Okay but

So your confidence is quiet To them quiet looks like weakness Scott Johnson Twenty-Five || Born Superior {{ Enhanced Thievery }} lock-picking, pick-pocketing; social cloaking But you don't have to fight it 'Cause you're strong enough to win without a war

[javierdiaztime-blog]

forgetmescott:

Ordinarily, Scotty would’ve gone to some pretty excessive lengths to avoid anything that could be construed as conversation. But the look this guy was giving him - and even more, the tone of his voice - painted quite a clear picture of lordly disdain. It was funny and annoying, but mostly just annoying. Scotty leaned back, pushing the torn up knees of his jeans against the seat in front of him hard enough that it jostled the occupant. The watch he’d just taken came back out of his pocket, and Scotty turned it over in his hands in search of any engravings of other personal shit that might affect its value.

“Yeah. Probably.”

Javier waited expectantly for the kid to move his backpack, but instead he just took out a watch that very clearly was not his.  Javier raised his eyebrow, looking down at it.  “That’s a nice watch,” he said, his eyes flickering up and about in case the bus was making a stop near some policemen.  “Did you get it as a gift?”

[forgetmescott-blog]

"No." Scotty didn't look up, but he did sigh a little under his breath as he found a set of initials embossed on one of the gold links. This guy was asking a lot of questions, but Scott wasn't really concerned. There wasn't much he could do here on a bus, in the middle of a ton of witnesses. "You like it? Pawn shop might give me fifteen bucks, but you can have it for ten."

[papadommy]

forgetmescott:

Scotty stares back, confused by the.. insult? Was that an insult? What a weird fucking thing to say. He sits on his heels, examining the other man a little more from under scowling brows. “If you need any diet tips for that cow’s ass of yours, let me know.”

“When did you ever get the chance to see my ass?” Pim wishes there’s another $50 he could kick. “In any case, rude kids like you need to watch their mouth. I have a short temper,” okay, that’s a total guess on Pim’s part, “and big arms that swing hard.”

[forgetmescott-blog]

"It's big enough to see from here," he quipped back in a bland tone. The guy's words had the sound of a total bluff to Scott's ears. "That so. Well, go ahead then, fat ass."

[beastbci]

forgetmescott:

Scotty watched curiously, and was pleased when the building turned out to be pretty much security-free. He was a little let down but not surprised when he found himself in the guy’s very modest digs. He likely wouldn’t have gone in for any big electronics anyway, but their presence was sometimes a good indicator. Dylan didn’t seem to have much. Bummer.

“Yeah, sure.” Hands in his jacket pockets, Scotty roved idly around the room and pretended to be peering through a window down at the street while he catalogued the contents of a dresser. “What’s the rent like on a place like this?”

Dylan was observant. But apparently just not observant enough to notice the guy canvassing his neighborhood and apartment all in one go. But it was all the same to him, really, he didn’t have anything to steal. He worked during the day bagging groceries, but in his off hours he was a certified sugar baby, making money off of Dorian while they both had a good time. It paid well, but Dylan had no idea what to do with money, so it just sat in his bank until he had a bill to pay. 

“$400,” he said. “All utilities included, except air conditioning in the summer, which is an absolute must,” he said as he started the crappy little knock-off keurig in the corner of his kitchen. A few seconds later, a cup of coffee was presented to Scott. “Where d’you live?” 

[forgetmescott-blog]

Four hundred? Scotty pursed his mouth, surprised. All this space for four hundred, huh. He glanced up and shrugged, accepting the cup with a mumble of thanks. “Nowhere. Just around.” Man, coffee was good. He sat sort of awkwardly on a chair, holding his cup close because the warmth felt good on his hands.

[itsxsaturdayxguede-blog]

forgetmescott:

Stupid damn observant dogs. The forty-something man’s cringed slightly in disgust while he watched the animal’s attempts to lick the other’s face.

This small talk thing was getting out of hand, not to mention annoying. Scott didn’t think he could get much closer without provoking an even greater reaction from the dog, so he gave up quickly on any hopes of scanning the other man’s belongings for takeables. Tucking the cigarette box back into his jacket, Scott affected a smile and nodded to the man. “Well, I won’t keep you from your work. Keep up the good stuff you’re doing with those flowers. I’ve never seen this place looking so nice.”

Ok. This was kind of painful. And Dude was still on edge around this man. So maybe Reynard should be too. The only thing he had in his pocket was his phone, with a cracked screen from when it feel against the concrete during the fray of the protest. The stitches over his eye were gone but he was left with a little scar over his brow. He joked now that he looked like Khal Drogo.

“Alright, there wasn’t anything you needed was there?” He hoped not, this city has seen enough death already this year.

“Yeah, this place was pretty beat up when I took it over a couple years ago. Glad I could get it looking nice again. – Reynard Boisseau, by the way.” He offered the man a freezing handshake. “I hope you won’t need to come talk to me anytime soon, God willin’, but it’s nice to meet you, anyway.”

[forgetmescott-blog]

Scotty internally gritted his teeth as he made himself reach for the man's hand. With the image of the cracked phone clear in his mind, he debating taking it purely for the purpose of being able to say he got something out of this. With an internal sigh though, he let the moment pass and the guy with his dumb, open and friendly face got to keep his phone. Scotty really didn't like other people, but every so often, certain ones stirred something in him. It wasn't friendliness, because fuck no; more like just a few seconds of vaguely gloomy curiosity. But having a nice, laid back chat about flowers or what the fuck ever wasn't something Scotty really understood how to do. He could affect normalcy and only insofar as it led to a payoff, but beyond that he was useless.

He smiled a little, already withdrawing. "No, thanks, I don't need anything. Um, Scott Johnson. Nice to meet you too.. Good luck with your flowers."

[javierdiaztime-blog]

forgetmescott:

Buses were another easy spot. Everybody was usually distracted or, like now, spaced out because of the early hours. On the packed morning commute, Scotty could sometimes hit five or six marks in the time it took to go just one stop. Standing in the aisle now and hanging onto one of the railings above his head, he rifled steadily through the pockets, briefcases, and backpacks of everyone in the immediate area. 

He was sliding somebody’s watch that may or may not be a cheap knockoff into his jacket when he became aware of a pair of eyes fixed on him. Hackles prickling irritably, Scotty tried to cast a discreet glance in the observer’s direction, but to his consternation they locked eyes almost immediately. The stranger was looking directly at him in a way almost no one ever did, causing Scotty another flash of hostile annoyance. There was no room in the aisle to move further away, and the only spare seat seemed to be next to the stranger. Sigh. 

Scott gritted his teeth and reluctantly sank into it, because it would just look weird now if he didn’t. He searched through the man’s pockets automatically while he settled his own ratty rucksack between his peeling converses. “.. Morning.”

“Good morning,”  Javier said in slight surprise, when this…rather scruffy-looking child sat next to him.  Javier couldn’t help but move slightly away, squashing the lady next to him in an effort not to touch.  Who knew what little critters might be rustling around on the boy.  The lady harrumphed and glared at Javier for a moment, but fortunately got up and left at her stop.  

Javier never took the bus.  He took the subway sometimes, if Aisling was gridlocked.  But with his motorcycle destroyed and new motorcycle getting some customization in the shop, Javier thought it might be a novelty to forego the taxicab and take the bus.  His siblings were always hounding him for not ‘knowing the people of Aisling’ even though Javier was such a proud citizen.  He was just proud in a rich sort of way.

So here he was, being jostled in the midst of the common folk, much like a subway only slower.  Ugh.  But he’d occupied himself with staring holes into the back of a standing man’s head, trying to figure out if he was Keaton O’Leary.  Taking a bus?? It sounded impossible, but then again Javier Diaz was taking a bus, so why not Javi’s ex-boyfriend?

He barely noticed the short little ruffian, until it was perched on the seat next to him and greeting him.  “I’m sorry, but can you put that somewhere else?”  Javier said, motioning to the rucksack between the boy’s feet.  As if buses were equipped with a baggage car.   Javier tried to word this politely. “I thing it has an…off scent about it.”

[forgetmescott-blog]

Ordinarily, Scotty would've gone to some pretty excessive lengths to avoid anything that could be construed as conversation. But the look this guy was giving him - and even more, the tone of his voice - painted quite a clear picture of lordly disdain. It was funny and annoying, but mostly just annoying. Scotty leaned back, pushing the torn up knees of his jeans against the seat in front of him hard enough that it jostled the occupant. The watch he'd just taken came back out of his pocket, and Scotty turned it over in his hands in search of any engravings of other personal shit that might affect its value.

"Yeah. Probably."

[spittingvencm]

forgetmescott:

What the fuck. Scotty grunted and glanced down at the bill, and then was unable to resist rolling his eyes. “Gee thanks, mister. I’ll go get myself a whole bagel now.” Nevertheless, the rolled up bill vanished from his hand, safe deep inside a pocket now. “That so? And you get to make that call ‘cause you’re, what- the boss of it? If I want to be a homeless piece of shit, pal, that’s my business. But give me another five and I’ll fuck off and do it somewhere else.”

“McDonald’s still has that classy dollar menu, right? Im sure you’ll figure something out,” Bellamy said as he patted Scott on the shoulder a few times, officially attempting to dismiss him as he stepped around, heading for his waiting car. “It’s okay, you can keep begging for scraps here if you like, I’ve got places to be anyway.” 

[forgetmescott-blog]

"Would you want to live on McDonald's?" He asked the question without any expectation of getting a response, because the guy was already moving away. And while it was kind of interesting to come across someone with a seeming immunity to his powers, Scotty's sense of self-preservation squashed dead any kind of impulse that would've inspired him to follow the guy back home. He probably had a cutting edge security system anyway. Not worth the risk. Sighing to himself, Scotty rubbed his temples and by the time he was done, a middle aged man with a ponch was standing in his place, eyes scanning the line at the counter for his next mark.

[beastbci]

forgetmescott:

Clearly it wasn’t going to be a deep and introspective conversation. That was fine though. It’s not like that was what Scotty wanted anyway. He shouldered his backpack and made his way off the bus, keeping close-ish but anybody passing probably wouldn’t have realized they were together. Hot water. Clean clothes. Good things that were harder to come by, at least without a great deal more effort and planning than Scotty usually felt like putting in.

He wondered what kind of place this guy lived in, and how easy it would be to come back and break into later. As they walked, Scotty occasionally drifted casually from one side of the pavement to the other, coming just close enough to other people to empty their pockets with his mind. He’d collected another twenty-three fifty and a Starbucks giftcard by the time they’d gone two blocks. “Is it much further?”

Normally, Dylan would have been much more chatty. But he was still recovering from the night before and every other step either made him want to say ‘ow’ or ‘shit’ or ‘just get me to bed’ so he just kept quiet, blissfully unaware of the superior stealing going on somewhere behind him. 

“No,” he said as he turned down an alley and approached what looked like a slummy back door. “Just a few flights upwards. The elevator is broken, I don’t complain about it and I get a discount on rent.” He wiggled his key in the door and then seemed to do some weird combination of kicking it and nudging it with his shoulder before it gave way to him. Then, a few flights upwards and they were at his third story apartment. 

He opened the door and they were greeted by a semi-studio apartment. His kitchen, bed, and living room were all one big room, and the bathroom was sectioned off somewhere in the corner. There were still boxes everywhere, but it was roomy enough. 

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” he said. “Want some coffee?” 

[forgetmescott-blog]

Scotty watched curiously, and was pleased when the building turned out to be pretty much security-free. He was a little let down but not surprised when he found himself in the guy's very modest digs. He likely wouldn't have gone in for any big electronics anyway, but their presence was sometimes a good indicator. Dylan didn't seem to have much. Bummer.

"Yeah, sure." Hands in his jacket pockets, Scotty roved idly around the room and pretended to be peering through a window down at the street while he catalogued the contents of a dresser. "What's the rent like on a place like this?"

[simonclaymd-blog]

The clinic had a sudden influx of urchins, each of them experiencing some sort of trouble with their superior ability. Mutations gone hay-wire, abilities beyond what they could control. The trouble all started with the explosion and Simon had the ‘good luck’ to open at the exact time an urchin’s need may outweigh their suspicion.

He was exhausted. He’d never smoked in his life but right now he sort of wished he did. Simon closed his eyes and sighed louder as he heard footsteps approaching.

“If this is about us being out of something or one of the nurses calling in cause they’re going to miss their shift please just give me five minutes before I have to deal with it.’

[forgetmescott-blog]

Scotty had only come in because he was curious. He'd never tagged a clinic before, but he was intrigued by how much he could maybe possibly get in theory for certain drugs out on the street. He'd only been in Aisling for a handful of weeks, but he'd established some relatively reliable connections in that time.

Coming around a corner, he heard a voice and instinctively made his dirty clothes shift to resemble scrubs and exchanged his own tangled mess of hair for a much shorter, more conventional style. "No sir, don't worry," he said pleasantly. "I'm not here to ruin your afternoon. I was asked to retrieve something for my supervisor, but I'm not sure I'm on the right floor. Is there a supply closet close by?"

[papadommy]

forgetmescott:

All Scotty can squeeze out is a gasp of desperation as he watches so much money slide out of his reach. He stares at the drain blankly for several seconds, then scowls at the man. There’s a handgun that he carries for self-defense slung under the back of his jacket, and it’s good to remember it’s there because this asshole is pretty big, but putting a bullet in his face won’t bring the money back, so. Scotty quickly memorizes his face though, because he’s going to fuck this idiot up later and rob him down to the drywall studs. 

“Eating was getting a little mainstream anyway,” he mutters, resolved to wait until the guy has cleared out before trying to get to his feet. And follow him, of course.

“True. And you’re far too chubby anyway.” As far as Pim recalls, weight gain is a sensitive social issue for people. He hopes this stung as much as he intends it to.

[forgetmescott-blog]

Scotty stares back, confused by the.. insult? Was that an insult? What a weird fucking thing to say. He sits on his heels, examining the other man a little more from under scowling brows. "If you need any diet tips for that cow's ass of yours, let me know."

[forgetmescott-blog]

[beastbci]

forgetmescott:

He cast a sidelong glance at the other, mildly surprised. Wasn’t owning a car sort of expensive? Maybe Scotty had that wrong. He heard people complain all the time about the cost of gas, so he just assumed. Thinking about the question a moment, he blinked and then smirked a little. “Nobody’s ever invited me in before,” he said, putting the slightest emphasis on ‘invited’, because of course he’d broken into countless people’s homes. At the question of Dylan’s maybe being a killer, Scotty just shrugged. “Just try not to torture me a lot, I guess.”

“Torture isn’t on my list of kinks,” Dylan said. Finally, the bus stopped at his stop and he stood up. He almost half expected the guy (what was his name again? Frank? Steve? Joey? Shit, he forgot.) to just sit there, so he trudged forward and only stopped when he was eye to eye with the covered bus stop terminal. He turned and waited. “Come on,” he said. “I’ve got hot water and clean clothes.” 

[forgetmescott-blog]

Clearly it wasn't going to be a deep and introspective conversation. That was fine though. It's not like that was what Scotty wanted anyway. He shouldered his backpack and made his way off the bus, keeping close-ish but anybody passing probably wouldn't have realized they were together. Hot water. Clean clothes. Good things that were harder to come by, at least without a great deal more effort and planning than Scotty usually felt like putting in.

He wondered what kind of place this guy lived in, and how easy it would be to come back and break into later. As they walked, Scotty occasionally drifted casually from one side of the pavement to the other, coming just close enough to other people to empty their pockets with his mind. He'd collected another twenty-three fifty and a Starbucks giftcard by the time they'd gone two blocks. "Is it much further?"

[spittingvencm]

forgetmescott:

Oh. The wind sucked from his sails, Scott deflated accordingly. Again he tried to pocket the man’s cash, or a card, or even his fucking ID just on principle, but it was all as ineffective as before. With a final grudging sigh, he shook his head. “No. You do know that five bucks only buys like.. a cup of coffee these days, right?”

Bellamy was hardly listening. He rarely did to anyone who was somehow below his own personal status. Instead, he was pulling a five out of his billfold and pressing it into the kid’s chest. “That’ll do, right? Otherwise, I suggest you find a job or something. This city has no place for freeloaders.” 

[forgetmescott-blog]

What the fuck. Scotty grunted and glanced down at the bill, and then was unable to resist rolling his eyes. "Gee thanks, mister. I'll go get myself a whole bagel now." Nevertheless, the rolled up bill vanished from his hand, safe deep inside a pocket now. "That so? And you get to make that call 'cause you're, what- the boss of it? If I want to be a homeless piece of shit, pal, that's my business. But give me another five and I'll fuck off and do it somewhere else."

[beastbci]

forgetmescott:

Scotty chewed on the tip of his tongue, annoyed with himself for accepting the offer of help even as he tried to assure himself that he was just being practical. Just taking advantage of an opportunity, same as ever. And maybe this guy would end up having something Scotty could make off with, so there was still potential there, in theory. “Jake.” He’d used it so many times in the past that it sounded perfectly natural in his mouth. “You always pick up strays on buses?”

The bus stopped, a few people got off, thinning out the crowd of morning commuters taking up space on the bus. He scooted over a little, feeling himself relax. He was still sort of irritated, he needed a glass of tea or a nap or something. “No,” he said. “I don’t usually take the bus at all, but my car’s in the shop.” The old piece of shit might have leaked its last tank of oil all over the ground the day before. “You always accept offers to come into stranger’s houses? I could be a killer or something.” 

[forgetmescott-blog]

He cast a sidelong glance at the other, mildly surprised. Wasn't owning a car sort of expensive? Maybe Scotty had that wrong. He heard people complain all the time about the cost of gas, so he just assumed. Thinking about the question a moment, he blinked and then smirked a little. "Nobody's ever invited me in before," he said, putting the slightest emphasis on 'invited', because of course he'd broken into countless people's homes. At the question of Dylan's maybe being a killer, Scotty just shrugged. "Just try not to torture me a lot, I guess."

[papadommy]

forgetmescott:

As Pim was making his way toward the building, Scotty happened to be exiting it. He also happened to be distracted, his eyes on the bills he was counting silently under his breath. And he was small enough that the collision knocked him back roughly and sent the majority of the cash he’d just lifted from the apartment he’d broken into fluttering to the ground. 

“Are you fucking serious?” He shot one venomous glare at the man and stooped down to recover the money. “Watch where you’re going, dumbass.”

It’s as if the head injury had taken any human decency out of him, because all Pim does is stare at the kid. Which is good, because he’s too rude to be helped anyway. Pim would have felt betrayed if he started giving this guy a hand. 

Instead, he kick’s a $50 into the nearest drain, feeling it’s his duty as karma distributor. 

[forgetmescott-blog]

All Scotty can squeeze out is a gasp of desperation as he watches so much money slide out of his reach. He stares at the drain blankly for several seconds, then scowls at the man. There's a handgun that he carries for self-defense slung under the back of his jacket, and it's good to remember it's there because this asshole is pretty big, but putting a bullet in his face won't bring the money back, so. Scotty quickly memorizes his face though, because he's going to fuck this idiot up later and rob him down to the drywall studs. 

"Eating was getting a little mainstream anyway," he mutters, resolved to wait until the guy has cleared out before trying to get to his feet. And follow him, of course.

[papadommy]

The left half of Pim’s face is still healing (and hurting), but since it’s nowhere near as bad as it used to be a couple of weeks ago, the doctors agreed to discharge him early. 

The black van stops in a run down part of the South Side of the city (supposedly Pim’s favourite neighborhood to spend his time at) and without saying a word to anyone, Pim gets off. The van drives away quietly and he’s all by himself again. Spying.  He can never forget who his real allegiance is with. Never. 

Pim locates the building that his apartment is supposed to be at and without bothering to look both ways, he starts walking and immediately bumps into someone. He got too used to having all the space to himself at the New Order, didn’t he? 

The impact causes more pain than his healing body can take.  “My bad…” he growls due to the pain, rubbing his left shoulder.

[forgetmescott-blog]

As Pim was making his way toward the building, Scotty happened to be exiting it. He also happened to be distracted, his eyes on the bills he was counting silently under his breath. And he was small enough that the collision knocked him back roughly and sent the majority of the cash he'd just lifted from the apartment he'd broken into fluttering to the ground. 

"Are you fucking serious?" He shot one venomous glare at the man and stooped down to recover the money. "Watch where you're going, dumbass."

[spittingvencm]

forgetmescott:

Scotty scoffed irritably. How the fuck was this a hard question? “What. color?” he demanded again, pulling on a tangled hank of it and shoving it in the man’s direction. The image he’d been projecting was that of a fifty-something man with salt and pepper hair and greyish scruff around his neck. His own stupid normal hair was a mousy sort of brown. Neither were pretty, but there was still a decided distinction between them.

He’d already grasped that for whatever reason, at least a portion of his abilities weren’t working on this guy. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to get a firmer handle on whether it was some or all and why that was. He’d go brood about it all later and come up with no satisfying explanation, but it was the principle of the thing at this point. And the man’s annoying reluctance to give him a straight answer. “Come on. It’s not hard.”

Well now this kid was just being a brat. Look at that face, he was so displeased. Normally this would make Bellamy laugh, but he was in public being admonished by a dirty twenty-something. This was no laughing matter. 

“Kid, it’s hard to tell because it’s filthy. Are you looking for something here? Would you like a five dollar bill for lunch or something? I’ve got a meeting to attend in a bit.” 

[forgetmescott-blog]

Oh. The wind sucked from his sails, Scott deflated accordingly. Again he tried to pocket the man's cash, or a card, or even his fucking ID just on principle, but it was all as ineffective as before. With a final grudging sigh, he shook his head. "No. You do know that five bucks only buys like.. a cup of coffee these days, right?"

[beastbci]

forgetmescott:

Scotty thought about the credit cards in his pocket, half of which would probably get canceled before he could run them or declined because he didn’t have the pin. He had eighteen dollars in cash at the moment. Enough for coffee, a sandwich, and a pack of cigarettes. Maybe. Definitely not enough to replace his shoes, or buy a night somewhere with a working shower. Scott frowned at the holes in his jeans and sighed out his bravado. “Yeah.. okay.”

Dylan nodded some when Scott agreed. He had no idea what drove him to ask that kind of question, he usually kept his crime fighting to night time and only then in animal form. But lately Aisling had been so damn ugly. Maybe it was time to make it better with actions in the day time. “I’m two stops away,” he said. “I’m Dylan, by the way. What’s your name?” 

[forgetmescott-blog]

Scotty chewed on the tip of his tongue, annoyed with himself for accepting the offer of help even as he tried to assure himself that he was just being practical. Just taking advantage of an opportunity, same as ever. And maybe this guy would end up having something Scotty could make off with, so there was still potential there, in theory. "Jake." He'd used it so many times in the past that it sounded perfectly natural in his mouth. "You always pick up strays on buses?"