closes the truck door and starts walking to the building. "If she doesn't live here, I suppose we'll find out soon."
Walking to the front of the building he adds to Michael quietly, "What you said before, about...this problem being related to Hawksmoor.. I don't know. He appeared in my home earlier and alerted me to the problem we were having. If it had something to do with what happened to him..he didn't say. But I know Marc was worried about another friend, Kilroy..he'd been kidnapped and Marc was trying to work how to track him down. But Kilroy was also there in my home, just today so he must have been saved somehow." he shakes his head. "I don't know much else."
"I see," Michael says.
"I apologize for the many questions I keep asking - it'll probably take a moment to get used to this." He looks up at the Baxter Building and then across at Steven Grant. "There's only one way to find out - we should go inside." A faint smile touches his lips as he continues looking sidelong at Grant. "If it's any consolation, I already pray for Moon Knight - and Marc..." His smile widens just a little.
"I'll add the rest of you to the list as well." Despite the expression on his face, his tone is quite serious. Suddenly, he looks even more curious. "You said you were all 'good at different things'... What do you do, Steven?"
Steven is surprised anew, and laughs as they stand before the door. "..Thank you for that..." he says, that sincere smile returning as he receives Michael's comment as seriously as it was offered. But then, even if he's made to resemble a civilian, he said himself he was still a servant of Khonshu, so faith can hardly be alien.
Steven hesitates from stepping into the revolving door at Michael's sudden question, and his expression becomes almost sheepish. "..I take care of the others." he answers. "Well..in a sense. If I'm being honest, Jake and Marc do most of the eating, but. I make sure resources are there. Handle the diplomatic side of things.." he pauses. And laughs again. "I'm trying not to say I just make money, but I do that too."
"You're the businessman of the bunch - quartermaster, even. I suppose... every army needs one." And that it would appear is what 'Moon Knight' is - an army in one man, or at least a 'special ops' team all in one... The analogy appears to make sense to the Knight of the Cross as he considers it. "...Before so great a crowd of witnesses..." he murmurs to himself, as though quoting something. Then he gives Grant a raised eyebrow. "We're not so different," he remarks simply. Honestly.
An idea occurs to him.
"May I see the book again?" he asks.
Steven Grant nods, returning the smile..it's true, he supposes. And perhaps Steven is making much the same parallel. He tilts his head at the quote, but having no memory of their prior encounters with Michael he certainly has no reason to contradict his assertion. "Huh?" he asks, surprised by the request for the book. He pulls it from his pocket and holds it out, wondering, "Do you think we have the wrong address?"
Accepting the little book from Grant's hand, Michael holds it in his left whilst laying his right upon its front cover. He murmurs a quiet prayer - a simple benediction of strength, wisdom, guidance... - and the area immediately around him thrums ever-so-faintly. Grant might well hear Michael name him, along with 'Jake', 'Marc' and 'Moon Knight' in the gentle prayer. The power seems to settle into the pages, and a sense of it may linger long after.
A moment later, the Knight of the Cross reaches into one of his side pockets and withdraws a pen. He opens the book to the first blank page he can find, and writes something with quick, deft brushes of his hand upon the page. Then, he closes the book, tucks the pen behind his right ear, and hands the book back to Grant with a nod. Should the man open it to that page, it will read:
To all of you: be strong and of good courage - God is with you.
And it is signed: Michael Carpenter along with his cellphone number. After handing it back, Michael explains: "If you should ever need me - any of you."
Grant is puzzled when Michael starts praying over the little book of exchanges..he realizes anxiously he doesn't think they've ever let anyone take it before except possibly Duchamp. But he considers himself a good judge of people-- he takes Michael for sincere, so he waits.
The Benediction's power is strange feeling to a servant of Khonshu.. but, Grant decides, not disagreeable. He is about to reach for the book back when he realizes what Michael is doing. "Wha..! I can find some.." he stammers to a halt as Michael is already writing. In the quick flip through to find a blank page, it's difficult to miss how crowded and emphatic some of the early pages look, but the one Michael finds is clean and white.
Grant does indeed check the book over with a baffled expression when it's offered back, reading Michael's curious comment.. and shakes his head with a smile. He pockets it again, commenting, "..Well. At least none of us won't know your name after this." he remarks, though after all, that can only happen so many times anyways. "I can't say it's exactly regular.. but thank you."
As Michael approaches the entrance to the Baxter Building, he turns his head to give Grant a look. "I remember after the battle, someone used Marc's name - he seemed... strange. It makes a little more sense now." Michael pauses to let someone else walk out the building, and stops just inside the lobby.
"What about the others?" he asks quietly. "Jake, for instance. Who is he in the 'team'?" The carpenter puts both his hands behind him, tucking his fingers into each back pocket, and arches his back a little as he waits for Grant's reply.
Steven smiles at Michael's observation. "Marc..has very little relevant legal documentation any more, so it's not as bad as it could have been for the rest of us." he explains.
The Inside of the Baxter Building is classy and clean, though Steven doesn't seem self conscious about his worn appearance, and smiles to anyone passing with an easy self assurance that might be more expected with three piece suits and mirror shine shoes. He looks over the wall of mailboxes, searching for the name from the little book as he answers, "Jake? Heh. Jake's a good man. He helps the rest of us find our way.. at least I think so." he stops in his perusal to wonder to Michael, "Do you know much about the aspects of Khonshu?"
Michael shakes his head.
"Beyond knowing the name, and its connection with ancient Egyptian history, or mythology... no." Casting a glance around the lobby, the carpenter removes his right hand from his back pocket and lets his arm hang at his side. Spotting the cafe across the room, he wets his lips with his tongue and then shifts his attention back toward Grant.
"I gather from what you say, that Jake is... your navigator? Or did you mean 'find you way' as in 'who goes where?' A psychologist and librarian in one... in charge of personnel?" He smiles, his eyes gleaming with visible curiosity.
Then he frowns.
"Do you all... get along?"
Steven's hmms! "I meant in the literal and the figurative sense, I suppose. He certainly has an uncanny sense of direction." and yet Steven was wandering the city looking for this place instead..
Steven laughs a little uncertainly at Michael's second question. "Well. ..Sometimes more than others." he replies simply.