13684/Looked Easy in the Movies

Looked Easy in the Movies
Date of Scene:	29 December 2022
Location:	Veronique's Apartment
Synopsis:	Brick breaks into a teen girl's bedroom, pulls a gun on her, calls her a rabid mutant, insults her residence and then stubs out a cigarette on her floor. Cause that's what heroes do.
Cast of Characters:	Brick Bardo, Veronique Lalonde

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Brick Bardo has posed:
     It was a longshot Brick knew that the guys he'd caught with Power Girl were even telling the truth. But one of them had an address back in the city, a rundown apartment building in one of the grimier parts of town. It fit Garish's MO alright as the Lilliputian alien zipped through New York on his hoverbike until he reached the building in question and was presented with a new problem. Doors. Too small to open them he parks the bike under some litter in an alley and looks around for a solution, spotting a steaming airvent above, warm air frosting in the Winter weather. Perfect. He dials back the power on his gun and fires off a couple rounds blasting the vent cover off before he climbs up and heads inside the narrow vent shaft.

     In the movies this always worked perfectly, our hero able to see just fine and quickly identify exactly where they were going. Even back on his world Brick had seen those flicks, always laughing since he knew vents were never that large, but now he was so small it was the perfect solution. Except it was dark. And vents weren't exactly marked by room number...and the dust. He realizes quite quickly this particular vent was probably last cleaned never as he begins to squeakily sneeze as he walks along, hot air blowing over him only kicking up more of it all the while.

     "This is great, this is just great. Assholes sent me to die by...AHCHOO...sneezing," he complains to himself through watery eyes as he steps over another vent, a look down not showing any hulking thugs like he was looking for. With a sigh he starts to take another step when the ceiling grate shifts and bends with an ominous creak. Over the years the screws holding it had come loose and now even Brick's slight weight was enough to make it move. "Easy now, just one step and...AAARGH!" he hollers as the vent grate comes loose, left hanging from the ceiling by 1 screw while a 4 inch tall man covered in gray dust drops into the room over wherever the vent lays.

Veronique Lalonde has posed:
Roni has the kind of vibe going on that would make a great mugshot. She was up way too late, ate the wrong things, inhaled worse things, and did Gods knows what between the two. Thankfully her pillow had helped remove much of the make-up. Unfortunately it also looked like she'd been dragged around by the hair by the imaginary noctural gorilla that's the blame for much universal bed head. She's bound so much possibly beautiful red hair up into a stilleto-stuck messy bun that it's a travesty.

Having a staring contest with her reflection in the mirror, one eyelide dipping down to languidly wink and flutter, her hand saws back and forth motions as the foaming toothpaste collects at the corners of her mouth. "Ffrrrrrrggh...blurbablurrrr..."

She nearly inhales the foamy mouth garbles when the sound of a vent crashing down startles a few years off her life. Veronique turns, the fabric of her bad bad t-shirt following a short second later at her rapid speed, the badly fitting boxers giving a cool kung-fu snap sound at the apex of her turn. "Frrrrgghghbht! Frrrrt!" Her eyes are wide, searching...searching...There! She blinks hard and rapidly, eyebrows furrowing as she leans over to peer at the small intruder. Wondering if she's still high as F.

Brick Bardo has posed:
     The bed of course wasn't made, but that didn't bother Brick, the important thing was it made for a much softer landing than other possibilities in the apartment as the vent is situated right above it. He hits the wrinkled sheets and bounces twice before he stops and awkwardly stands on the spongy surface, rumpled covers and blankets creating veritable hills for him as he tries to get his bearings. But it's the sound of wordless panic that gets the majority of his attention, turning to look out the open bedroom door to the bathroom across the hall.

     "Gods they've gone rabid!" Brick cries out as he sees the foaming mouthed monstrosity staring back at him, taking the redhead for another of Garish's homemade mutants that has started to fall apart, it explained the lack of words and all the white foam at least. He jumps atop the highest hill of messily jumbled bedspread and pulls his gun, little clouds of dust still billowing around him making him sniffle and causing his eyes to water as he points it at her, the weapon so small she'd probably have to squint to even tell what it was. "Alright if you've got anything still working between those ears of yours, hands behind your head and on the ground now!" he shouts, his voice amplified by a little device stuck to his throat to turn his squeaky voice audible for normal-sized folks. Needless to say it still didn't help him cut the most imposing figure.

Veronique Lalonde has posed:
Veronique advances on the pest. Surely it's a rat or a big roach. Those damn things have been tap dancing over her head more times than she can count since she skidded into this apartment complex. Brandishing her toothbrush from her mouth, hardly as imposing as a rolling pin or rolled up newspaper, she dribbles the stuff along her floor as she approaches. Her lips curl into a snarl flecked with the white foam. Eyes darting for a good shoe, something with a heel, to lay into the little monster. A little monster that talks.

With a confused snort and her tongue partially protruding for a really good derpy look, she stops and drips. Jeez that thing is fast, and articulate, and is armed! "Tabarnac!" The toothbrush is flung upwards, along with her hands. "Qu'est-ce que dans la merde!" She rattles off a string of other colourful trash edged Quebecois like the sounds of a bin being noisily emptied and runs that battery out before switching to English. The urge to scratch at a zillion itches that break out over her skin is crazy to be speaking with someone so smol. "Hey! Hey, I'm paid up! I ain't stolen nuthin!" Today. "What gives!? Did I get biggened-rayed?"

Brick Bardo has posed:
     The gun tracks as she approaches and Brick considers firing a warning shot before the monstrosity starts to...was it speaking? Foamy snarls and regional French dialects may as well be one and the same but when she starts to speak English his dusty brows furrow up. It didn't SOUND like the inane jabberings of a badly mutated brain falling apart at the neurons. He doesn't lower the action figure sized weapon though, she was still the size of a ginger office building looming over him.

     "I ain't the damn landlord I...geeze you pay to live in this place?" Brick side-eyeing the cheap surroundings before focusing on her once more. "You seen any big guys around here? And don't get cute about how everyone is big to me, I mean muscles look like they're about to burst through the skin types?" he interrogates, sliding down off the hill of bedspread and risking a glance down to the floor taking his eyes off her a second as if trying to figure a safe spot to jump down that won't land him in dirty laundry or an old pizza box.

Veronique Lalonde has posed:
Veronique opens her yap, and it's just there on the tip of her tongue, about to slur off something about size relations. Her tongue arches against her upper palate, probably temporarily the freshest smelling place in this crap heap of a place. Her raised hands, the fingers arch her painted and chipped nails. She watches the little figure of authority with eyes that catishly narrow. Her brain switches gears, her toes curl upon the dirty floor.

There's certainly a real anthropological sampling of things on her apartment's floor. Discarded boxes from jewelry stores, shoe stores, a few of the latest Uphone from Peach or Apricot corp. Not real merchandise, but the stuff they definitely came in. Lots of tetris-shaped monoliths to be a cool platformer for a vidja game. The only thing that rivals those would be the empty food containers from take-aways. Like...lots. Veronique's stomach conveniently makes whale songs around this time. Thankfully not too much dirty laundry underfoot. Most of that is slung over chairs and door knobs. Mostly the trashy and clubbish kind.

"Hey, gotta live somewhere's. Could afford a real nice place if it was shoebox sized." she says poutily. She huffs. "Seen a few meatheads. They only stay for an hour or two and sound like they're flinging each other or their poop at one another at any goddamn hour. You're only off by a few dozen meters though...Hey, you some sort of lit-...You some sort of private cock? Scuze moi...Private Dick? Something in it for me if I had seen 'em?"

Brick Bardo has posed:
     Brick tears his gaze off the floor and back to the what he's realizing is a girl really, not even an adult, or barely one if so. He was pulling a gun on a teenage girl and a fleeting sense of shame runs through him no matter how tall she was. "I hate this planet," he growls, reluctantly taking his finger off the trigger and slowly raising the gun to point at the ceiling before he holsters it under his coat. A coat he proceeds to grab the unbuttoned edges of and give a few good flaps to get most of the dust off him amidst some coughing. Nevermind that meant it was going on her bed.

     "Meh I'll check it out but think the whole thing is a wild goose chase. And no I ain't private, I'm just a bit outside my district by a few thousand light-years is all. And hey you want some Arcturan credit for your time sure, here you go kid, don't spend it all in one place," Brick 'generously' sharing what looks like a bright blue dollar bill, or rather what probably looks like confetti so small she'd need a microscope to see whatever face might be printed on it as he lets it drop onto the bedsheet, sure to be lost in no time.

     Deciding to chance it he hops off the bed and lands nimbly on the thin carpeted floor, only making her seem all the larger and putting him in amongst the forest of boxes, faint odors hanging low to the ground from the various food containers making him crinkle his nose. Hoping to offset the aroma the next thing she sees he's pulling out the world's tiniest cigarette, a snap and crackle of a lighter as he starts to smoke though it was unlikely she'd even be able to smell it. "Sorry 'bout the scare. You oughta clean up around here though, get yourself worse pests than me in here," he critiques pointing at the garbage with his cigarette before he starts to move like he's just going to walk around her.

Veronique Lalonde has posed:
Veronique licks at her chops, clearing off some of the toothpaste, her throat working at the minty tang that really works on opening up the old olfactory department. She's having a hard time seeing whatever passes as currency that's on offer, cocking her head to the side, some hair spilling out of her spaghetti bun. But with the raygun or whatever it is holstered, that seems to mean she's off the hook at least. Her hands go to her hips. "Hey if you've got a way off planet, let me know if you've got a cargo space large enough." she jokes and wrinkles her nose.

This is no good for conversing, and her sockets hurt from squinting so much. The phrase ~little green men~ slides stage right to stage left in her brain, but doesn't make it to her lips. She squats down on her haunches like an animal and leans in over Brick. Sniffing lightly and owlishly inspecting. "Never here long enough to matter or notice the bugs and rats. Sometimes they actually move the empty boxes to the corners of the room if I leave enough inside..." she murmers, almost breathing all over the interstellar intruder. "You're gonna have a big problem on your hands if you're after those lunks down the hall. Unless your popgun is packing a punch."

Brick Bardo has posed:
     It probably wasn't intentional, maybe, but as Veronique squats down and adjusts herself she fills up more of the space in front of Brick and between the door, making walking around her less an option than under her, something that he seems reluctant to do as he draws up short no pun intended. Hairs on the back of his neck go on end as the girl leans in even closer casting her shadow over him and now he too can get a strong whiff of mint with every word she speaks as she inspects him, reminding him maybe JUST a bit too much of a cat he'd run into already as he can actually hear her nose sniff like a jet engine warming up to his ears.
     "My ship couldn't fit your head much less the rest of you. And I get in enough trouble for property destruction back home without bringing back something that can wreck a city, sorry toots. Now quit worrying about me and move aside, my gun can tear an arm off, what do they call you, humans without a problem. Besides, I'm just gonna take a look. No one'll even notice," he assures with a growl and a long drag on his cig or the alien equivalent of one at least. Brick SHOULD be stealthy at his size, but then given his general demeanor and the fact he fell through her air vent hollering that quality is a bit dubious at best.

Veronique Lalonde has posed:
Veronique darts her sniffer in closer, and pulls back, like an animal testing the distance of something to jump to or pounce on. The pupils of her big eyes fluctuating. This kind of calisthenics makes her stomach grumble about being empty yet again. The smoke from the cigarette makes her nostrils flare and she tentatively pivots to allow passage to the space beneath her door frame. Not so much freckled flesh and musky fabrics in the way. "You talk funny." she unironically brays. More of her hair comes loose, flopping down like tentacles of a sea anenome or squid here and there, threatening to tangle or flap upon Brick. "I'm not fat! I could fit I bet." she pouts. "If you're a hallucination, I guess I could do worse than introduce myself I guess. Veronique. Heh...toots, you sound like a film I saw once. Was pretty good. Okay, well, I gotta eat or you're gonna start to look and smell good. Watch out for Mr. Whiskers in 302 on the way out. He's a mean sonuvabeeetch. Old lady lets him prowl this floor when her soaps is on the tube."

Brick Bardo has posed:
     "This whole PLANET talks funny ya ask me. And acts funny," he can't help but add as the girl continues to make him nervous with her almost feral movements to sniff him. None of the other humans he'd met so far had acted like this. But then he recalled her speaking funny when he first arrived, another language. Perhaps a regional thing. At least he tries to tell himself that as she keeps her head down low, her yet unwashed hair draping in front of him in places like a series of curtains, having little doubt she was intentionally making him go through them just to amuse herself. His steps quickening a bit as he hears that grumble, especially when she mentions him starting to look and smell good.

     "Freaking man-eating cats, toads, dogs, now the girls too, wonderful. Look you hear any gunfire just keep your head down. I aim up a lot so you should be fine if it comes to that," he shares, the most kindly advice he can offer...before he drops the stub of his cigarette from his lips right onto her carpet and stubs it out. It was little more than a speck of dust but the principle of it...before she can protest though he offers back, "And the name's Brick. Brick Bardo. Keep safe kiddo and clean your room," he paternally advises before he slips right under the doorframe.