14030/Robbie meets Idu

Robbie meets Idu
Date of Scene:	04 February 2023
Location:	Apartment 3A (Phoebe's Apartment)
Synopsis:	What it says on the tin. Robbie Reyes comes over to Phoebe's apartment and meets her 'pet', Idu. Idu is not thrilled to meet Robbie, maybe it's something about the whole Eli situation?
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Robbie Reyes

---

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    As some things do, it starts with a text message:

    >Hey! Made ENTIRELY TOO MUCH SOUP. You want some? Lemon-Ginger and Orzo. Spicy!

    Just an invitation for soup and hanging out on a cold day in Gotham.

    The Curio seemed to be becoming used to Robbie showing up. The front door was rarely locked these days for him, and the back door sort of seemed resigned to letting him use the key that Phoebe gave him for it if he desired to park in the alley to avoid the snowplows damaging themselves on his car.

    3A is currently brightly lit. There's cheery music playing over a smart speaker on the wall, it smells of ginger and citrus that has nothing to do with Phoebe, who is wearing the fuzzy cat slippers, yoga pants with rainbow colored goats on them and a sweatshirt, her hair in a peacy colored hair-wrap as she moves around her kitchen, bumping drawers closed with her hips as she sings out to the classic 'Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na' by My Chemical Romance (she's a dork) while a large stock pot simmers on her stove.

    And on her couch, in a dead snore, is a dog.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Today's a good soup day if Robbie's ever met one. It's cold as moose butt out there, and reaching that charming point of the winter season before the melt, where the remaining patches of stubborn snow have acquired a muddy, road salted crust that increases the general dreariness by about thirty-five percent. And considering this is *Gotham*, that's pretty damn dreary.

He does indeed come in via the back door and the little stairwell, and trudges up while waving off the lingering scent of clove smoke that's trying to cling to him.

Then a couple of quick raps on the door before he jams his hand back into his jacket pocket like the other one, and paces restlessly.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Restless pacing? Clove smoke? The slight whiff of BRIMSTONE perhaps? The knock on the door causes the dog to rise up, rolling over onto his stomach. The sight hound with the curled-over tail tilts his head, ears flapping a moment before hehops off the couch and begins to stalk the door.

    "Hey! C'mon in -- you want bread or crackers with the soup?" she calls out, knowing it's RObbie behind the door. She can sense it. She may sound like cellos still to him, but that prickling cold feeling has become something more like the balm to a burn.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Hand on the door, he pauses a beat or two when he picks up on.. something. Something he hasn't felt before. And considering his demon-gifted 'soul sense' is less a finely tuned awareness than simply a feeling that *pulls* at him to greater or lesser degrees-- well, the something could be *anything*.

Robbie lets himself in cautiously, shoulder first and then the rest of him: predictably clothed in black and more black. Some metal band tee and shredded, snug fitting jeans. Battered leather jacket, driving gloves and what looks like a red and black racing helmet hooked on two fingers by its chin strap. It's bigger and bulkier than a motorcycle helmet, with a narrow visor that can be pulled down over the wearer's eyes.

He pauses at the animal's approach, cautious. Then glances to Phoebe. "Uhh. Bread? Also, hey."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Dog.

    It was definitely the dog he was sensing. If Phoebe was cellos this dog was an ill-tuned trombone. Or something equally flat and at the same time menacing. The dog's fur poofs out, and the hackles rise up as he bares teeth before --

    "--IDU." Phoebe hisses, and then she gives a soft explaination, the language harsh in its stops, and the dog pauses, ears coming up. It looks to Phoebe. It looks to Robbie, blue eyes looking puzzled as its head tilts, and then it gives a snort.

    "I'm sorry Robbie I didn't think--" she begins, taking down a loaf of French bread.

    "This is Idu. He's my *desher-iwiw*... which means nothing to you hold on--" she winces, and then she sets the bread to the counter, and steps to the edge of the itchen, a couple scant feet from where the face-off was occurring.

    "Idu, this is Robbie. He's..." she pauses a moment, and looks to Robbie. "Special to me." she finishes, and then she motions to Idu.

    "Desher were hounds traditionally used by my people to... ah... hunt dangerous supernatural creatures. Kind of like a pointer hound." she explains. "And don't let him fool you, he understands English perfectly." she explains, and then, as if deciding on what to do she goes up to the balls of her feet and leans over a moment, then her ears turn dark, her cheeks darken, and she just sort of... deflate a little bit.

    "... new helmet?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Well, she calls it a desher-iwiw but it looks to Robbie like a dog. And, "Dogs don't like me much," he confides. There's some disappointment buried in there under the street tough facade. This seems to be a common theme for him.

The tall mechanic backs off a step or two as Phoebe arrives to deal with the 'dog', and his mismatched eyes rove back to the girl when she explains Idu's purpose in life. Well, ostensibly anyway.

"Better behave myself, then." One side of his mouth quirks in a lopsided smile. But he's heavily distracted by Phoebe blushing up a storm while she checks out his.. helmet? At least, he's pretty sure she's checking out the helmet. "Naw, had it a while." He glances over his shoulder, just to be sure it isn't something behind him, then back to the girl. "What's wrong?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It is in fact a dog. And it looks like it has OPINIONS about Robbie, possibly his parentage, and the horse he rode in on, but he gives a SNORT.

    "Ah... it's probably not *you* that he doesn't like--" Phoebe replies. The dog snorts again.

    She breathes out though at his lopsided smile, and the joke about behaving himself (Idu offers an additional *SNORT*... a grunt... and then his ears go up as he turns back to the duo.

    "Wrong? Nothing's wrong I just... y'know." she mumbles a moment, her fingers tapping against the outside of her thighs a moment before she goes up to the balls of her feet again, and provided Robbie doesn't move away she's gonna kiss his cheek, right along the jaw!

    "I'm happy to see you?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie's parentage is impeccable, he'll have Idu know; though one supposes that Eli could be considered a part of the mix, there. Being both his uncle and the progenitor of his death-defying demonic abilities. And technically he 'rode in' on about nine hundred or so horses, give or take.

"You know what I mean," he murmurs, taking a chance on holding out a gloved hand to the animal, palm up. Though he won't attempt to touch him.

Right about then the kiss lands on his cheek, and he looks the girl up and down in her fuzzy slippers and rainbow goat yoga pants. "Don't believe you," he tells her with some uncertainty. "Food smells good, though. What'd you make?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "And dogs, cats, birds, small animals have a tendency to like me. Even Damian's more interesting pets." Phoebe remarks quietly.

    "Ah, ginger lemon soup. Like the kind I dropped off before. This one has some galangal in it though, and fresh cilantro to go in right before serving. And Phoebe reaches into her pocket, and then drops something in Robbie's outstretched hand. It looks like a small, oversmoked sausage.

TTHAT has Idu's attention. He comes a little bit closer. His head tilts, long ears paying attention, blue eyes set on Robbie's palm.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
By the look on his face, Robbie's not had ginger-lemon soup before; but he's intrigued by the idea. He sets his helmet down on the shelf cluttered with magical supplies, and sinks down on the couch. Knees spread apart, he examines the object that was dropped into his hand for a moment or two-- before concluding it's some kind of dog treat. And holding it out to Idu with a soft clicking of his tongue.

"So you're somethin' like the pied piper, huh?" he teases, briefly watching Phoebe over his shoulder before returning his attention to the 'dog'.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Something like that. Might have something to do with the fact that my unbound aura, I'm told, feels like I'm the weird lovechild that Mr. Rogers and Mary Poppins never had. Which just makes me think they never read the Mary Poppins books." Phoebe reflects a moment, and the dog flicks its ears, and looks to Robbie, and just... sits a moment, as if trying to make a decision, and he appears to grumble something, growling, making a 'oowoel' sound.

    And the dog comes up to Robbie, and lowers his ears, flat out to either side, eyeballing the treat, but at least in gentle headpat range.

    Phoebe meanwhile spoons a bowl of soup, and tosses some fresh cilantro over it, with a piece of bread and a spoon, and brings it out to Robbie.

    "Idu's like me. He came out of the sand at the village where I was born when Zatanna and I were sealing it against intrusion."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Don't know nothin' about auras, but.." He wiggles his fingers, holding the treat out on his still-gloved palm and within easy reach. "You? Mary Poppins?" He looks up and over as Phoebe approaches with the bowl of soup. Cilantro, a staple of traditional Mexican cooking; his mouth quirks upward slightly in approval.

Or maybe that's just some unrelated thought that occurrs to him when he tries to reconcile Mary Poppins with Phoebe Beacon. Either way, he looks quietly pleased.

"Here you go, buddy." If Idu won't approach any closer, then the treat's tossed lightly toward his mouth. "Ain't had him too long, then?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "If you say practically perfect in every way..." Phoebe replies with amusement, and Phoebe gives a grin, and a brief touch to Robbie's shoulder as she goes to fix herself a bowl of soup. Idu catches the meat nugget neatly in the air, and chews it before he sits down again, his ears pricking up.

    "A Year and change. He was a little pup when he first crawled out. The book I have on the Desher-iwiw -- which, honestly just means 'red dog' -- goes into their breeding program in great detail, training, what specific bloodlines were used for what." she returns, and sits on the other side of the couch, against the arm as she balances the ginger-lemon soup, which also has carrots, potatoes and peas and smells sharp with the lemon and cilantro, and has some orzo pasta floating in it.

    And she considers a minute.

    "You know how you told me, a while back, that when you pick up on me, it's like hearing cellos, right?" she states, and leans back. "If I were to fully unbind my binding tattoo and go full force, I'm not sure if it would be just cellos and louder, or if there would be more instruments. But... at this point? Everything within fifteen feet of me starts to heal. Plants, animals, people. Just does. I don't even have to focus on it. Unfortunately, it also means I'm a great, big, shining Beacon for anything that's looking for a whole bunch of Light in a place." she explains, and then she pokes at Robbie's near knee with her slippered foot.

    "ANd what's this about not believing me that I'm happy to see you?" she gives a very exaggerated sad looking pout. "I'm always happy to see you. You're one of my favorite people."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The treat, at least, seems to lend him some favour with Idu. Though no doubt the animal can still smell demon on him; that bitter, cloying aftertaste like burning metal. He tugs his gloves off one and then the other, and sets them beside him on the couch before collecting his soup with a murmur of thanks.

"He actually know how to hunt down--" He gestures vaguely, probably at himself, as he watches the girl take a seat.. way over there. Pausing at her musing about instruments, spoon hovered a couple of inches from his mouth with a load of piping hot soup, he furrows his brows a little. "Dunno. Guess you'll have to try it some time." Followed by a *sluuuurp*.

And then, with a shrug of his shoulders, "I believe you."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    It was more so that she could face Robbie when talking to him, while balancing soup bowl and bread and not destroying her tastebuds with anything super hot.

    "He can. He's better at sensing it than I am. I've taken him on a few investigations..." Phoebe trails off a moment, and then draws her eyes up to Robbie, and then back down.

    She then stands, and switches positions, and instead of leaning against the end of the couch, she determines Robbie is solid enough to support her and leans against him, giving a slight grin now that he believes her. She makes what can only be described as a 'Happy Phoebe Noise' and then stirs her soup.

    "Im' actually concerned my fully unbound aura might hurt you. It's... a lot of Light and Cosmic Energy to take at once."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Weren't about believing you or not," he elaborates, spooning more soup into his mouth. "Just-- you were blushing, and all." Which is pretty darn adorable. He tears off a hunk of bread to jam in there as well, chewing and swallowing with vigour. The boy can sure eat when he wants to, though god knows where he's putting it all: he's lean to the point of lankiness. Fit and strong, plenty so; but like a hunter for which hunting's not been so good lately.

Another glance goes to Idu, and then a lingering look for Phoebe when she moves over to lean against him. A little of the tension bleeds out of his frame; he resumes eating.

"What's cosmic energy? Kind of curious how the Rider would react to it, if I'm honest."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Same stuff the Angels were made out of, in a way?" Phoebe wrinkles her nose for a moment, and tenses as Idu decides to join them up on the couch. *HE* stays away from Robbie, watching him warily.

    "It's like... the stuff of creation. And as it comes down through existence it can change. Heat. Electrical. An' then you've got The Green, which is plant life and nature power, and the Red which is animal life and blood, the Blue which can be mentalish magic I guess?" she purses her lips "Some of the terminology my ancestors used was weird and doesn't directly translate to stuff today." she explains, dipping some bread into her soup and chewing thoughtfully.

    "It's one of the reasons I was able to stop an angelic weapon. One of the reasons I'm so good at dismissing demons. The Shard, that spark of creation that's inside me someplace --" her right side tenses where he knows those wounds are "it's supposedly a solidified piece of it from the Dawn of Creation. According to one theory, anyway. So I think the Rider's reaction to it would probably safely fall under one of the four 'F's." she remarks, and then holds up her left hand. "Fight it, Flee it, Feed on it or--"

    She zips her lips, her eyes going wide, cheeks puffing out a little bit.

    "... ah. Procreative activities."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "But most likely probably fight it, given what I've seen of Riders."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The thoughtful look he's been wearing shifts to one of gradual understanding, once Phoebe elucidates further. He considers his bowl of soup in silence while she talks. Then a dip and stir with his spoon, before ladling more into his mouth.

"So don't that make you some kind of angel, too?" he asks without looking over to her. Like maybe this changes, in some way he can't quite figure out, how he sees her. Not for the worse; save his general dislike of angels.

The next spoonful of soup stops as it's about to be transported into his mouth-- then completes the journey with a slow swallow that bobs his adam's apple. Procreative activities? He thinks about asking her why the big words for *sex*, but.. doesn't.

"Most likely," he agrees. Then, after an awkward pause, "Soup's real good, babe."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "No. Angels were directly created by The Presence, God-big-G, whatever you wanna call Him. They serve Him, as extensions of His will. Most don't even have any sort of brain of their own. They're just violent fucking roombas of Holy Energy." Phoebe states, and she shrugs her shoulders a moment, and she looks back to Robbie's mismatched eyes. "They don't start to think for themselves until they need to. And then you get to the Archangels. Chas ended up becoming some sort of quasi-Nephelim, which is a half-angel. I knew one, once." Phoebe leans a little heavier against Robbie, and she's quiet for a moment.

    "Thanks, it's one of my favorite recipes. And there's tons of it, so if you have room I'll send you home with some. Good for this awful coldness."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Robbie's not going to pretend to be some kind of authority on angels or God or heaven. Though he does point out, low-voiced, "There was a-- I think he called himself a Throne. Who was following me around and hassling me a while back." He stirs absently at his soup, and looks over again when Phoebe drops Chas's name. Watches her a little while.

"Eli talks about it, sometimes. So I got some idea what they are. Just wasn't sure how you fit into it all." He manages a small smile then, when she mentions having lots of soup. "Gabe'll be happy. He's been askin' about you."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Hope you kicked its ass." Phoebe replies to Robbie regarding the Throne. She'd ripped Wheels apart with her bare hands. She fought Powers and dropped New York City Landmarks on hundreds of them at once to absorb them. She should be terrifying. Instead? She's leaning against Robbie, in her safe space, eating soup.

    Phoebe doesn't seem to be too inclined to talk about her missing father figure, though she pauses in her chewing of bread a moment, contemplative.

    "I don't fit into it." she replies quietly, "I don't... really fit in anywhere. I'm only even in the Bats because Batman didn't want a mentally messed up teenage mage to be living unsupervised and being in The Bats is the easiest way he can keep an eye on me." she admits, and gives a small laugh.

    But the mention of gabe lightens her a little bit.

    "Oh yeah? Well, I'll have to send some of the bread with you then." she leans her head back onto Robbie's shoulder a bit "... did he get any of the cookies I left last time?"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Mmm." Hard to say what that means; his tone's neither here nor there. He tips the bowl slightly, scraping more soup up and swallowing it. Then he offers after a time, "Lost track of 'im, honestly. Haven't seen the fucker in a while." Is it possible he.. misses him? Couldn't be.

"Don't believe that's true." He leans away briefly to set the bowl aside, forcing Phoebe to shift slightly to accomodate his slump back against the couch. "Not from what I seen. Why you so down on yourself, anyway?" He turns his head like he's going to nose at her ear; the contact falls just short. "Got most of 'em. Don't underestimate what a fiend my brother is for cookies."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe's plate and bowl are similarly emptied, and she gives a surprised sound as Robbie leans away to set her own bowl aside and on the floor to grab up later, and she leans back against him, stretching her legs out so that Idu can grump further, but rolls to his back between them, curled-over tail giving a brief wag. This was acceptable. Even though he shoots Robbie the dirtiest glare at being *so casual*. Phoebe scrithces the underside of the dog's neck with both hands, the dog snorting and giving a little wriggle.

    She turns her head a little though, her attention split as Robbie's nose falls just short, and she gives a slight grin. "What I'm hearing is 'I should bring over cookies as well as seed starter next time I visit." she smiles, and then she just relaxes against Robbie. She tries to let go of the tension.

    "No matter what I do, or how good I am, I'm always going to be not good enough. I'm probably barred from membership in anything to do with the Justice League. Potentially messing up the brains of members and their kids is probably a bad thing to have on a record."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Phoebe's bowl is intercepted -- if she permits him -- and his thumb grazes her knuckle as he attempts to relinquish it from her and move it to the side table along with his own. Idu, for now, is kept tabs on but otherwise not bothered. Sometimes the best policy with canines (or canine-like creatures) is to simply let them approach on their own terms.

"Some good loam, not too much nitrogen," he murmurs. "For the peppers, I mean." As if he's continuing some internal monologue or another. His arm is slung along the back of the couch after a moment's hesitation where he considered what to do with it. "You know that's bullshit, right?" There's something in his voice that's difficult to put a finger on. Hurt?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The bowl was intercepted, and Phoebe feels the thumb brush over her knuckle and gives up the bowl to Robbie, going back to scritching the dog's chin and chest. Idu enjoys the attention he's getting just enough to forgive the fact that less than three feet away there was a *demon* and it was *letting Phoebe lean against it!* He's keeping a watchful eye.

    Phoebe adjusts herself to make it possible for Robbie to sling his arm over the back of the couch, and she's sort of leaning against his side and his chest.

    "What's bullshit? You got some secret ins to the Justice League I don't know about?" Phoebe questions with an air of levity.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Naw," Robbie murmurs, huffing in amusement at the thought. Batman would have a *fit*. "Talkin' about you bein' not good enough." He watches Idu absently as they converse, but still makes no move to touch the demon hunting dog.

"It ain't true. Not one bit. And don't even bother arguing with me about it, because I'm pretty sure I can't compete with your opinions on the subject." He turns his head slightly, lifts his eyes to hers. One a lush green; the other that unnatural shade of orange-gold bursting out from the pupil-- like it's frozen at the very moment of combustion.

He leans in a little closer, whispers in her ear,"Just know that it ain't true and never was or will be."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe can imagine several members of the Justice League that might have concerns. And think of others that would only care that the annual basketball game plans weren't leaked.

    Phoebe watches Robbie as he speaks, keeping her hound distracted with one hand as her other comes up just, lazily loops across Robbie's arm, draping over him as if trying to catch him in the most lazy way.

THer eyes, dark with those red-brown coffee notes to them search his, the green and gold, emerald and flame, and she finds her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and his breath on her ear makes her tense, just the muscles in her stomach.

    And her lips tick up in a small smile.

    "Well, if it's said enough, maybe it'll stick." she remarks quietly.

    And then she gives a quiet huff. "Damnit. I was all rearing for a fight, but no. You have to be logic and nice smelling." she smirks. "Doomed."