1243/Seen And Not Seen

Seen And Not Seen
Date of Scene:	19 April 2020
Location:	Planet Herowood - Avenue of Tomorrow
Synopsis:	Vic tries to hide in plain sight. It goes about as well as you'd think when a cub reporter is on his trail.
Cast of Characters:	Victor Stone, Terry O'Neil

---

Victor Stone has posed:
It's a bit after the lunch rush, and things have died down as much as they ever do in Planet Herowood. In a back booth in the shadow of a suspended replica Batmobile, Victor Stone sits munching on the first of a trio of hoagies he ordered, trying not to make eye contact with anyone who isn't waitstaff and quietly hoping that he just looks like a really dedicated cosplayer with niche interests. It might not have been the best decision for someone who's trying to avoid public attention to leave the S.T.A.R. Labs campus, but frankly, he's been going stir crazy in there and this seems like a relatively low-risk option. He picks a bit of onion out of his sandwich with a daintiness that belies his imposing frame and takes another bite.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Lois Lane's Rules For The Cub Reporter: It's not 'stalking' if you're working on a story, it's 'research.' Admittedly, Terry's motives were mixed: there /was/ a story, but it was also a personal thing. The coming together of the Titans was the story he had started to pursue, only to find that the story engulfed him and made him part of it. Garfield, admittedly, was in a better mood seeing Caitlin, Donna and Kori come back to the tower and Raven snap out of her funk*, but there were still two pieces missing, and one of the truly important pieces to Gar and Titan history was one of the founders. One Victor Stone.

Admittedly, Mister Stone was a hard man to miss, but even then it took Terry a good amount of time staking out the campus before he was able to get a bead on him- mostly because assignments at the Planet took precedent. He almost did a fist-pump in his car when he saw Vic head out for lunch and, after tailing him for a while from a very respectable distance (again, hard to miss), the redhead grinned when he saw the destination of Planet Herowood. It was brilliant, really- who would look for a needle in a pincushion?


Not long after Victor's food arrives, Terry comes through the front doors. He's exceedingly casual: a grey tank top with the motto "Ask Me About My Secret Identity" across the chest, unruly red hair and rather torn jeans. He looks around, and locates Vic's booth. Hands in his pant pockets, he walks over to the booth and says, "Hey man, awesome cosplay. D'you mind if I sit down for a bit? They're still cleaning out the others," he signals with his thumb over his shoulder as the cleaning crew starts doing cleanup after lunch rush. A good number of the good booths and seats being frantically scrubbed down. "Thanks!" he plops himself down before Victor has a chance to ask, a smile from ear to ear.

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic is only halfway through absently replying, "It's amazing what you can do with foamcore and LEDs," when the stranger takes over the opposite side of his booth. "Um." His artificial left eye grows brighter for a second as he glares at his uninvited guest. "I'm pretty sure they'll be happy to let you wait for another seat," he hints in a low monotone, very carefully not letting a trace of vocoded distortion into his voice. Foamcore and LEDs, remember? Whatever intimidating pose he's trying to strike is undermined a little bit by a fleck of lettuce that chooses that moment to drop onto his nondescript S.T.A.R. Labs tank top. His black tank top. Was there mayonnaise on that damned leaf? Ugh. He drops his sandwich back onto the plate, brushes the lettuce away with more force than is strictly necessary, and wishes that every annoyance could be removed as easily. "Sorry, who are you? I'm, uh, waiting for someone." Acting isn't Vic's forte, but the message is still pretty clear: seat's taken, Forrest.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Don't worry, I'll scoot off when the other places are cleaned up. Just thought I'd hang out a bit with a cool dude. I spend most of my working day on my feet, so a rest will do." This isn't entirely true- working for Lois and getting into dangerous situation only counts for half of the work day. The rest is bringing coffee and writing. "You know, you're a total dead ringer. Name's Terry." He extends a hand to Victor, his smile lighting up by several gigawatts, "What's yours?"

He glances down at Victor's chest and huhs, "Don't worry, club soda'll get that out." He catches the attention of a server, "While I'm waiting, can I have a Beast Boy Kiwi Blizzard? Thanks!"

Green eyes go over to the tank top again, with the labs logo, and he raises an eyebrow, "You're a science dude, eh?"

Victor Stone has posed:
Ignoring the extended hand for now, Vic looks down at the tank top and frowns. "It's just part of the costume, man. Robots, science, you know." Vic has been cultivating a dumb jock voice just to annoy his dad since he was 11, and it occasionally comes in handy. "And I'm not a dead ringer, it's just that all people see is the chrome. Er, foamcore. The rest of me could be Barack Obama and no one would notice." He winces slightly when Terry mentions Beast Boy. "So you're big into the Titans, I guess. You'd have to be, to even know who Cyborg is. Kinda passe, aren't they?" Finally, he eyes the offered hand, sighs slightly, and answers, "I'm Herschel." He does not shake.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
If Terry is insulted by the ignored handshake, he doesn't show it. Instead, he uses it to grab a napkin from the dispenser and sets it in front of him. "I don't recall President O having /that/ build, but whatever. Maybe he's taken up crossfit nowadays." A server brings him an ice water, and he takes a sip.

He notices the wince, and there is a sudden feline quality to his eyes, glittering like a cat, but his expression remains friendly. "Now, passé is a strange word for someone putting that much effort into dressing up as one of them." He tilts his head a little and watches Victor for a few seconds in silence. "Into the titans? I guess you could say that. The Justice League are today, sure... but they're in disarray since Superman died. The Titans? They're tomorrow. Especially since there are lights in the tower again."

"What do you think about tomorrow, Hersch?"

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic snorts. "Crossfit is overrated anyway." OK, so the jock thing isn't all a persona. He rolls his eyes and continues, "What do I think about tomorrow? I think you probably shouldn't get your fanboy hopes up, because tomorrow, lights are going to be about all they have in that tower. This is not the first time some well-meaning aged-up teen has tried to get that band back together and it's probably going to be just as awkward and uncomfortable as the last. Maybe it's better to let it die than to turn it into some sad shell of what it used to be, just because you can't bring yourself to let go." God, that lettuce must really have gotten to him! How much can a tank top cost, anyway?

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Both eyebrows raise now, and his expression changes to a curious one. His Beast Boy Kiwi Blizzard arrives, and the redhead takes a few thoughtful sips. "Geez, man, don't hold back, tell me how you /really/ feel!"

He leans back on his seat, arms crossed over his chest. "For someone dressing up as Cybrog, you seem to hav this whole hate thing going on."

He raises his chin a little, and frowns. "Do you think that should also go for BB?" His voice is suddenly very quiet, "Maybe the little guy should have his heart shattered more- I mean, he's already lost a family, and some friends. Letting himself become jaded and cynical would build character, don't you think?"

Victor Stone has posed:
"I'm not jaded and cynical!" Vic protests, in defiance of all available evidence. "I'm literally sitting here in the middle of the superhero disneyland cafe." He pulls up his tank top to reveal his big glowing chest aperture, and mentally cranks the brightness up. "Look! I'm an actual ray of sunshine." He shakes his head, lip twisting, and tries to turn the questions on Terry. "What business do you have nagging me about Gar? Why are you so invested in this anyway? It's none of your business." He stares at his hoagies for a second, then belatedly amends, "Our business, I mean. Nothing to do with us."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry smiles a little- ray of sunshine, that's a good one. He reaches for the blizzard and takes another long sip. His eyes stay fixed on the Cyborg for the duration of the sip, and it's a long one. When he finally sets it down, about half of the drink is gone.

"Well, that's a very good question, and just as it were I have the answ-aaaAAAAHhhh."

Terry groans, lifting his hands to his forehead, his face scrunching up in the image of excruciating pain. "--yaugh! Brainfreeze! Agh! Like an icicle... stabbing my brain..."

So much for the theatricality of a planned delivery. Maybe next time he should pick a warmer drink to use for a dramatic pause. "... oh god I almost prefer getting soul-eaten by Raven, augh!"

He rubs his forehead and looks up at Victor again, eyes half lidded as the pain passes. "... where was I?"

Victor Stone has posed:
Victor squints at Terry, his left eye a baleful, glowing slit. "Oh my god. They sent you! They sent you to bother me because I muted the group chat and Gar's texts. Do you have any idea what a vibrating phone does when your leg is made of metal??" He reaches out with his metal hand, places a finger against the tabletop, and makes it buzz against it with a grating, drilling sound. He then starts repeating the action at intermittent intervals. "Bzzt! Hey vic. Bzzt! What's up vic. Bzzt bzzzt! Haven't heard from you in a while. Bzzt! So I was wondering. Bzzt! I was wondering this thing I didn't put in the previous text because I wanted you to get some more of these fun Bzzt! Bzzt! feelings in your pants. Bzzt! So what do you think? Bzzt! You haven't answered in forty-five seconds so I'm assuming you must be dying in an alley somewhere. Bzzt! Text me back if you're dying. Bzzt! I'll be right there!" He reaches out to grab the Blizzard cup and drag it toward himself, leaning forward at the same time. "I muted those texts for the sake of my own sanity, TERRY. If that is your real name."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry laughs and shakes his head, "Yeah, that sounds like Gar alright. Look, relax, nobody /sent/ me, I came by my own initiative, they're not like that." He doesn't dispute the claiming of the blizzard, he's not going to gulp from it until the residual cold invading his head dies out. "I haven't told any lies, my name /is/ Terry. Terry O'Neil, if you want the whole thing." Whether or not Victor reads the Planet or goes to the website, hey may or may not be aware of the cub reporter who has, recently, managed to land a lot of high-profile interviews with Captain Marvel and Power Girl. "I'm not here on anyone's orders but my own, and my conscience. You see."

He appraises the metal Titan, "Gar can be very persistant while also constantly running circles around the elephant in the room. Most people who don't know him will think he's just being a goof or annoying and will write him off... but you're not most people, Victor. Right?"

Victor Stone has posed:
Vic sits back, the booth seat creaking slightly as he shifts his considerable weight. His non-metal hand goes to his forehead as he stares upward at the replica batmobile's suspension. "I'm not /mad/ at Gar, okay? I just... look, the Titans were a family to me, and they were the second one that completely fell apart. Being around them and not being a family anymore hurts even more than not being around them in the first place. But listen, if anybody from the Titans want to talk to me, they can just come talk to me. It's not like I get out much." He sighs and pushes the blizzard cup back, a bit dented from his grip.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I can understand the feeling," Terry says with visible empathy, "But you are wrong, families don't stop being families just because they split up, you know. It just makes it harder."

He rests his hands on the table and begins counting with his finger. "Kori is there. Donna just got back and she's got some /major/ revelations that I am not going to spoil, because I think she should tell you in person. Caitlin drops by as often as her doctor-person-activities let her. Even Nightwing shows up," no first name, obviously. "Raven and Gar are there. Only Wally is missing," of course, the Titan with no secret identity, "But it's only a matter of time for him to get wind and show up. There are also some new faces," of which he was one.

"But I'm going to be frank here. I do have a dog in this fight indirectly. I do believe the Titans are the future, and that they're always needed. Also..." he pauses, and frowns. Gar is very reticent to use the actual words. He shouldn't. "I am /very/ close to Gar," he hopes the emphasis will convey what he means, because Gar seems to be allergic to even say the word 'boyfriend', "and let's just say I try to look out after his happiness." He finishes his blizzard and then tosses a twenty onto the table next to the blizzard glass- one hell of a tip.

"Your family's waiting for you. If you think you're going to pass, you might want to tell that to Gar to his face instead of letting him agonize why you don't answer." He gives the Titan a smile and a raised eyebrow, again, "Your family deserves to hear it from the horse's mouth, you know."

Victor Stone has posed:
Victor shakes his head slowly, waves the waiter over, and indicates that he'd like a bag. Ordered three hoagies, ate half a hoagie. Embarrassing. "Okay, that's... a lot," he says with a slow blink. "I feel kind of weird about just showing up at the tower. Like, what do you say? 'Honey, I'm hoooome?' It feels like it's putting a lot of pressure on it." He shrugs, causing a slight mechanical squeak as something rubs something else the wrong way. "I don't suppose there are, like, missions? Or patrols or something?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Donna showed up after being absent for years in some far-off land, dude. Just show up. Bring pizza. All will be forgiven." He smirks, and takes a final sip of the remains of the blizzad. He looks at it for a second and says, "I like it, but totally inaccurate." He shrugs and slides off the booth.

"Far be it from me to tell you what to do, Victor. But if I were you, I'd stop overthinking, and I'd start just doing. By the way?" He says, stuffing his hands back in his pockets, "I /am/ actually fan. Maybe I'll see you around, eh?" He nods and turns around, heading or the exit.

Mission accomplished? Time will tell.