13297/Ghost of the Rooftops

Ghost of the Rooftops
Date of Scene:	07 November 2022
Location:	Kingston - Miagani Island
Synopsis:	Robbie Reyes isn't the least obvious of visitors to a rooftop. Talking with Phoebe, the two reveal that they can sense each other -- Phoebe sounds like cellos, and Robbie feels like ice between Phoebe's neck vertebrae.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Robbie Reyes

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Ninjas may have been 'Handed' a defeat by the combined Defenders, Birds and Bats, but that doesn't mean that Gotham sleeps -- and neighter does its defenders.

    Balm was taking a short break, building her strength back up after having to repair her own spleen, and was looking over the emergency hospital, where some of the ninnjas who were recovered alive may have been taken. She sits on the edge of a building, her hood down but domino on, blue optics overlooking the streets below as ambluences and police cars unload.

    She's leaning against -- what else -- a cargoyle. Yes, a cargoyle. It's shaped like a 1966 Corvette, with bat wings.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Roberto Reyes is many things, but stealthy is not generally one of them. Phoebe's probably aware of him long before he opens his mouth to speak; the clang of his boots on the fire escape, the crunch of gravel, the scent of clove smoke dispersing in the crisp night air.

"Hey." He eyes the cargoyle curiously, wandering up close before nudging it with the toe of his boot. "Took me a while to find you." A glance goes to Phoebe. "You doin' okay?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Hey." Phoebe greets back to Robbie, and she breathes out in a huff.

    "I'm supposed to be on patrol. The fact that you found me fills me with rage." Phoebe states, though it's obvious she is not filled with rage. She tults her head back and looks over Roberto with a careful eye -- behind her optics, anyway -- and then she motions to the seat next to her.

    "I'm all right. Did my job."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
He's looking a little better than when he left the fight -- and Gotham -- for a couple of hours to cool off. Literally. Because having the Batman get in his face like that, and Eli only barely brought under control moments before..

"If it helps at all, I cheated." He drops down beside her, and rests his forearm against his thigh so the clove smoke twists away from them both. Phoebe's nudged lightly with his elbow. "You're pretty easy to find. Kind of like.. this music I can almost hear. Can *feel*, if I'm near you." He lifts his hand with the clove still scissored between two inked fingers.

Then he drags off it, and watches her. "You all healed up? Don't need to find a doctor for you?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'm my own doctor, Robbie." Phoebe gives a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.

    "By the time the sun comes up properly, I'll be healed up like nothing ever touched me tonight." she explains, and she stretches her shoulder.

    "So. I'm like music, huh? What kind of music do I almost sound like?" she questions in amusement. "You... you do give me a feeling. But it's like... having ice between the discs of my neck. And then pouring something hot over it."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Don't they say something about.. bein' your own doctor's a bad thing? Uh." He frowns as he tries to remember the expression. But it isn't coming to him.

His expression softens. "Still hurts though, I'll bet." *flick, flick* at the end of his clove to loosen the ash accumulating on the tip. "And.. yeah. Music." He huffs a little at the request for elucidation. "Like a.." He clears his throat, a little awkward. "Like a cello." Pause. "That's what it's called, right? The big.." He gestures. "Looks like a violin on steroids?" Smooth, Robbie.

Her description of him makes him laugh. "I ain't sure that's a compliment."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Yeah, the cellos. Like what the Piano Guys use... if... you watch classical takes on pop tunes." Phoebe purses her lips a moment, and she gives a small smile, and she rubs the back of her neck.

    And she shakes her head "I mean, I'm not sure if it was meant as a complement, really, just sorta 'this is what you feel like.'" she explains. "Mostly if I heal people, I get tastes. Like Red Robin makes me want to track down oreos. One of the Teen Titans makes me want birthday-cake-flavored things. It's weird." she smiles, and she rubs the back of her neck again.

    "I did once work with someone who, when I healed him, made it taste like I was licking an ashtray."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
That's three times she's rubbed her neck. By his count, at least. Not that Robbie isn't listening to the words coming out of her mouth, but. "You, uh. You're." He gestures to his own neck while watching Phoebe's profile.

The thing about oreos earns an intrigued look; but the licking an ashtray wipes it out, and replaces it with a "blech," and his tongue stuck out. She might catch a flash of silver barbell before it disappears again. Like he's one to talk, with the amount he smokes.

"I guess it could be worse then, huh?" He waggles his brows at her.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "It's a nervous action I promise!" Phoebe states, bringing her hand down. "Has been since I was a kid and I saw people do it on TV." she explains, and she firmly sets her hands on her lap, and she looks up at the 'blech', watching the tongue a moment, and then she presses her lips together, and levers a look over to Robbie.

    "How could it be worse?" she questions with a wry smile.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Something about Phoebe's admission of nervousness makes him smile. Just ever so slightly. A glimpse of a dimple, and then it's gone. He smokes, big shoulders hunched, and watches her while she talks.

"Well, I dunno. Dirt? Could taste like dirt. Sewage." He makes a moue with his mouth. "Dog farts." Then flicks the green eye of the mismatched pair to her, and watches her with a sly look. "You want me to go on?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Ugh... dog farts. Thanks, that's certainly a thought that's going to keep me up thinking." she states, and she gives a 'blech' face. Her tongue is not pierced. And she caught that dimple more than once, but she's not going to comment on it. Some guys get sensitive about that stuff.

    "No, no, your point's made. I'll take the good-food-desiring-hunger thing rather than think of needing the smell of dogfarts." she sets her lips in a tight line, and then she huffs out, her shoulders going slack.

    "What a mess that was."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"De nada." The dimple makes a reappearance, despite his best efforts to keep a straight face. "You're very welcome."

He's silent for a few seconds, then. Maybe thinking about what she's said, or maybe thinking about nothing at all. "Mmhmm," he muses when she mentions the evening's activities. "Got the job done, though." Even if Batman got his panties in a twist about Robbie's.. predilection toward murder. "Glad we had you along, considering I can't heal anyone for shit."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Well I also got in a fair bit of trouble with the boss. 'Cause I'm not supposed to use a lot of magic while I'm on 'his time'." Phoeb points out to Robbie, and she reaches over, and very gently punches his shoulder. Very gently. To make it absolutely obvious to Eli that she's not hurting him.

    "He just wants what's best for Gotham. He worries about things showing up in the city that some of the non-powered heroes can't handle."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie looks up and over at that, with a curious browraise. The explanation seems to satisfy him, though. Snorting softly, he drags off his clove again and tips his head back to exhale the fragrant smoke skyward in one long, slow stream.

"Yeah. Makes sense." And he isn't just being flippant, either. "I don't hunt out this way, anyhow. If it wasn't for Colleen and them bein' involved, I wouldn't have even been there tonight. You know? But I'll try to.." He looks away, but she can see him work his jaw slightly. "Be good, in future."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a nod, and she looks down at her hands. "That's really all we can ask. We put a lot of work into Gotham. I've been trying to improve the city for four years now." she comments quietly, "It's my home, and it has problems, but you also find some of the kindest, bravest people here." she grins, and she looks over to Robbie.

    "It's my home." she repeats quietly.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Her words hit home in a strange, and slightly uncomfortable way. It's obvious, from how the tension sneaks back into his shoulders and how he keeps his gaze focused on the edge of the roof at their feet, save for a brief detour to glance at Phoebe's hands.

"Well," he decides. "I ain't either kind or brave. But I respect you. And I respect him. So I'll.. I'll try to do better."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... you are both kind and brave. You drove into a bad part of Gotham, at night, to rescue my grandpa bike from its nitwit owner." Phoebe points out, looking over to Robbie.

    "That counts. Even if you save one person. Even if that person's yourself, it's still saving someone."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
His words do not appear to have been any attempt at fishing for compliments or false modesty. And it's hard to say how *bothered* he actually is by the thought of being neither kind nor brave. Going by the furrowing of his brows and the way he seems to have drawn into himself slightly?

Well, more bothered than he's letting on.

"Bad part of Gotham?" he repeats, daring a flicker of a smile as he glances back up at Phoebe. "Does Gotham *have* bad parts? Figured it was all just.. Gotham." He's quiet for a few seconds, thinking. Then, "How's the bike doin', by the way?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    They weren't fishing for compliments, but Phoebe was horribly complementary. She gives a slight smile, leaning a little bit towards Robbie as he withdraws, and then she draws back a little bit, looking back over the expanse between them and the hospital.

    "It's running like a champ. Thanks, again, for coming to my rescue."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The lean toward him makes him glance away with that touch of awkwardness that seems completely out of place on such a self-possessed young man. He fiddles with the clove between his fingers, then takes a lingering drag off it.

"Sorry I wasn't there to hand it off to you. Something came up with Gabe, so.." He too watches the hospital, though his mind seems to be elsewhere. "Let me know if you have any more trouble with it, yeah? Ain't often I get to work on antiques like that." Okay, now he's teasing her a little.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe gives a little smile, though some of the expression is lost behind the mask she wears. It's not often she gets to engage with someone as both The Bat and The person.

    It was kind of nice.

    "Gabe's your younger sibling, right? What're they like?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Some, but not all. His eyes drift lower, grazing her mouth for a brief moment when she smiles. Robbie, of course, doesn't bother with a mask; but once he goes flame up, good luck connecting the dots on his identity.

"My brother, yeah." He digs his teeth into his lower lip, then releases it with a flash of unexpected warmth. "He's, uh. Just started his second year of college? Engineering degree. Smart, kind of insufferable at times." But it's said fondly; it's clear the boys are close. "You got any brothers or sisters or..?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... that all depends on how you look at my life, I guess." Phoebe admits quietly, turning to look back over the city.

    "The Bats are a family. Red Hood, Red Robin, Regular Robin, Nightwing, Batgirl and Oracle, Huntress, Batwoman... Misfit and our mentor in magic. In that I've got a lot of siblings. Some closer than others. Red Robin and I are probably the closest, and I do look at him as an older brother and role model? I grew up adopted by a nice couple, but I was the only kid. My extended family was my church. But when I lived in New York... I had one. Adopted. She lived in the UK though." she brings one leg up.

    "Like everything else in my life, 'do I have siblings' is stupidly complicated."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Family's family," Robbie murmurs, bringing the clove to his lips once more before putting it out on the edge of the roof. "Don't matter where it came from." A few lazy tendrils of smoke filter from his nose and lips before they disappear.

"Anyway, I should leave you. To your patrol, I mean. Wouldn't want you to miss out on the action." He hitches his chin toward the hospital, and dimples a quick grin.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe opens her mouth, and then closes it, her lips pressing into a thin smile.

    "Well. I suppose you're right on that." she states quietly, looking up at his dimples again and then she gives a sigh as she hops up.

    "Looks like they're all stablized, at least -- which means I can head home."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie's climbing to his feet at the same time, playing it cool. His hands disappear into his jeans' pockets, making his shoulders hike up awkwardly. Cool, yet awkward. Well, more awkward than cool, honestly. He caught the aborted reply, and doesn't quite seem sure if he should ask about it.

Instead, "You, uh. Need a ride home?" She probably doesn't. But he asks anyway, unnecessarily.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "No, if I show up for my nightly report with a visitor in tow, the boss gets mad. And he's already had to throat-punch a ninja tonight." Phoebe mentions, crossing her arms a moment.

    "We should hang out sometime when we're not fighting ninjas or supernatural stuff. You like books?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Yeeeeah, I don't think he'd be thrilled to see me, either," Robbie agrees, sweeping his gaze across the cityscape briefly, then letting it rove back to Phoebe again. Where she's standing with her arms held against her, and he's briefly distracted.

"I like books, sure. You askin' me on a nerd date?" He grins again impishly, watching her like he forgot he was supposed to be leaving.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Why does it have to be a nerd date? Would it be different if we went to the planetarium, or the Antiquities Museum? I mean I could also invite you out to this guerilla punk show that's going to be in an abandoned parking garage next week." Phoebe answers back to Robbie in amusement.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Those all sound pretty nerdy to me," Robbie points out glibly, until she gets to 'guerilla punk show'. "Okay, you got my attention." His tonguetip runs along a canine, and pauses at the tip a moment. "You bluffing, or is there actually a show next weekend? I.. don't have anything against books, honest."

No, he's just got a reputation to maintain. A reputation as a pierced, tattooed, leather wearing street punk who sets fire to his problems.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I lived with a demon pretending to be an exorcist who grew up during the British Punk era. I hear all sorts of stuff." Phoebe shrugs. "Also. College. Gotham. Weirdness." she rotates a hand around in the air.

    "I got airdroped the locale.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
It's not the strangest thing he's ever heard, and somehow.. well, he can picture it. Phoebe and the not-exorcist.

"You're on." His mirth fades to a faltering smile, and he tries to catch her eyes behind the mask; the dim outline of her face in the near-darkness. "Just text me the details. I'll, uh. I'll see you then."

He starts to pull away, then seems to change his mind mid-motion, and eases in close instead. The scent of him is sharp and distinctive: leather, engine oil, clove smoke. Something else, too, like burning metal: a city on fire, brimstone and death.

Then his gloved hand at her cheek, just barely making contact before he attempts to lean in and kiss her.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "I'll text you the details, not a problem. See you then." Phoebe states, and she appears to be distracted by something she's seeing on her Hud, turning away slightly. She didn't catch his ease into her personal space until it's too late. Leather and engine oil and clove smoke above the hot, burning metal, the fire, brimstone, adn the sweet, cloying smell of death brushing against her black pepper, roses, and the sharp tang of citrus.

    She feels the gloved hand on her cheek. She tenses, all of her muscles suddenly freezing and contracting at once, her heart rising to her throat, and as Robbie leans in to kiss her she chokes out a strangled whisper:

    "Please don't hurt me!"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Somehow, this has all gone completely wrong. Sideways and upside-down-- and for a brief moment, Phoebe can *feel* the demon's presence trying to assert itself. Push his human host aside so Eli can capitalise on the girl's abject terror. Why?

Well, so he can torment her, of course. He does love hurting people, and *this* one he could have all kinds of fun with.

Robbie, however, isn't having any of it. He jerks away from her abruptly, pulling his hand back like he's been burned. Then trying to reach for her-- then pulling away again as he realises that's a bad idea. "Shit. Shit, I'm sorry. I-- fuck. I'm sorry."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe breathes out. She can *feel* that surge when Eli tries to push Robbie out of the way to get at her, and she tries to center herself. She doesn't want to hurt Robbie either. She also doesn't want to go over the edge, and she shakes her head.

    "No, no, it's... it's fine. I'm fine. I just... there's very, very few people who can just... touch. After what I've been through. It's... I'm just not ready yet." she whispers, and shakes her head, and she holds up her hands.

    "Let's just both take a breath. Okay. I'm okay. Are you okay?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The tug of war's still evident in the way he holds that brittle tension in his shoulders, his jaw; any trace of warmth is long gone from his hawkish features. He scrapes his hands over his face and digs his fingers into his eyes as he tries to breathe through it and maintain control.

"I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what I was fuckin' thinking." His voice is soft, shaky, and he drags his fingers through overlong curls. "I'm fine. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm a fuckin' idiot."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "You're not okay." Balm states quietly, and she steps close, looking to steer Robbie from the edge of the building.

    "Robbie... I... I only let certain people touch me because of what happened to me in the past. /I/ have the problem. You were thinking you were going to kiss the cute, weird girl who invited you to look at books and punk shows. And that's normal. And... given other circumstances, maybe it would have worked." she states quietly, and she reaches up, her gloved hands going to take his from his curls.

    "... if I wasn't broken."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
A fall like that, he'd survive without too much trouble anyway. Broken neck, shattered pelvis, maybe a crushed skull depending on the impact; but he'd be right as rain within a few days. Curse and a blessing, surely, not being able to actually *die* until Eli's done with him.

He allows Phoebe to remove his hands from their deathgrip on his hair, but makes no further attempts to touch her in return. None whatsoever. Just his mismatched eyes holding her own steadily. "Sounds to me like it's someone else who caused the problem. You probably better never tell me who." This time, his brief smile has a hint of cruelty to it.

Then it's gone, and his expression softens a hair. "I want to know why you think you're broken. If you want to tell me."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "He's dead. He turned into a giant scorpion made of sand and dead bodies." Phoebe states. There's no mirth in her voice.

    She holds his hands thoguh, so that he can't scratch at himself, or hit, or pull his own hair. She takes a deep breath, and she brings her dark eyes -- though hidden by the blue lenses of her mask -- but to face Robbie.

    "He made it so that I was pushed to the point where my injuries were too much for my healing power to deal with for a time. He drugged me at levels that would kill a normal human being. He beat me, and bound me to a wall, in the dark, for days at a time." Phoebe explains.

    Her hands are shaking.

    "So. I don't like being touched. Not even my friends can hug me. My little sister couldn't. It took months to feel comfortable with my best friends being too close. So..."

    She gently releases Robbie's hands.

    "... and every time I do get close to someone, Robbie, something terrible happens to them. And I don't want that for you. Or for Gabe to lose you."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Well, that's too bad. About the giant corpse-scorpion, that is. Not that it'd necessarily stop Robbie from tracking it down; he's been to some strange places, and seen some strange shit. And this thing.. is probably far from the strangest.

"Hey." He can feel her hands shaking; he doesn't take his eyes off her veiled ones, even as she describes what he did to her. "Hey, it's okay. I won't touch you again. But you gotta promise me something, yeah?" He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets once they're released and blows out a steadying breath, which fogs the chill air between them.

"Don't give me that line again. About.. terrible things happening to me if I get close to you. You save that for the muggles; I ain't easy to kill." He shifts back and away from her, his expression a little melancholy under the attempt at a smile. "Besides, I don't have the best track record myself."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe opens her mouth, and then she shuts her mouth. She rubs the back of her neck in embarrassment as she tries to think of something.

    "Just fair warning is all. Apparently everyone I've ever said 'bad stuff happens' always wants to get closer to prove bad stuff won't happen to them. And then bad stuff happens anyway."

    And she delivers a sidelook over to Robbie.

    "... and it's not that I don't want to be touched. It's... just that... I get scared." she replies quietly.

    "I'm trying."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Thankfully it's dark enough that Phoebe can't spot the blush staining Robbie's freckled cheeks and nose. Probably. The poor kid's mortified at his gaffe.

"Don't got nothing to prove," he informs her in a low, and slightly rough voice. "Just letting you know that it doesn't scare me." He's dead serious. Maybe because he hasn't yet met something that was capable of ending him-- unless one counts that fight he got dragged into at the Gates of Heaven.

"Well, if you still want to talk about books. Or check out this punk show together, you know, as friends." He glances down at his feet, then back up to her. "Just let me know? If not, I.. I get it."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Unfortunately the mask has dark vision and Phoebe can pick up the change in Robbie's skin temperature. But she's going to pretend she doesn't see it for his sake.

    "Robbie, that's not it at all... I just need... y'know. Time. To work out things." she states quietly.

    "... but I'd love to go to the show or out to the bookstore. An' maybe we can talk tattoos or something? I have ideas."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
What, him, feeling a little warm over there? Please, he's cool as a cucumber. Obviously.

Talk of tattoos, however, chases away a little of his unease. "Why, you thinkin' of getting one?" He tries to smile, but.. nope. Still too awkward. He's got the social skills of a wet paper bag on a good day, and this.. is not a good day. And Phoebe's gorgeous, and he's still itching to touch her.

Softly, "I mean, I've got plenty of time. Ain't in a rush." A beat, and then he eases back another step, two; his figure's a tall, lean silhouette in the dark. "Text me. Okay?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "... I have two, actually." Phoebe replies embarrassedly, and she gives a small smile, drawing her hood back up.

    "I'll shoot you a text when I get out of class. Stay outta trouble. That goes double for your grouchy-ass hitchhiker."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Curious as he is, Robbie's not going to push his luck by asking where they are. He simply watches her for a long moment, and snorts in amusement at the comment about his grouchy-ass hitchhiker. Then taps two gloved fingers off his forehead, peels away, and prowls off into the dark with a scrape of his boots on the gravel.

The scent of burning metal and brimstone lingers a little while after his departure, and then fades as well.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    And Phoebe lingers for a moment, looking out over the rooftop in mixed confusion and hurt, and then like the wind and the whift of brimstone, disappears from the rooftop for a very, very sullen motorcycle ride back to the Batcave.

    She's going to leave this conversation out of the nightly report.