applesaucedream | Saving Lives a Mile High [open to all]

Welcome to another ordinary day in Manhattan. This barely even qualifies as a dream at all, it's so like waking life. The dreamers will find that they're their own perfectly normal selves going about their perfectly normal business and thwarting perfectly normal crimes in their perfectly normal spandex outfits.

What's that? No, of course it's normal to wear spandex (or leather, for the more chic among you) and go around beating up muggers and thwarting your villainous counterparts, don't be silly. What else would you do with your afternoon, not use your superpowers to better the world? That's grossly irresponsible of you; don't you know that with great power comes great responsibility?

So get out there and make the world a better place -- and be sure not to let that disguise slip if you do make it in to work today. Wouldn't want anyone to learn your secret identity, after all.

[OOC: Characters will find themselves thrust into the role of superhero...or at least, super-powered human. Whether they'd use those powers for good or evil (or use them at all), they'll think they've always been this way (or maybe just since that time they fell in toxic waste and developed ~~cancer~~ telekinesis). Usual dream party rules apply: all players and characters welcome regardless of membership status. Characters will remember or forget the events of the dream at players' discretion.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He doesn't lean back. He very deliberately does not lean back.

"I might ask you the same question," he points out instead. "I'm not the one following people - though I guess that's not the right word, is it? Preceding, that's the one." If nothing else, this unwanted proximity has given him plenty of time to listen. The more he thinks about it, the more different she sounds from the way he remembers. That was only a week or so ago; what could possibly have happened in such little time?

He really doesn't know, does he? That's some small relief, though the quiet snort she lets out is more exasperated than anything else. So, he managed to figure out her scrupulously hidden identity and snag her phone number, but is unaware of what she actually does. Christ.

She could tell him.

It's not without risk - he must have something going on, to have found her in the first place - but if he had a way of sussing out the extent of her powers without her telling him, he'd have done it already.

Getting here was difficult. Making sure this conversation didn't actually happen will be easy.

"You want to know how I found you?" She leans against the back of her chair and gives him a maddeningly blasé shrug of her own. See how he likes it. "Trial and error. Weeks of it." She gives that a moment to sink in, then leans forward again. "But you started this. And if you don't want me to finish it, you'll answer my goddamn question."

He doesn't look surprised. The words certainly have an effect, but he doesn't look surprised. He just closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

He knew it.

"Do you think I don't know how this works?" He leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, voice low. "I didn't do anything with you that I don't do with every half-decent vigilante in this town. My only mistake was thinking that this would be different - what can I say, I'm a sucker for do-gooders." Punch a few purse-snatchers and suddenly you must be a good person. Is he still such an easy mark after all this time?

If he didn't know better...but she wasn't sent here by any of them. He could never miss something like that. He knows their songs better than any others. "You can do whatever you want, but I'm not going to be some time looper's personal pet parrot again."

Oh, cry her a goddamn river. Rita huffs out a quiet laugh, incredulous and entirely without pity. "You pull this shit with everyone and expect me to believe I'm the first to object?" It probably says something bad about her that she feels more at ease as he becomes increasingly uncomfortable, but fuck it, she's been at this for a while and it's nice to finally have the roles reversed. "I'm not the only one who likes her privacy." With a glance to either side and a slight lean inward, telegraphing that she's about to impart some great and terrible secret, she adds in a conspiratorial hush, "That's what the mask is for."

A bit much, maybe. But it's obvious that he doesn't know how this works, if his only response to being called out is a load of self-righteous whining. What, does he think none of the others whose identities he casually exposed (even if only to himself) were upset about it? Has he been taking it for granted that his dubious charm and accurate information are all it would take to win someone over?

Or has he just been lucky, up until now, because none of the others could do what she does and hold him personally accountable for his actions?

Yeah, that seems like a safe bet. She sits back and just stares at him for a moment or two, wondering how many people in his contact list are being held hostage by the implicit threat of exposure. Speaking of keeping people as fucking pets. That's his purview, and his apparent experience with other time-loopers barely registers, a fact taken in and quietly filed away while most of her focus is on not throttling him.

"I already told you I don't need an informant," she says without a trace of her former levity. And if he's been paying attention, he knows why. But just in case he hasn't, she speaks slowly and carefully, each word distinct: "What possible fucking use could I have for you?"

Saving Lives a Mile High [open to all]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject