15773/The Stray Katz's Strut

The Stray Katz's Strut
Date of Scene:	01 September 2023
Location:	East Village
Synopsis:	Joshua is saved from a beating by Nettie and is offered a job. THE CROW TALKS.
Cast of Characters:	Joshua Foley, Nettie Crowe

---

Joshua Foley has posed:
Katz's Deli is a busy place. But even at their busiest, there comes a time where they have throw out the day old and expired meats, in order to keep their stock fresh and new. A large sign is on the dumpster in the alleyway of the deli that reads clearly: No Dumpster Diving! Violators Will Be Prosecuted!

There's even a security camera that is overlooking the dumpster, just to make sure that people at least assume that the dumpster is being monitored 24 hours a day.

The morning trash had been taken out an hour or so ago, and already a couple of people that have made their pickings. Joshua had waited for them to clear out before he made his way to do it. His clothes are old and dirty, wrecked with his time out on the street. He makes his way over, opening the dumpster and immediate rips open a bag to pull out a half-eaten pastrami on rye and tears into it with abandon.

Flecks of gold cover his exposed skin, hints of past injuries that have healed and marking him clearly as most likely a mutant. As he opens a bag of chips to eat them, he makes a face after the first one. "Dill Pickle and Jalopeno?" he grumbles -- but his stomach rumbles louder and he starts to eagerly eat them, just as an employee comes out. "Boss! We got one! Call the police!"

The heavy-set man, in his thirties and balding, is armed with a broom as he comes over and hits the side of the dumpster, startling Josh. "Get out of there kid! The cops are coming for you!"

"No... no!" Josh yelps, trying to climb out the side of the dumpster in a hurry.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Hold up -- what kind of nonsense is this? Someone eating from the trash an' you call the police?" comes the tongue clicking that sounds like it could be from someone's terribly British grandmother.

    Instead it's a short woman, gray hair braided and pulled up into 'space buns' that are messy and being held together with a pair of pink scrunchies right out of the early 90's, looking exhausted, with a couple of canvas bags (one rainbow-colored and labeled 'UGH PEOPLE' and the other orange and covered with pumpkins and spider webs), a pair of worn shades (presumably to cover her hangover eyes), wearing a "WU TANG is for the Children" T-shirt and a pair of ripped and ratty jeans.

    In other words, she appears to give zero shits about what others think about her. She sets her lips in a thin line as she looks at the heavy-set man with the broom. "How much to re-call the police and tell them to fuck off?" she questions.

    A crow flits to the edge of the dumpster, red eyes settling on Josh.

Joshua Foley has posed:
Ugh. Her again. The man looks over the woman and then turns his head. "Boss! The crazy crow lady's back!" the man calls into the deli as he brandishes his broom. "Look, sign clearly says that they'll be prosecuted!" he points out to Nettie, as he adds, "Isn't it a little early for Halloween?" he asks her with a sneer.

Josh grabs another sandwich, shoving it in his pocket. The trash stinks as deli trash should, and clearly this isn't the first dumpster that Josh has dove into. When he finds himself face to face with the crow, his blue eyes widen.

And he offers it part of the sandwich. "I just wanted something to eat." he argue-pleads towards the heavy-set man. "I can work for it, or try to get some money and come back later... I..." he closes his eyes to fight back a sob.

"You're a fuckin' mutie, kid. Now just sit there and wait for the cops to show up or I'm gonna shove this broom up your ass!" And then the man turns to Nettie. "This ain't any of your business, you can let him dive in your own dumpster!"

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "An' the alley's owned by the city, the dumpster's leased, and it's trash. What do you care if a boy eats it or a rat?" Nettie argues back, and looks at the broom. "You really think your pissant little stick's going to scare me?" she asks, looking at the sneer. Her eyes narrow behind the her shades.

    "You will do no such thing." she states sternly, drawing herself up to her full height. "Interrupting needless persecution has been my business for most of my life." she states, and she turns to the Dumpster.

    "You're hired. Pick up one of the bags and follow me."

    And then back to the man with the broom. She looks at him. Then she looks at the broom, and then back at him.

    "Utinam mures in culina tua copiosa sint et inter digitos tuos pulices mordent." she states, then horks, spits to the side to seal the curse, and in sweep three rats through the open door, spooked by the noise around the dumpster!

    Yes. She did just curse the guy with rats and fleas that bite between his toes, but that's PURELY coincidental, right?

    And with that, she turns, and reaches to pick up the Halloween bag, entirely expecting Josh to follow.

Joshua Foley has posed:
"You fuckin' mashugana!" the fat man roars just as she curses him. "What the..." He doesn't get a chance to say more as rats start to run into the building. "Oh crap, crap. Boss!" he's grabbing the broom to chase after the rats and back into the deli.

In a few days, the boss, who is actually a nice Jewish guy will probably visit Nettie to make peace and break bread after firing the broom-brandishing brute, but that's not here or there at the moment.

Josh looks confused for several moments, blue eyes going from one to the other and then he scrambles out of the dumpster, falling on the pavement with a thud. He pushes himself up and takes one of the bags, backing up a few steps, the fear clear in his eyes as he looks at the woman. What if she's one of them?

He's one of them. Self-loathing is totally in overdrive. But he shoves it aside. He has to live. That's all that matters right now.

"....thank you." he manages in a small whisper to Nettie as he falls in, several steps behind her. "I can leave once we get out of the alley."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie hates to curse anyone who can curse back in Yiddish, but she mutters 'schmendrik.' under her breath. She takes off her sunglasses, her eyes a lighter, almost electric sort of blue, like the color had been sucked out of them at one point as she looks to Joshua, and she breathes out with a small sound, looking at him with kindness and understanding.

    "Nonsense. I run a tea shop, a couple blocks up. You can get out of the heat and sun and get cleaned up there, and a good meal in you while you decide what your next move is." she explains.

    The crow caws as it flaps out of the alleyway, and lands on Nettie's shoulder, eyeballing Josh with suspision. It's a very human look of suspision on that bird.

    "My name is Nettie. What's yours, lad?"

Joshua Foley has posed:
Josh looks down and considers the bag, peeking without trying to open it outright to look. Is shoes are worn and torn and he suddenly pauses. "Hang on!" Setting down the bag, he quickly jogs back to the dumpster and reaches behind it.

A skateboard is pulled out. It has seen much better days. The deck is scratched up, the artwork on the bottom no longer recognizable. He tucks it under his arm and jogs back over to pick up the bag. "It's all I have to my name..." he explains.

Speaking of name. "It's Joshua. Or Josh." he manages with a hiccup. That sandwich didn't sit well. But it will heal. He always heals.

The offer of a place to pause, if for a moment, brings a pensive look and then a nod as his hand reaches up to brush through his blonde locks, he doesn't even remember when he got a shower last.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Mm. The day old deli sandwiches never sat right with me neither, back in my day." Nettie replies thoughtfully as they walk. "Are you quite good with the skateboard? I've never tried them, know a couple of friends who like it. I don't have the knack." she states conversationally, as if she didn't just pick him up out of an alleyway. "Corvax, be a dear and get the door for us?" she asks, and the crow actually appears to roll its eyes, and then takes off with a harsh caw, flying and banking left towards a building with a little sandwich board in front.

    The sandwich board reads 'CLOSED TODAY - OPENING SUNDAY FOR TEA - GRAVE DIRT SPECIAL: POTTER'S FIELD, GOTHAM CITY, NJ

Joshua Foley has posed:
"I totally shred." Joshua responds as Nettie gets the first points of getting through someone's guarded defenses. Ask them about what they have a passion about. "I used to do Tik-Toks and everything." he explains, but then he glances down. He doesn't really get to do that as much as he did anymore. "Now it's just a way to get from here and there without walking."

As she calls out to the crow, and the crow responds, he pauses, his blonde brows rising. And he finds himself pausing. He remembered a children's story about a witch that invited children into her home and ate them. He's too old to seriously consider it.

But he considers it nonthless.

The sign is scrutinized and he frowns. "What are you?" he asks, completely befuddled and confused at what he's trying to process.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Terribly British, I'm afraid." Nettie replies creatively, "somewhat eccentric. Allergic to shellfish, I break out in a horrible rash." Nettie adds thoughtfully as she pushes the door open.

    And inside? There's a short set of stairs down into the shop proper. It smells spicy and smokey and comforting. There are overstuffed chairs by a fireplace and a long bar with an antique brass cash register, and a far more modern electronic payment system with a fancy IPad. Apothecary shelves and drawers and boxes marked 'WORMWOOD' and 'ROSE HIPS' and 'DRAGON'S BLOOD' and 'TYNAN DO NOT TOUCH' and one marked 'Belinda's Box for Experimental Blends', with a row of upholstered stools with cast iron backs against the bar. Capes and dresses and T-Shirts hang from hooks and nails on the rafters.

    The shop is strangely warm and comforting, even if it appears to be the sort of place that keeps Halloween decorations up year round for a 'statement'.

    "But the question you're probably asking me is 'are you a witch', which the answer of course is 'yes'."

Joshua Foley has posed:
Josh stands in the doorway, taking it all in. He could drop the bag. Run away. She probably wouldn't curse him. Witches aren't real. Wait, they are. A deep and shaky breath is taken. And then he finally walks into the shop, eyes scanning the shelves.

"I'm all skin and bones." Which is way to say 'I probably don't taste good.' "That was rude, I'm sorry. Last people I worked for only wanted to use me... as fodder, then bait, then... because of what I can do." he closes his eyes.

"I have trust issues." Understatement of the situation.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I haven't eaten people in decades." Nettie answers good naturedly, setting her bag up on the counter, which she promptly hops over and begins to set up one of her quick kettles to boil.

    "Go ahead and have a seat. I'd like to hear your story -- as much or as little as you feel you need to share."

    The door closes on its own -- well, with the crow's help. He flaps about a moment, coming to settle on top of the bank of apothecary drawers behind the tea bar.

    "As I said, my name is Nettie. I run this shop -- the Candle, Booke and Belle. I'm in the business of helping people -- and by that, I mean that I do some administrative work for people like The Justice League and work with a variety of like-minded but less marketable individuals." she offers as a joke. "Occasionally I do set about some occaisonal bouts of small heroic acts, but like my good friend John wrote in a book, it's those small acts that keep the darkness at bay." she gives a small smile. "After you've had a chance to rest a little and eat, there are some guest rooms and washrooms upstairs. You can take your pick."

Joshua Foley has posed:
"I probably taste terrible with catsup." Maybe there was a smile there. Fleeting. A hint that he used to just be a normal teenager, and then it's gone. And then she's asking his story.

Looking around, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pocket knife and opens it. "...I guess I should start with... what I'm cursed with." he murmurs. Turning his free hand around, he takes the knife and draws it across the meat of the palm, letting out a hiss of pain as he does so.

It bleeds, but after several seconds, his hand turns a golden color and the wound seals up. "...I can do it to others, as well." he explains. "I'm a mutie freak."

"My parents are... were... very strict Christian parents. We went to church and I learned to hate. To hate mutants, to hate those different than me." His thoughts go back to 'Shield Bitch', err Bunny. Is she okay? He hopes so.

"My best friend took me to a meeting. They were called Reavers. We were going to stop the mutants, I thought we were helping them. Trying to find a cure. To make them normal again... and... I found out I was one. By accident. But so did the Reavers. And then I found out the truth, when a group of muties (he can't help it, still learning not to say it) attacked where we were... and I saw what was really happening to the mutants we captured..."

His eyes well up with tears. "...I helped them escape. Then I waited to die." He looks down at his hands, and chokes a little on his voice.

"And I did."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "Ah, Americans haven't had mushroom catsup, only tomato ketchup. I'm sure you'd be fine with a bit of umami." Nettie states conversationally. She used to be a teenager once too. Just... longer ago. And she draws her attention to him as he takes out the pocket knife. She raises her eyebrows, lips pursing as he cuts across his palm, and she's reaching for a tea towel to give him to hold -- and then it heals. She straightens herself after a moment, and then wets the tea towel with hot water, and hands it to Joshua to clean his hands with as he speaks.

    "I'm sure the Reavers started with what they thought were good intentions -- but we all know what the way to Hell is paved with." Nettie replies softly.

    She looks to him, her brows knitting. Parents would have rejected him, she figured. Religion of Love and Peace her left asscheek. She knows what they did to her family.

    A cup of tea is placed in front of Joshua. It's fragrant, sweet and floral scented without anything being added to it, along with a reddish gold color. The cup itself looks like it's been broken once, white ceramic that has been stitched together with gold.

    "It sounds to me that Joshua the Reaver was killed. And now Josh the Healer has a chance to decide what to do next. Which, if you want my advice -- which everyone does -- is to enjoy a chocolate chip scone."

    Which, coincidentally, is set in front of him. "How convenient. Must be magic."

Joshua Foley has posed:
"Hell. I figured that is where I was going. I felt the heat of the blast. It was the last thing I felt before I woke up in a coroner's drawer in a morgue. I got out and escaped. I went home. My parents were so happy to see me." Joshua explains as he cups his hand around the glass.

He hasn't figured out exactly how much like the Kintsugi pottery she just gave him is like him.

"And they were. For a time. And then they showed up. Not the Reavers. The heroes. And that is when my parents figured out what I was. I fled." He sighs and takes a sip from the tea and that makes him feel better.

"...and that was around Halloween last year." he murmurs. "I'm not much of a healer. I can't even heal myself, Miss Nettie." he manages. His eyes fall on the scone. He's too hungry to reject it, immediately starting in on it with newfound ravishment.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    He hasn't figured it out, but Nettie was going to make a point of it at some point. Nettie is very amused by how well they match.

    "I would dare say that after cutting yourself with a pen knife and then stopping the bleeding, that counts as a healing." Nettie replies with a little mirth.

    The scone was warmed in the toaster oven under the counter. The outside had a crisp bite to it, just a little flakiness. The inside was tender, and the chocolate chunks -- not chips, but chunks of good quality chocolate -- were slightly melty.

    Her expression falls a little bit.

    "So almost a year you've been on your own then?" she questions gently.

Joshua Foley has posed:
Can't talk, mouth full of scone.

He finishes the scone quickly and follows it with the tea. "Not a healer. A freak. A mutie." he murmurs to himself, mostly, but she could hear it.

"Yeah. Just about a year. I have a standing invitation to go to the school in Westchester, but..." he shrugs his shoulders. "A healer gets years of training and experience and figures it out. I touch people and make them better. It's not the same. I'm not even one of those faith healers that my parents went on about..."

"Not that it matters. They disowned me. To them, Joshua Foley is dead." And something in his voice may make it sound like he may have actually considered that once or twice.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "A healer heals." Nettie counters. "What difference is it if they receive training to channel the power of reagents, or go to a medical school and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to do it over time with science, or manipulate temporal energies to reverse the damage, or simply a single touch cleans and recovers the damage?" Nettie challenges back to Joshua, "Is it some form of *cheating* because it's a gift?"

    Ah. That school in Westchester again. Nettie's heard of it more than a few times by now, and she gives a disapproving click of her tongue. "Incredulous that the people who believe in this Universal Father, puts himself on Earth as his own son, sacrifices himself to himself in order to fufil a deal made to himself will not accept that same UNiversal Father who is Never Wrong could create a soul and put it into a body, have it be born with a certain grab-bag of features and then utterly dismiss it as something so inconceivably evil that it deserves to be eliminated." Nettie frowns.

    "What an absolutely horseshittedly narrow worldview. Would you like another scone?"

Joshua Foley has posed:
He wants to protest. To rail. He's a freak. A menance. An affornt to all that is Christian, if you ask his parent. Instead, Nettie's haute wordture catches him off guard and he finds himself pack-pedalling. It's not too late to run from the shop.

But run to what? Inside the shop is opprotunity. What is outside that door, he already knows.

The decision, it turns out, is an easy one.

"Yes, please."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Another scone is put into the toaster oven as Nettie considers.

    "You talk about yourself like you hate yourself. What you are. Your parents, your family, consider their son to be dead. You were broken, once, but mended with gold."

    she gives a nod to the teacup he has. "I bought that in nineteen twenty-two, bound for Japan on a Dutch ship. I made a lot of friends, traveling illegally mind you, since gaijin -- foreigners -- were not allowed on the main islands. Managed to get up north, to a rural village that had the prettiest plum trees and the strongest umeshu."

    "I broke the set, accidentally. I was so cross with myself because to me, they were valuable. And what good is a broken cup? Can't hold anything in it. But there was a gold smith in town named Masaharu, and he taught me the lesson of Kintsugi, mending with gold." she gives a small smile, and she reaches for tongs to take the scone out of the toaster, and put it back on Joshua's plate. This one is cranberry and orange.

    "Though that may be a conversation for another day, duckie, when you've rested and are more ready to hear the natterings of an old witch." she clicks her tongue a moment. "I've found young people take quite an affront to having so many life lessons in one conversation."

Joshua Foley has posed:
"I stand out, Miss Nettie." He holds up the golden hand. "Like this. All the time." He hasn't discovered yet that he can hurt people as well.

And the onyx he turns when he does.

But he quiets again when he is presented another scone. How do you shut up an angry post-teen? Feed them, of course. He's eagerly into the next scone, scarfing down upon it.

"I know you just wanted to get me away from the alley. If you don't really need someone to work for you..." he shrugs his shoulders. "...but thank you."

His guard is gradually lowered. And he is looking tired. Very tired. A year's worth of fear, hatred and scraping is slowly starting to be released and the weight is great.

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    "I incidentally offered you a job, and you took it when you picked up my bag. Already said you were hired." Nettie replies good naturedly. "I have a number of people who help mind my shop, my adopted granddaughter Belinda, my friend Gabby. The pay is dependant on odd jobs you pick up additionally, but there's room and board provided. A cash stipend of a hundred dollars a week and a smartphone, until at least you're on your feet. You have free run of the building when you're not minding the shop, including the wifi." she states, and scratches a moment at her cheek in thought. "There's a gaming lounge and a few hang-out spaces. Quiet places to read and meditate if that's your thing. Occasional fight nights if that's also your thing -- my friends Sara and Talia are going to start in on a martial arts lesson group soon." she purses her lips.

    "I'll even advance your pay in cash for some clothes, if you would like."

Joshua Foley has posed:
"I'm not much of a fighter..." Joshua admits. He's learned that the hard way. Quite a few times by now. The young man rubs the back of his head, drawing in several breaths. Finally, he feels safe. And the tears come quick enough. Tears of relief that leave trails on dirty cheeks and he hiccups on a sob.

"Okay!" he agrees finaly. "I'll try my best!" He finishes off the scone. And he would probably hug Nettie... if he wasn't so damn nasty. "I should... I should get cleaned up. I don't want to make a bad impression on your shop, Miss Nettie."

Nettie Crowe has posed:
    Nettie would have gently declined the hug -- that's a story for another day.

    "You're fine, Josh." she gives a gentle smile. "You're going to be safe here. There's no one who will enter this building who will hurt you, or they *will* be dealing with *me*." she replies, with a dark edge to her voice. Josh was under her protection now.

    "C'mon, we'll go and pick out a room in the Crash Space for you, you'll hang a little tab on the door and you can store your items in there, and we'll get you some fresh clothes and a clean-up."

    Nettie cleans up behind the counter a bit, and then gets a thoughtful look.

    "Oh, right -- Hellboy. Ah, there is a gentlemen who comes in. Part of our on-the-ground crew. Tall fellow, quite red, can't miss him. He's a demon. He comes in and watches the telly in the lounge, but he's a relatively nice fellow. Just... don't be surprised."

    "HEH. Surprised is the least of it." Corvax states as he swoops down, the black bird landing on Nettie's shoulder.

    "Welcome to the Justice League Dark, Mr. Foley."

Joshua Foley has posed:
He nods, starting to relax. "Okay... thank you." he starts to say, taking in the information on Hellboy and filing it away. "At least his brain isn't in a jar and can move between booooddddies?!!"

*WHUMP*

That would be Josh falling out of his chair.

THE CROW JUST TALKED.

He's clearly lost his mind. And that's when he passes out from utter exhaustion.