18222/Help is given to those...

Help is given to those...
Date of Scene:	07 June 2024
Location:	Holy Ghost Church
Synopsis:	Eddie comes to meet Father Lantom and gets Tandy instead. Talks are had, and trust is given.
Cast of Characters:	Tandy Bowen, Eddie Brock

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Tandy Bowen has posed:
Tandy was on her own today at Holy Ghost. Ty was doing some preliminary hunting, following the threads of a new gang that targeted young teens for inclusion to carry out their most violent acts with the idea that they'd be punished less harshly, and while the government debated on alterations to the well-intentioned laws more people were dying. Cloak and Dagger were able to be a more immediate solution.

She'd spent most of the morning cleaning the reachable parts of the stained glass, and she had the front door propped open just slightly because it'd been sticking more from the humidity. If someone needed the quiet, she didn't want them to have to force their way in. That just made the door stick even worse, and they didn't have the budget to get it replaced yet. It was on her list for any unexpected funds that came into her possession. Still, she was humming lightly to herself as she scrubbed the walls of a confessional, one earbud in and the rest of her alert for any noise beyond the shuffle of steps, lighting of candles, and creaking of the pews and kneelers.

Generally her tunes were either whatever Ty had last had on the playlist or one of her own, and today was no exception. She'd started with some Run-DMC and LL Cool J, but it hadn't fit her mood. Now she was humming along to the familiar strains of instrumental covers, bouncing from Yo-Yo Ma to Vitamin String Quartet to The Piano Guys. As she finished with scrubbing the walls, the music swelled and she gave into the whimsy of a more simple time, dancing her way out of the booth on sock-feet and twirling into a pirouette that came to an abrupt halt as she caught a glimpse of a semi-familiar man waiting in one of the pews.

She paused her music, tucked the earbud into her pocket, and made her way down the aisle almost silently before slipping into his row and taking a seat close enough that she could feel his body heat.

"Help is given to those who need the protection of the Lord's embrace, Diner Guy. Are you one of them, or just in need of a moment of quiet?"

Eddie Brock has posed:
There isn't much to do while you're waiting and sitting on your phone in the middle of a pew, in the middle of a church just doesn't seem appropriate. Which means that Eddie's left taking in the views afforded by the holy place. Which means that a familiar face approaching is spotted quickly enough and his head tilts ever so slightly with that tell-tale sign of recognition. A moment later and his eyes widen a touch, signaling that he's probably worked out the memory and why the face in question seems so familiar.

Somewhere around his spine there is movement. Like a flush of warmth and discomfort at once. Somewhere in the back of his mind, unheard to the world, a voice rasps out an unsettling remark.

   <<Venom>> "See if she has any chocolate. She looks like she'd have chocolate..."

"No," Eddie answers without hesitation. He stares at the blonde woman as she draws closer and settles in nearby on the pew. He smiles with a touch of awkwardness before he clears his throat and elaborates further on the answer that wasn't exactly directed at her, "I mean I'm not here for either of those. I'm here to see Father Lantom to interview him about his community outreach. Doing something similar with Father Theo over in New Lots, but," he shrugs lightly and gestures vaguely, as though to wave his tangent away.

Then Eddie's head tilts, sending a look toward Tandy before he asks with a little chuckle, though his voice is kept artificially low, "Diner Guy? What should I call you then? Diner Gal? Window Lady? Jill of All Trades?"

He's currently dressed casually; a pair of jeans over a tee, beneath an old leather jacket, and a Yankees cap kept pulled down a touch low.

Tandy Bowen has posed:
"Eddie." Tandy's own voice is softened in this building, because she's acutely aware of how easily sound can travel. It's warm though, and she smiles at the man beside her. "Not everyone wishes to be recognized when they are here, so when I do... it's polite to err on the side of caution. You're welcome to call me any of those, but Tandy is fine as well. Father's running a bit behind this morning, but he did mention someone was coming by. Would you like a bottle of water or something while you wait? A tour? My perspective on some of our community efforts as both a parishioner and recipient? I can also just leave you with your thoughts." She takes the time to let her eyes scan the room, shoulders relaxing as they rove over the stained glass. "I do some of my best thinking in this building."

Eddie Brock has posed:
Eddie's hands move to clasp together and he leans forward, resting his forearms atop his knees while he turns his attention aside to regard Tandy and her answer. He smiles a touch, nodding some understanding before his expression turns a touch more serious and grave, "That's a good point. I know I've spoken with other sources in other parishes in and beyond the city," he says with a soft nod of understanding, "sometimes people are looking to get out of really bad situations and the church is where they turn. Much as it gets a bad rap from the public these days; it does still do some good," he concludes with a soft shrug of his shoulders.

He doesn't lean back yet, but the conversation carries on with Eddie's more relaxed appearance, "You're a recipient?" There isn't surprise in his question, so much as the smell of opportunity. He begins to reach for a pocket within the lining of his jacket, but pauses to ask before he reaches into it, "Mind if I write a couple notes down? If you've been a recipient, you'd definitely help my story. You can be as anonymous - or not - as you want.."

There his hand hovers, waiting for the permission of Tandy - or refusal - before he goes reaching into his pocket to retrieve his notepad.

Tandy Bowen has posed:
"Yeah dude, it's fine. I would've kept my mouth shut otherwise. Maybe my initials in reverse? BT." Tandy twists sideway on the bench to face Eddie, feet tucked to the side with knees and arm resting against the back of the pew. "That's part of what I'm doing here today. Father Lantom has helped me out with food, clothing, and occasionally a dry, safe place to stay. Since I don't make much, I tithe in sweat equity instead of money. A little cleaning, a helping hand for community events as work allows. Whatever little bit I can do to help. And if my needs are met, I put some cash in the plate too."

Eddie Brock has posed:
A nod of both acceptance and understanding is given before Eddie finally fishes the narrow notepad from his jacket pocket. The soft click of a pen interrupts the quiet of the church, but no one seems to notice it. He labels the fresh page with a double-underlined 'BT', before he begins jotting little notes, nodding along with the words that Tandy speaks. Each little note is given a bulletpoint and kept concise, noting the exchange of aid and the services rendered in return. It is this that Eddie seems to brush against within their conversation as he hears out Tandy's own experiences, "I'm sure we know the answer, but it helps to have it from you directly," he pauses a beat before he asks with his pen poised to write, "the assistance you're provided is given freely, without any expectation of services rendered or work performed in return? Your giving back is completely voluntary?"

The question is left to hang in the air and Eddie's blue eyes remain sideward, though they shift between his notepad and Tandy's own presence upon the pew nearby.

Tandy Bowen has posed:
"Yes, I volunteer my time. There are some aid events that we've done that do have an expectation of assistance on both ends, but Father Lantom is always very clear about those. They tend to be the sort of events that have multiple parts - the soup kitchen always needs more hands around the holidays, so there's usually a day or two of the big prep work being done. Some folks are cleaning, some are sorting, some are chopping. Maybe someone's got a truck, they offer to pick up tables and chairs in exchange for a meal, a few folks keep the kids entertained with coloring books or activities. Parishioners and recipients working together and then sitting down for a simple meal together at the end. If you can help, it's always appreciated, but most of the time it's not expected."

Tandy shifts as she talks, ending up with her arms wrapped around her knees. "It's hard to be homeless," she says quietly. "Hard to pull yourself up from that once you get there. You have to have an address and paperwork for most jobs and to use the bank. Shelters have limited spaces and hard requirements for entry, and the streets are hard for everyone. You live with what you can carry and keep safe. It's exhausting to just get through the day sometimes."

Her head rests against the side of the pew. "This part is off the record, please. Father Lantom knew my uncle. He was also a priest. That's how I'm able to have an on the books job. He made sure I had the money to get a copy of my birth certificate and social security card to fill out that paperwork, and I use his address as my home address. Obviously it isn't something that can be done for everyone, and I don't have the education or skills to get the sort of job that will let me find some steady housing. Plus.. I'm not willing to leave Ty on his own, and his situation is more complex than mine."

Eddie Brock has posed:
The scribbling of paper whispers softly throughout the otherwise quiet interior. While Tandy speaks, Eddie continues to glance from his writing toward her, and back again. He nods along with her words and, at times, even seems to directly quote her in his writing. A frown soon overtakes his lined features, which only serves to deepen some of those lines further. "That's rough," he answers with a soft nod, "which I don't see to trivialize what you or anyone else goes through, of course". His voice is kept low and soft, while the Yankees cap pulled down only serves to further conceal the fact that he's murmuring and whispering with his source on the low. A glance is given toward Tandy, but by now he's gone quiet, listening to her words while he continues to scribble.

He glances back to the notepad just as she offers the remark about it being hard living as someone who is homeless. This results in a distinct frown from Eddie and he ceases writing. Now he looks toward the Diner Gal, his frown still present, and he focuses on her. He doesn't write further. At least for the moment. Now with that revelation made, Eddie seems to focus on her, not his writing. He focuses on the human speaking to him and not the story that they offer him. He listens attentively, no doubt memorizing keep points, but now he invests his attention in the person, rather than the tale.

By the end of her explanation, Eddie's expression twitches into a wince before he answers, "I'm really sorry for that," he offers at first before he transitions into an acknowledgment of her words, "having to pull yourself up from nothing, from rock bottom. I can't imagine the difficulties that you've faced". He then shifts his outlook, commenting about his own experience but in relation to Tandy's own, "I've been near rock bottom before and I'm still clawing my way up from it. It gives me a glimpse of what you've endured, but still not even close. I'm sorry."

He exhales a breath; a sigh, really. Then his attention shifts back to his notepad. The sound of it flapping closed is heard, accompanied almost simultaneously with the click of his pen. Both are shifted back into a pocket and Eddie remarks without looking toward Tandy, "We can do an interview another time, yeah? I'd rather take a moment to hear your story without a pen in my hand. Bring some decency to the whole matter."

   <<Venom>> "Who's Ty, Eddie?"

The voice rasps seemingly behind Eddie's left ear, even if there is no true mouth there to speak it. It's all in his own head.

The question results in a slight nod and a tilt of his head before Eddie fields the question at Tandy, "Sorry, you mentioned Ty? I doubt it's a kid since that's less a choice for the average person and your relationship sounds like it's a hard choice, but still a choice.."

Tandy Bowen has posed:
Tandy's impulsive sometimes, especially when following her instincts. Her arms wrap around Eddie in a flash of a hug before she settles back into her seated position. "I didn't... have to be homeless," she starts haltingly. "I had a decent life until I was in my teens, at least materially. But my mom got remarried, and her husband was..." she trails off. It's hard to put it into words, sometimes. "He wasn't bad. He tried to be a decent adult in my life, but he also had to put a lot of time and effort into caring for my mom, and she... was, is, will always be very, very self-centered. She never should have had a child, really, though most days I'm grateful to be here. Still. She wasn't a good mother. She pushed me into activities that might turn me into a star, let her shine through me, but she didn't care enough to actually be there to see them instead of spending the day with her buddies Jack and Jim."

Her fingers tap on her knees, an anxious but steady drumming. "It got worse when I hit high school, hit puberty, had people commenting on my looks. She got deeper into the bottle, and her husband tried, but.. she was mean, the deeper she got into the day's fifth. By the time I was 17 I couldn't handle being in the house anymore. She wasn't physically violent, but words... they linger. Build. Eventually you break. /I/ broke. I packed a backpack with some clothes, some water, my ID, the cash I could get my hands on. Bought a bus ticket for here."

She bites her lip. "I didn't have much life experience, and I was over my head pretty quickly. Ty is on the streets for his own reasons, and he rescued me when I was being mugged. I bought him dinner, we agreed to watch each other's backs. That Christmas we were kidnapped along with a group of others - mostly teens, a few in their early 20s."

Eddie Brock has posed:
The hug takes Eddie by surprise, but he doesn't lurch out of its path. He accepts it and even returns it with a lone arm, offering a light pat in return where Tandy's arm and shoulder meet. He doesn't speak or otherwise interrupt the display of her feelings; he simply accepts it. By the time that she begins to withdraw, Eddie shifts slightly to angle himself so he may watch Tandy with greater ease while she speaks. When she begins to tell the extent of her choice and the repercussions of it, Eddie's frown only serves to deepen further. He doesn't interrupt, nor does he make aghast or surprised expressions or sound. There's concerned etched into his lined features, yet still he does not interrupt.

The tragic story earns a nod here and there, but Eddie otherwise absorbs it without adding his own input or insights. He accepts her story for what it is: her story.

By the end however, the mention of a kidnapping results in Eddie's head canting to one side. Eyebrows dance higher on his forehead, though they're largely concealed by the Yankees cap that he wears. He's surprised of course and the rather nonchalant way that she speaks of it only serves to hone Eddie's focus and immersion in her story all the more. He even finds himself speaking, questioning the events that surely came next, "You were kidnapped?" He doesn't asked why. There's an assortment of reasons that someone could be kidnapped. None of them good. The question of the kidnapping is promptly followed by another question, "Did you escape? Were you rescued? I'm glad you're okay!" he says hurriedly, seeking to at least acknowledge the apparent positive end to what is unknown to himself.

Tandy Bowen has posed:
"A little of both. I think... some of it made the papers, maybe? His death definitely was." Tandy's voice canted to something a little darker as she mentioned the death. "We were promised food and shelter. Ty - he thought it was strange. Why was this wealthy-looking guy offering groups of homeless teens a place to crash?" She huffed out a laugh. "He didn't pass the vibe check, but. We were hungry, and cold, and my money was running low by then. So I pushed to go, and Ty had my back. We got our shelter.. and our food. And maybe there was something in the food to slow us down, but we got injected with something too."

Tandy can't really cross herself in this position, but her eyes close, face sorrowful as she recounts the next part. "Most of us didn't survive, and those of us who did were... changed. The people guarding the facility attacked us when we tried to leave. It didn't go very well for them." She opens her eyes, staring very intently into Eddie's. "That part didn't make it into the news, that there were survivors." Whatever she finds in Eddie's eyes has her giving a decisive nod and reaching a hand to rest on his knee, out of sight of anyone else that might be in the building. On her upright palm, a dagger of light forms. Over her brow, a crescent moon shines. She waits, patient, allowing Eddie to gather his thoughts and ask.

Eddie Brock has posed:
Eddie seems at a loss for words as Tandy's story takes on even greater context and substance. He's left with lips slightly parted and jaw hanging slightly while he listens to the order of events that Tandy - and her friend Ty - experienced. He seems to recognize that he's actively gawking at her while she tells her story and is quick to remedy that by simply closing his mouth. He watches and listens, his brow lined with the intensity of the concern induced frown. By the end of her tale, Eddie's eyes flutter a few times in a rapid series of blinks. His head shakes and there's some measure of disbelief, even if he seems to fully accept and believe the story. "I," he begins, his head still shaking slowly, "I can't even imagine any of that. I can't imagine enduring anything like that," he concludes the thought with quite a few more shakes of his head.

He glances back to Tandy as he begins to speak, his expression seemingly persistent in its frown now, "When I said that I'd be near rock bottom before? I recognize now that I really wasn't. I'm so, so sor--"

He stops as the hand comes to rest upon the top of his knee and as the blade of light seems to materialize within her palm, warm and glowing, Eddie's expression dims a touch. There's confusion etched over his face for a moment before his blue eyes lift from the dagger, to Tandy, and then to the dagger again.

"Huh," he quietly grunts out in surprise. He doesn't move to touch the object, but only acknowledges it with his stare. In that silence a voice whispers a hellish rasp along Eddie's brain stem.

   <<Venom>> "We shouldn't touch that, Edward..."

Eddie's eyes flutter, as though snapped from his own thoughts before he looks to Tandy again. The more formalized use of his name is enough to cause a sudden squint and a question to cautiously question aloud, "What aren't you telling me?"

   <<Venom>> "Nothing, Eddie. We only want something to eat.."

Which Eddie seems to recognize the problem with such a question, particularly when spoken aloud. To Tandy, Eddie quickly tries to cover for his blunder, "What I mean to say is... this is a lot to absorb at once," he dances carefully over his words, as his voice lowers and he sends a glance throughout the interior of the church before his attention abruptly shifts back to Tandy, "Does Father Lantom know?"

His words don't seem to carry accusation or alarm, but instead concern and wonder. The desire to understand a situation and be armed with information, more than any true desire to influence it.

Tandy Bowen has posed:
Tandy nods to the question about Father Lantom, and when she speaks again her voice is still quiet. "It won't hurt you. I mean, it can - I can - but like this, flat? It's safe for you to touch. It should be a little warm. If I stabbed into you with it, I could see your hopes and dreams. Maybe show you a vision of how your life might be different. It's... usually what I do for small-time street criminals, make them rethink their bad choices. Sometimes I bring them here, get them a little starter help. Sometimes a regular shelter, sometimes just a warm meal. Whatever I can do to help. I've been desperate. Some days I still am. Some people just need a little light shined on them."

She looks at Eddie for a second, then pulls him into another hug. He looks like he needs it. "Do not." She starts, voice stern in his ear. "Do not ever, ever apologize because your near rock bottom is different from someone else's. It is not a competition. Are you finding your way up? Out? That is what is important." Her voice is fierce, and it cracks a little, but her arms stay around his shoulders. "Please, Eddie. It's okay that your suffering was different. It was still terrible and shitty for you, I can tell. And... I struggled with it for a long time, but these powers do let me help some in the community. Every time I can help someone turn their life around. When I purge someone's addiction, when I help them find help." She's crying a little, but it's muffled against his shoulder. "It's okay. God let me survive this for a reason. I get to be a little bit of his light and justice."

Eddie Brock has posed:
The assurances made by Tandy seems to motivate Eddie to accept them at face value. Despite the reservations of some unseen entity, Eddie's hand shifts toward the glowing shard of hardened light. He glances first to Tandy, considering her for a moment. He begins to reach for the blade of light, but his hand never truly reaches it. Instead he's brought into another hug and he remains still, allowing it for the moment as he offers her arm another gentle, reassuring pat, "We all have weights to carry," he agrees with a little bob of his head in answer. "Some are just greater than others. Nothing wrong with acknowledging that you've had an easier go of things. That's confronting reality," he offers as a means of assurance toward Tandy. That he doesn't take some personal slight that his problem isn't in even the same realm of severity as her own.

The hug persists and Eddie seems to have forgotten the light blade. The crying against his shoulder results in a glance throughout the church. Not out of discomfort, but to ensure that she and himself weren't creating some sort of scene to distract onlookers. After a moment of silence his hand shifts and moves, attempting to return the hug before he offers some words of encouragement or at least the best he can come up with, "You want to help and that's more than most. Whether God or otherwise, you're doing what you can to make a difference".

He pauses for a moment as he begins to extract himself from the hung, without haste. He tilts his head to consider Tandy, making utterly certain that she's okay to continue with their conversation. He nods once and a small smile pulls at one half of his mouth, though it quickly grows into something bordering on reassuring, "I wrote a story that ended my career. I lost a little of everything after being blacklisted. My rock bottom was nothing more than seeing what I'd achieved crumble into dust. It wasn't being kidnapped, it wasn't anything remotely close to what you've endured. You have struggled against adversity and things that would scar someone's past, present, and future. I just had some rotten luck."

The smile fades and Eddie's hand extends finally, looking to touch the light blade and the warmth that it may provide. While doing so his blue eyes drift aside to regard Tandy before he adds, "What if it stabs you?" He then promptly assures her, "I don't plan on trying to stab you with it," he says in a sudden, rushed, and hushed voice to preempt any concerns that may suddenly arise with his question. Then he clarifies it, "I'm just curious is all."

Tandy Bowen has posed:
Tandy gives him a somewhat watery smile, then pushes the dagger into her hand. It stings a little, and there's a faint buzzing, but when she pulls it back out... nothing. A small, silvery mark, but it's bloodless and already healing. "You won't hurt me," she asserts. "And it'll stay flat in my hands, unless you /ask/ me to use it on you. Some people have. Others would rather cut off a limb than contemplate those what ifs that may not be changeable."

Her hand continues to rest, the blade a small, steady source of light. "I am sorry to hear that. It's... very hard to lose something you love, that you've been dedicating a large portion of your time and energy towards." She speaks with the voice of someone who is intimately aware of that sort of loss. "I do try to help. It's not always easy, and the rot of the city grows faster than it can be combatted. But every life I can help is worth the effort."

Eddie Brock has posed:
Eddie watches on with obvious interest as Tandy manipulates the blade, using it first to press the blade into her own hand and then draw it back out. He makes a thoughtful sound, but doesn't speak further for a moment. He watches the blade, then Tandy, and listens to what she has to say. Though as her words turn to sympathy for himself, Eddie's shoulders rise and fall with a mild shrug. "The past is the past," he begins with a glance up from the blade and back toward Tandy herself, his gaze settling onto her own face before he concludes, "there's no sense dwelling in the past or speculating at a potential future. I think it was Dumbledore in Harry Potter, right? The mirror? Said that pining for an impossible future may cause you to live for today or something like that?" Eddie's shoulders rise and fall with another shrug.

He shifts slightly and his hand lowers, seeking to gently close her own fingers around the blade of light before he speaks, "Your secret's safe with me though. I appreciate your candor and the trust you've shown me". Should she permit her hand to be closed around the blade, Eddie's own hands slip away and back to rest around his own person. With a glance around themselves once again, Eddie's head dips and leans aside, closer to Tandy as he asks from the corner of his mouth, "Do you have a cool nickname or anything? Doesn't everyone with special powers have a neat name to go along with it?"

Tandy Bowen has posed:
Their fingers end up tangled together around the blade, and Tandy's smile turns a little bit sly. "You've got your fingers on it," she teases, then allows the blade - the light - to fade back into her skin. The moon disappears from her brow as the dagger finishes sinking back into her skin. "I haven't read those books," Tandy confesses. "Mom didn't allow them, and well. I read some, when I can, but it's hard to get into a novel where some of the books are almost as wide as my palm. I usually stick to shorter books and graphic novels, they're a little easier to get through." She's still half-leaned against Eddie, shoulders touching lightly. It's warm. Nice. "What do you write about these days, other than do-gooder men of the cloth?"

Eddie Brock has posed:
The warmth floods through his fingertips and Eddie's fingers curl as a result, as though seeking to keep that warmth contained within his hand. Though as it begins to fade away, Eddie's attention turns back to Tandy and her answer regarding the books. A nod is given, though no commentary to accompany it. To Eddie, it's likely not a part of Tandy's spoken history that she readily wishes to see explored further. Some things are just best left acknowledged.

The touch at his shoulder doesn't seem to bother him. It's innocent enough. Instead Eddie seems keen to take an opportunity to relate something about himself. He glances toward the front of the rows of pews, considering the main room of worship at length. He begins to speak without looking toward Tandy, his voice kept artificially low to prevent it carrying too far, "I do some ghost writing and independent editing. I do some stories for blogs and the like, usually under a nom de plume," there's a wince at that admission, but it's one that he seems prepared to share with Tandy regardless, "using my real name usually results in more doors being shut in my face than the alternative". He pauses for a moment as his hand moves to smooth down the thigh of his jeans. No doubt a mild fidget. One that is quickly tucked away as he's satisfied following the smoothing of his pant leg, "If I need a serious story posted somewhere, I can sometimes convince some friends and former colleagues to put their name on the story and get it published. If they're willing to take the risk."

Eddie's attention turns back to Tandy now and he continues on with his explanation, now watching her as much as the idleness of the church's interior, "I write a little of everything, if it means getting paid. When it comes to the stuff that rarely gets me paid? I try to use my talents for good causes. My reasoning with Fathers Theo and Lantom for instance isn't just about their charity work, but also to shed light on the seedier elements of these neighborhoods. Hoping that if enough bright light is shined, then it means maybe enough Average Joes will start to see the corruption for what it is and really start putting pressure on the local elected officials. Try to force their hand through exposure."

Tandy Bowen has posed:
"That's something at least." Tandy gives him a small grin. "A little bit of a journalist vigilante, maybe?" She doesn't always look for the bright side anymore, but when she can offer it to someone else she tries. The idea of shedding some light on the areas - and people - that often get overlooked hits something in Tandy that makes her relax a little more. "That's good. Really good, important work, shining the light on those things. There will always be suffering, that's just a fact of life, but when the people in charge do nothing..." Her voice was frustrated, and her hands curled into fists. "I never knew how bad it could be. And that's a blessing that I'm grateful for, because children should be sheltered from the worst of it. So many of them aren't, and the gangs... they recruit younger and younger around here. Use the laws as loopholes, teach children to become murderers and worse in the name of a fleeting notion of safety. Family. Lies, both of them. I hate people who hurt and use children the most."

Eddie Brock has posed:
The pair of fists that form result in a glance down toward them. There isn't a trace of concern or fear in Eddie's face, but he does regard them for a split second by virtue of their being present. While Tandy speaks, he listens. He nods along with her sentiment regarding those who target children for whatever nefarious deeds. Before he addresses that particular topic however, Eddie's attention turns to the church's interior and the stained glass windows. He considers them, organizing his thoughts. When he does speak, it's with only a brief glance back toward Tandy before he continues his observation of his surroundings, "Supporting people is how you prevent the worst from festering in civilization. Holding people accountable is how you make sure that everyone is supported fairly". He pauses a moment to turn his blue eyes back toward Tandy, there they remain for the moment, "Politicians should be held to the same standards and expectations as everyone else. If you get a job at a restaurant and then only service three of the twelve tables? You're going to lose your job".

He falls silent again. He seems to knead at the inside of his lip and cheek for a moment in thought. Finally he answers the subject of Tandy's greatest hatred with a nod and a quietly spoken voice of agreement, "Those are the sort that I'm okay with bad ends for. Those are the ones that we're better off without. Sure, a lot of others, but those especially."

Tandy Bowen has posed:
Tandy nods in agreement. "That's the line I've drawn for myself. All crime has a victim, in some ways, but not everyone who commits a crime is irredeemable. So... that's what we look for. Are they targeting children on purpose? Other vulnerable people? Do they have regrets about doing it other than being caught? Do they want the helping hand that can turn their life around?" Her hands unclench, fingers tapping along her knees as she follows his eyes towards the stained glass. "I don't want to play God, but if they can turn it around, they get another chance. If they don't want to turn it around... I try to make sure they can't hurt anyone else again. It's harder to take care of the rot that starts at the top, but where we can..." she trails off with a shrug.

Eddie Brock has posed:
"It's a firm line, but I think many people would agree that it's a necessary line. I think in many decades past, people tried to be more humane with such things, but it was perceived to be a minimal issue. It didn't occur regularly," Eddie answers with his eyes downcast toward the floor. His gaze lingers where the floor disappears beneath the shape of the pew in front of his own. There he considers the line, the distinction between floor and pew back. He nods again and still does not return his gaze to Tandy before he speaks, "These days I think people have a bleaker outlook of the world. I think these days people think that the punishments that are in place aren't enough. The deterrence isn't causing enough impact."

Eddie's hands come together and finally he turns his gaze from the floor. He considers the church interior for a moment and then his mouth shifts, a frown tugging at his features. A hand rises up and he rubs at his jaw, creating the scraping sensation of a palm against a jaw of sandpaper. When his hand lowers again, it returns to rest atop his knee as Eddie's words are delivered, "I know a guy," he begins.

   <<Venom>> "Be careful.."

The interjection is quick, as though to warn. Venom's voice emanating as though from the back right corner of Eddie's skull, as though from behind his right ear.

"And he thinks like you a lot. He might be a little more hardcore though. He's that old 'kill them all, let God sort them out' kind of guy, you know?" Eddie's shoulders twitch with a mild shrug as his attention lingers upon Tandy. He shifts slightly. Not to rise, but in order to prepare himself for the possibility. For now, he remains seated and engaged within the conversation, "My point is that you're going to see such things more and more, the less and less people see a decrease or what they deem to be true consequences. That's the problem with vigilantism. It appeals to emotion and a direct answer to a need, but it can often become as big a problem as what it's fighting against."

Tandy Bowen has posed:
"It's a struggle sometimes," she admits. "But... I see it somewhat like this. I could ignore the suffering around me, but that just means more people suffer. So I try to balance it. It's like an infected wound, right? You get a cut, you don't take care of it right, it gets infected. You clear the rot, then heal the infection. But ideally? You try to avoid the cut, but when you do get one, you clean it, bandage it, and treat it before it becomes infection and rot. The city's like that. Infected. Full of rot. I'm trying to clear and heal what I can, and maybe one day we can get to a point where the wound just needs a bandage and regular washing to finish healing."

Tandy's voice is a little wistful as she continues, though it hardens throughout her words. "Sometimes I wish I still had an all killing is bad mindset, and I know I'll have to reckon with my God some day. But I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing I let an unrepentant murderer or worse keep walking around when I could stop them for good." Her eyes follow his hand, the rub of palms against stubble and back to his knee. "I wouldn't mind meeting your friend, if he's interested."

Eddie Brock has posed:
"The problem, I think," Eddie begins, but pauses after a moment. He seems to consider his intended response and then, more than likely, how they hold against Tandy's own. He remains silent for a long beat, but does eventually continue, clearly having shifted the trajectory of his point, "What's that saying? 'nature abhors a vacuum'? It's a double-edged sword. On one hand, let's imagine that every petty criminal out there today suddenly dropped dead. Do you think there would be a rush of new ones, looking to seize opportunity?" Eddie's question is clearly rhetorical, because he doesn't delay for long in continuing into the next part of his double-edged sword point of view, "Setting aside the quandary of vigilantism and what would effectively be mass murder.."

Eddie pauses for a moment before he concludes, looking back to Tandy with a raised brow, "What happens when they're all killed and all of their loved ones, families, or whatever are left without them? I'm not saying that what they're doing is okay, but even putting an end to them has repercussions that you can't really foresee, right?"

Tandy Bowen has posed:
"Whether jail or dead or disappeared... someone hurts at the other end of it, most times. But is it worse that one chain of connections loses a link, or that many chains do? If the system hasn't stopped them - can't, won't, whatever the reasoning might be - then who is left? The system's not perfect. Sometimes it's not even good." Tandy's shrug is... not sad, necessarily, but a little defeated. Tired. Eddie's questions are something she wrestles with a lot, really. Ty's got to eat, and he could generally just subsist on her excess light. But that would only help him, and it wouldn't keep either of them any safer, so they do what they do.

"In an ideal world, I would only ever need to use my powers to help people. But in an ideal world, I never would've been able to be snatched off the streets and experimented on either, and the person who did it wouldn't have walked free for ages afterwards. That's the thing about free will. Someone makes the choice to be evil, they hurt others, and you can really only control your own response to that." She raises her own brow back. "That's why we have the lines we do. Petty criminals that stay petty? Knock them out, move on. Murderers? Worse? The total lack of guilt for the people they hurt and the chains they break with their actions? They can try and collect mercy from God, because mine is for their victims."

Eddie Brock has posed:
It seems to dawn on Eddie that he may very well be seated next to a murderer. His eyebrows dance a little higher while he listens to Tandy. His lips part slightly and he seems to be listening actively, but likewise distracted by his own thoughts. He frowns once and a nod or two is given before Eddie asks with a glance throughout the church, then back toward Tandy, "I definitely want to interview you a bit more seriously. Totally anonymous and everything," he assures with a slight nod of his head. He doesn't rise from his seat, but it's obvious that he's working toward it.

"Not only about the church and what it's done for you, but about yourself and your views as well. I'm not looking to write a hit piece about you or anything," Eddie offers in a tone of swift assurance as his hand lifts and gestures toward Tandy, further personalizing his insistence that it isn't intended to be a piece about her specifically. He continues though, nodding once to accompany his words as his knees shift slightly and he seems prepared to rise, "Writing something about the nature of vigilantism though? How good intentions can carry its own moral pitfalls? The fact that neighborhoods across this country are descending into vigilantism on a surprisingly rapid scale? Things like that? I'd love to get into writing, after an interview. Would you be open to that?"

The question is left for Tandy to answer and Eddie watches her closely. The sound of his fingers snapping can be heard, which seems to signal Eddie's memory. Then he answers the unanswered, "I'll speak with my friend and see if he's interested. I can't make any promises. He's got a pretty strong vigilante streak himself, but I don't know if he's interested in working with others."

Tandy Bowen has posed:
Tandy shifts nervously while she thinks about it. "Maybe? I would want to read it first. But you haven't run screaming or called the cops yet, and... well. If you do call the cops, please leave the church out of it. Send them to work instead, it wouldn't be the first time someone got arrested mid-shift." She rubs the back of her neck nervously, smile sheepish. "One of the guys in the kitchen got busted dealing a few weeks ago. He only sold to other adults, and only small time amounts so... wasn't on my radar for anything other than an offer to get clean once I thought he'd take it."

Eddie Brock has posed:
"You'd have full access throughout the entire process, I promise you. My goal would not be, in any way, intended to get attention put on you. You're my source and I protect my sources. As far as anyone is concerned, our communications were anonymous and I don't have any idea of who you truly are," Eddie offers with a voice that bears fistfuls of resolve. He begins to rise up and, upon turning back to Tandy, extends a hand toward her. The hand is there and offered to be shaken. When Tandy bypasses the shake of the hand, Eddie seems to be caught off-guard for a split second. He offers a little chuckle, along with a return of the hug and a pat of the back.

By the time that the embrace is broken, Eddie offers a little nod and a smile toward Tandy, "I appreciate the talk, but I'm going to get going for now. I'll shoot Father Lantom a text and let him know that I'll be back in a day or two. I appreciate the conversation and insights, Tandy".

Another nod and then, awkwardly, Eddie has to squeeze around Tandy in his effort to slip from the pew's aisle. He shuffles sideways and chuckles a little awkwardly as he squeezes his way through. "Take care of yourself," he offers over a shoulder as he begins to make his departure. It's on his way toward the front doors that the guttural voice in the back of his mind offers a little remark...

   <<Venom>> "We should talk soon, Eddie..."

"Hrm," arrives the grunted response to that voice from the one that carries it. Yankees cap pulled down and hands thrust into his jacket, Eddie steps into the sunlight outside the church with his head down and feet carrying him away.