3281/Saving Lives

From Heroes Assemble MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Saving Lives
Date of Scene: 08 September 2020
Location: Chelsea Market
Synopsis: Mori and Drake meet and share fries over talk of superheroes, powers, and saving lives.
Cast of Characters: Drake Riley, Mori Merritt




Drake Riley has posed:
A cloudless sky, a balmy day, a gentle breeze - perfect summer weather in beautiful New York City. So why the heck would someone be dressed in overbearing layers?

Most would jump to a negative conclusion. They wouldn't necessarily be wrong. But for now, mall security is the only agency presently focused on the potential miscreant wearing a baggy hoody and baseball cap. Chelsea Market isn't a common haunt for those with struggling incomes or, let's be real, homeless. And the longer he lingers, the more agitated security becomes.

They have places to be, dangit. Or they don't, but they'd rather have less to think about.

The person in question is currently seated adjacent to a restaurant, head canted low at the circular table before him while soft focus is trained through his peripherals at diners in either direction. Fingers weave and re-weave together patiently, biding his time until- there it is! Someone vacates, carelessly leaving some scraps of fast food behind.

It happens in a single, fluid motion, more dodging his own chair than scooting it back as the urchin lifts to his full height and simply flows on to that table to assume the still-warm seat. Fries were left behind and abandoned. /Fries/! How wasteful!

No sooner does he lift a fry than his wrist is grabbed by one of the aforementioned mall security - a roundfaced man with a surly expression. "I knew it," he sighs.

He's met with a deer-in-headlights look as the vagabond processes his situation. "...oh, come on dude."

Mori Merritt has posed:
While the Market isn't a common haunt for Mori either, it does have some appealing food choices that sometimes drag her in. While money hasn't been the greatest lately (read: she's been donating to a HelpFundMe campaign), she does still have enough to treat herself to a little something. She's standing in line for some fast food herself when she catches a glimpse of the whole ordeal, from food abandoment to security's arrival.

There's a small frown as she steps out of the line, moving over in that direction. She smiles brightly at the security guard. "You know, weren't there some rules over here about bussing your own table when you're done?" She rests a hand on her hip, nodding in the direction the customers had left in. "Your criminals are getting away. You're really going to bug a kind soul cleaning up?"

Drake Riley has posed:
There's a joke to be made, and the scoundrel's mind has already written it: 'What is he, a suckerfish? Bussing tables with his mouth?' If he's lucky, the mall cop won't catch that. And as it happens, he doesn't!

"Ma'am," says the weary security personnel, "We don't allow vagrancy here." What she said does cause him to glower in the direction of the notably preppy individuals who ditched their leavings. It was clearly done with the intention of leaving it for some poor janitor to have to pick up after them. Or worse, /him/. And that thought grinds on him. Visibly. A tension in the jaw, a narrowing of the eyes. Oh, screw those kids.

He releases the urchin's wrist and snatches up the abandoned tray. He then proceeds to stalk after those responsible. They're about to be embarrassed by a rent-a-cop forcing them to throw away their scraps.

The youth left at the table stares for a second, blank. It starts as a small tremor at the shoulders, before soon blossoming into a full laugh in disbelief. The bright eyes retrain up to Mori, lopsided smile on his admittedly street-roughened face. "Okay, first, thanks. Second, they're gonna be /so/ salty."

Mori Merritt has posed:
Mori watches, her gaze following the security with an amused expression. "Yeah, they're gonna be pissed, but I'm sure it'll teach them a lesson. Or at least humiliate them in front of other people. Either way, everyone wins." She turns her attention back to the youth. "You don't need to thank me, I'm just glad to help." Turning her attention briefly back to the menu next to the restaurant, she glances back over.

"I don't have a lot of money, but if we both get something cheaper off the menu I should have just enough for two."

Drake Riley has posed:
The youth in question can't help but continue to snicker in mirth. New York hasn't been particularly hospitable since he arrived. That said, the streets of L.A. wouldn't have been, either. And who's he beyond just another hardluck case amidst how many? He can't fault people for prefering to do their own thing.

Mori, however, gets an appreciative smile once the snickering subsides. And that smile quickly vanishes with what she says, a kneejerk panic entering his voice. "Nono, you don't need to do that! You did plenty for me!," he protests as he lifts to his feet. "Get whatever you want, don't worry about me!"

Mori Merritt has posed:
"Trust me, I'm hungry all the time. So seeing someone who just wants something to eat?" Mori fishes around in her bag for wherever she stuffed her cash, retrieving it. "Don't worry, I'm not giving you my last dollar or anything, I'm just saying... I have enough for two people if we aren't living luxuriously." She glances back over at him, then nods. "I'm going to just get some food and come back here. Then if you just happen to want some of it, you can take some. Everyone wins."

Drake Riley has posed:
There's a quick downwards glance at the mention of her perpetual hunger, as if visually fact-checking the claim. And the skeptical look he raises to her face again suggests she might've gotten a pants-on-fire rating. But it quickly relaxes again at her conclusion, leaving the street urchin to simply smile at her again. His voice still has some reservation, but he submits with a, "Sure. Sounds reasonable..."

Random acts of generosity? No, that he isn't used to. It doesn't raise heckles or send him into a high alert status, but it's still jarring. And the moment she happens to move away, he's quickly rubbing at his face and raising his hat to paw through his hair in some effort to look at least reasonable, suddenly extremely aware of his disheveled and unkempt status.

But by the time she returns, he'll be seated again, sheepishly fidgeting about his fingertips. The fussing with his appearance accomplished nothing of note.

Mori Merritt has posed:
Given that she's just offering food and nothing else, Mori figures she's pretty non-threatening. Fetching some of the cheapest burgers on the menu and as many fries as they'd add to the order (sometimes it helps to be really nice and just ask), she brings the tray over to the table with a spring in her step. "See, all this and I've still got... twelve cents left over."

Budgeting is a skill! She seats herself, sliding the tray towards him to let him have first dibs. "I appreciate the company, by the way. I don't like eating alone much." Ah-ha! It's an equal exchange. Less charity, more of a trade of food for company. He's doing /her/ a favor.

Drake Riley has posed:
He might buy it. He might not. It's hard to say. He's just eyeing the food; not quite in the right mind to question motives. In fairness, he doesn't usually carry a suspicious attitude under normal circumstances. She doesn't know his secret(s). He doesn't know anything about her other than she's a nice person.

A burger is taken, sheepish energy still on full force.

He doesn't know anything about her. That doesn't seem right. Especially if she wants company. "So, what can I call you?," he asks suddenly, gaze lifting to her again. "Somehow I don't think Burger Santa suits you."

Mori Merritt has posed:
"I would think I'm more of a fairy godmother than a Santa," Mori notes, grabbing for a fry. "But you can call me Mori, as that does happen to be my name. Not an exciting one, but it's not bad as far as names go. Memorable, I think. I don't know any other Moris." She unwraps her burger as she glances over at him. "You have a name you go by? Doesn't have to be your real one." She's not being pushy!

Drake Riley has posed:
"I don't know any Moris, either," he notes. "I know Maries. Did they typo your birth certificate? I hear that happens." His smile takes a teasing tilt at the question, and he unwraps the burger. Her sincerity in her counter-question gets a sudden blink, then chuckle. "Oh yeah. They call me Captain Unseasonable Wardrobe. Can you guess what my superpower is?," he jokes. No, the alias is for when he's doing his best to hide his identity. Not so much for when his face is on full display.

"Drake," he says finally. "And- thank you."

Mori Merritt has posed:
"So when I was a kid I lived kind of in a rural part of Washington, by the mountains there. My mom was really fond of the forest there and wanted to find some way to use it in a name. Mori is the Japanese word for forest, I think?" Mori looks amused and grabs another fry. "I'm not sure that's even accurate and I am certainly not Japanese either." She grins. "So I just get something weird and memorable I guess."

His mention of clothing related superpowers gets her to look down at her own wardrobe. "Oh cool, can I be your sidekick? I've got like... three pairs of clothes right now. Everything else went up in a blaze. Literal." Doesn't seem to drag her down though, as she offers another smile. "Nice to meet you, Drake."

Drake Riley has posed:
"Sure," Drake nods, bobbing the burger in her direction, "You can be Sensible Fashionista. You have clothes that look normal, and you get a cooler name than me. Sorry, it's still sidekick pay."

With a playful grin, he lifts the burger to bite finally. Polite chewing, considering her words, then a nod as he swallows.

"Housefire?," he asks bluntly, but with just the slightest tilt of his head that manages to be sympathetically curious.

Mori Merritt has posed:
Mori Merritt says, "Sensible Fashionista? I'll take it. It's a job someone has to do," Mori replies, taking a bite of her own burger. She waits until she's done chewing before replying. "Dorm fire a couple of weeks ago. I mean, the building didn't collapse, but... if I hadn't left my bag accidently at a friend's, I wouldn't have anything at this point. But sidekicks don't need a lot of outfits anyways, they're forgettable. Just have to keep a color scheme."

She pauses, briefly, trying to think if any of her remaining clothing /has/ a color scheme. "Anyway, I'm not dead, no one else died, so I guess that's a win.""

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley winces at the explanation. "Yeah, okay, but still. That has to suck. What about being sent some of your clothes from home? Or did you take everything to college?" There's a beat of silence before he clarifies, "You did mean college, right?"

The burger gets more nibbles, but his focus is trained fully on her at this point.

Mori Merritt has posed:
"Yeah, college," Mori agrees, nodding in his direction while snatching up another fry. "I took most of my stuff, but I guess my family could send me some things. I kind of... haven't told them?" She looks a bit sheepish. "I really should have, but... I guess I dug my own hole with taht one at this point. I didn't want anyone to worry." She takes another bite of her burger.

Eventually, she looks back over. "I mean, I probably had too much crap I didn't need anyway, right? My sketchbook's fine, though, and that's all I really cared about. Just kind of awkward if someone asks me to go to an event or something I don't have the clothes for."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley works through most of the burger while she talks, making some effort to take it easy and not be so obvious in his craving for food. But he pauses to stare at her a bit more intently when she admits she didn't tell her family. "For real? It's your clothes, you need'em, right? I doubt they'd even ask questions, if it's like... I don't know, a 'thing' over stuff burning down. Like if you don't want'em being worried about you. I say 'like' a lot," he notes, suddenly very self-aware. Is it a nervous vocal tick? Something. He's going to make a conscious effort to avoid it now.

"Back home, we didn't have dress codes to worry about so much. Or that's what the tourism board told people." He shoots her a grin, offering a way out of dwelling on her life's upheaval. "I'm from Cali'."

Mori Merritt has posed:
"West coast best coast?" Mori offers with a grin. "I dunno, I guess I just don't know how to explain suddenly needing clothes." She rubs the back of her neck with one hand, the other scooting more fries in his direction almost casually. /Had/ she noticed the pace he was eating? "I just figure if someone needs a plus one for a fancy dinner or a party or something, or if I had a job interview? Yeah, I've got nothing there."

She takes a few nibbles of her burger before talking again. "Besides, you don't really need that many outfits if you keep them clean and take care of them. I think the school's supposed to pay me when they figure out insurance liabilities or whatnot but I haven't gotten that yet." She gestures towards him with a fry. "So, Captain Unseasonable Wardrobe, I'm guessing you don't have snappy interview attire either."

Drake Riley has posed:
Eyes dart to the fries. God, they're tempting. Maybe one is okay.

Alright, two. Okay a few. It's her fault, she keeps talking and giving him chance to deftly snatch up more of them.

When prompted, Drake's eyebrows raise and he glances down at his profoundly frumpy attire, then back to her. "What do you mean? I was told I'm wearing the finest new clothes."

A beat following the joke, his head ducks self-consciously. "Yeah. No. Nothing like that. My wardrobe might be a little more limited than yours right now."

Mori Merritt has posed:
Talking and giving him an opportunity to eat fries? Mori just seems to be falling right into that trap as she idly pushes more of the fries towards him. She's taking her time with her burger anyway. "Hey, sorry, I didn't mean that in a mean way. It was more in kind of a... I get what that's like a little? Solidarity." She smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, I was really trying to kind of make a joke about things."

She proceeds to take a big bite of her burger to distract herself from whatever she feels like she stepped in.

Drake Riley has posed:
"'Cuz homelessness is high-larious," Drake teases, bobbing a french-fry at her in mock-accusation. Should she spare a look at him again, she'll be met with a lighthearted smile, despite. "Don't sweat it. I don't offend easy. At least not at stuff that's, like, obvious." He catches himself immediately after and scrunches his nose. "I said like again. Ugh."

Another fry serves as distraction, albeit extremely brief.

"What're you studyin'?"

Mori Merritt has posed:
Mori points a fry accusingly back towards him. "Hey, /I/ don't have a home either. I just have a friend who has a couch. So I'm laughing at both of us." She pops the fry into her mouth before offering a smile back at him. She looks oddly energized by the conversation. "Stop trying to worry about the 'like' thing. I'm not judging you and this isn't a job interview so you don't need to impress me."

She pats her messenger bag, which she never really bothered to sling off when she sat down. Presumedly, that's where the precious sketchbook is. "Art, people seem to like my stuff okay."

Drake Riley has posed:
"Yeah, but I sound so... /valley/," Drake says with a self-aware cringe. Comfortably middle-class Californian. It has a sound. He has it. New Yorkers sound quite different to his ear.

The bright emeralds shift immediately to the messenger bag as it's patted, and while she explains, he's occupying himself with more fries. It's become nearly mindless at this point.

"Okay, so obviously you know you've gotta show me now," he concludes as he adds another fry to the casualty list. "Can't just put attention on it, low-key brag, and /not/ show." The corners of his lips edge upwards in a challenging grin.

Mori Merritt has posed:
Mori blinks. "I... wait, I bragged?" She actually looks shocked. "Oof. Don't know where that came from. I just meant that honestly. A couple of people like it and some people buy art, so I figure I'm doing something right." She does smile, though, shifting to pull the sketchbook out. Once she's got it in hand, she sets nearby, where none of the fry grease will get on it.

She wasn't wrong. Her sketches are good. Grounded in realism, very photorealistic in style, she's got a lot of vivid landscapes and faces, some colored in with colored pencils. Beautiful scenes with sparkling stars in the sky, sunsets, forests. Mixed in with the rest of them are some that look a little sharper in comparison. There's something off about it--the plants have a certain bent to them, whatever architecture is in them seems to be more exotic in nature, and the colors are vibrant and strange. There are a couple of pages that seem to have once had something on them but have been entirely covered by a charcoal pencil in vicious scribbles.

Drake Riley has posed:
An artist would pick up on these things, or speculate over their meaning. An artist would scrutinize the telltale scratches of old work masked over.

Drake is not an artist.

"Wow," he exhales as the images are displayed in sequence. His head tilts a few degrees one way, then the other as he studies them. "You really are good. What are these, just sketches? Have you tried painting?," he asks. Somehow painting feels more 'legitimate' to his muggle mind. "People must be stoked when they find out you draw'em.."

Mori Merritt has posed:
"Painting is fun but it's like..." Mori frowns, trying to figure out the phrasing. "It doesn't translate as well from my brain as pure drawing does. I don't have the kind of mastery over paint that I do with pencil. It's incredibly frustrating sometimes." She does smile brightly, however, leaning over to try and get a better sense of which ones he seems to linger on for longer--seeing which ones are the most appealing.

"There's this guy who wants me to do some giant painting of this place over in England but I don't know if he's entirely serious. That's like getting asked to paint the Sistine Chapel. That doesn't just happen, y'know?" She laughs. "Most people don't know I'm drawing them. I've got a photographic memory, I usually do a lot of drawing to try and... get it out, I guess? Not like it leaves my head but. Something like that."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley is focusing on one of the faces she's drawn, noting the exact level of detail. He isn't an artist, but his typical artstyle would err towards the general simplicity one might consider more... well, cartoonish. So this is like Mozart to him. On paper. "England? What, is Moneybags gonna fly ya out there? I mean, if he does, you should totally do it. Except not in paint, because obviously."

He leans back and places his focus on the girl in question. "A photographic memory, huh? So this little moment, me - that's always gonna be up there?," he asks with a nod of his head towards her. He likely means to indicate her head.

Mori Merritt has posed:
"He was the kind of guy who just /buys/ art in galleries," Mori does sound pretty surprised, mostly because /who does that/? "I don't know if he'd give me a picture to go off of but if he offers a free trip abroad just so I can see it to paint it? Oh yeah, there's no passing up something like that. That's the kind of thing you enter a contest to win and then they write a whole magazine article about the experience."

His mention of her memory gets a small nod. "You don't get much of a choice, you're in there now. Hope you weren't trying to be forgetful, cause you're out of luck in this case."

Drake Riley has posed:
"Me? Wish to be forgetful? Not a chance. I'd shoot for memorable any time. Just wish I had a comb or something, that's all," Drake jokes with boyish grin and wink. "Still... that has to be extreme." The mirth fades back into a more sincere level, while he offhandedly nabs another couple fries. Supplies are starting to run out! "I don't know if it'd be a blessing or curse. Maybe both, huh? Remembering everyone so clearly... but not being able to forget what you'd wanna leave behind..."

Mori Merritt has posed:
Mori laughs. "Ah, so you're trying to be memorable? I hate to tell you, but that hair's stuck in my head forever now. I'll take that unruly mess to my grave." It's a lighthearted tone, genuinely sounding amused at the idea. It's tempered by the mention of it being extreme and she nods slowly. "Yeah, it's both. Nice to be able to remember of the faces of the people I meet and the places I go but... I don't know if it's worth it. Some things aren't meant to be recalled. People block out memories for reasons. There's certainly things in my head I don't want there."

There's a small smile. "But don't worry, I think you're a good one. Messy hair or not." That's a tease.

Drake Riley has posed:
"What a wretched fate I've found," Drake laments with a somber, yet somehow theatric slouch. Being remembered for messy hat-hair is one thing. But it's more his lack of ability to maintain himself while living on the street that's the real problem. He knows he doesn't look good like this. It sucks.

The matter of forgetting things by choice is one that hits close to home for him; literall, at that. But it's a point that neither seems to want to dwell on, and she's tee'd him up for a more lighthearted direction anyway. "That's sweet of you. But for the record, and just so we're clear - I clean up really well." Drake leans back into his chair with a playfully smug smile. "Gotta take my word on it."

Mori Merritt has posed:
There's some laughter there. Mori fishes for one of the remaining fries. "I'll believe you. If I had a shower of my own I'd offer you the chance to clean up but I'm already imposing on someone else in that aspect. But hey, how about I hold you to that promise and at some point you prove it?" She smiles in his direction. "Then I can have both versions in my head. Before and after, like those dramatic makeover shows." The image of that, or whatever she's picturing in her head, seems infinitely amusing as she goes back to eating the last of her burger.

Drake Riley has posed:
"It's cool, I'd feel like I was imposing anyway," Drake notes, his smile shifting from smug to passive. The mention of him proving it, however, adds a little more energy to that smile. "Yeah. Done deal. No idea how that's gonna work, but you got it. Bonus points if we can find one of those chairs like at a hair salon where I'll spin around for that big reveal," he adds, a chuckle edging his voice.

Mori Merritt has posed:
"I dunno, I think there's a lot to be said about motivating factors. You want something hard enough, you can probably convince other people to help you get that." Mori nods in his direction. "I think you'll figure out something. Get creative. If you're looking hard enough, you can find the light spots that actually exist in New York. I swear they're around in some places." She laughs again. "I'll add to the pot. You get all cleaned up and we do a big reveal? I'll draw you both ways. Then you can see just what I can see."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley knows a thing or two about motivation. And acting with intent. He doesn't have any resources to draw from, nor does he have many options that he can see to achieve his goal, but he /does/ have a plan. It's hairbrained, and it makes him feel kind'a guilty, but it's most definitely a plan, and it's just as definitively his. For better or worse.

But hopefully better.

She gets a cagey smile. "I know."

And the a balk at the idea of being drawn exactly as he is. He hasn't even seen a mirror in a few days. "A-ah, wha? You'd wanna draw me like /this/? Why would you abuse paper like that?"

Mori Merritt has posed:
Mori offers him a smile. "Well, you ruined the surprise but I was gonna just draw you the same way twice and present them as a before and after and give you some inspirational speech about how its been the same you all along." She laughs, patting the sketchbook. "But now I think I'll do both versions so that you can see you aren't as bad as you think you are."

She pauses for a moment. "I totally realized I've got no way to get ahold of you again after this point, honestly. I'm by the fountain in Washington Square Park a lot, where you can see the NYU dorms. You can still see the spot where I almost died from there."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley's expression mellows into a look of endearment, guilty smile rediscovered. "That's /disgustingly/ sweet of you," he chides, but without hint of venom. It's a sincere compliment, delivered in as casual a way he could think off the top of his head. "But if I turn to stone when you show me the 'before' image, it's totally on you."

He glances to the tray. Oh. Food gone. His focus resumes onto her. "Wait, you were /in/ the fire? I thought you were just out somewhere when it happened!"

Mori Merritt has posed:
"Hey, I'm not stone, so unless I've got a superpower to resist such things, you're out of luck on that one," Mori leans on the table a bit, still offering a smile. It's genuine, as seems to be all of what she puts forth. The fire talk again has her looking a bit more sheepish. "Oh, uh, that's sort of why I didn't mention it to my family. I was right in the middle of it. I mean, if no one had come in there I'd be dead for sure. It was a real superhero ordeal, costumes and all. I got shrunk and put in some kind of bubble thing and carried out. If it weren't so scary it probably would have been pretty cool."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley's eyes suddenly overwhelm his facial real-estate, and he leans in a bit more. "No way! Really? A superhero did that? Shrank you? Did it hurt? Did it make you kind'a queasy? I don't know how it couldn't, all your inside-bits getting smushed down or whatever...," he gushes. "Who was it that came in? And what happened to start the fire in the first place? Someone burn the popcorn?"

Mori Merritt has posed:
Mori blinks, though the talk of the fire does make her slightly uncomfortable again. "Well, it was the Wasp? Or maybe she's called Waspette? The younger one, she's one of the Titans. Just kind of shrunk me down in the equivalent of the bottle, some of the other students were in there too. Just kind of scooped us all up and took us to safety. It was like a whole room in there." She rubs the back of her neck. "Cool to think about but it was really scary at the time. I was in a lot of pain."

She pauses to clarify. "I didn't get burned, there was just this high pitched alarm and it made me feel really sick so I was just kind of... not really able to get up. So I was stuck there in the fire. I, uh, think the school ruled it as some kind of wiring malfunction or something?"

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley nods along as she recants, excited at what sounds like straight up magic to him. Sure, he can shoot lightning from his hands, and do a number of wild things with it. But this is other people. Other people with weird abilities. It's fascinating, and exhilarating, and she looks kind of uncomfortable, why?

He blinks owlishly.

Oh. That must have been traumatic for her. That makes sense.

"For what it's worth, I'm really glad Wasp.. Waspette.. whichever, saved the day. You're good people, Mori. Not a lot of people would've bothered with a guy like me," he notes. "And you may not have special powers, but things like that mean a lot."

His head ducks slightly. "Not to get all heavy on ya or anything."

Mori Merritt has posed:
Even if it seems a little harder to talk about than sketching before and after makeover pictures, Mori doesn't seem to be too weighed down. There's a lightness to her attitude. "Nah, don't worry about it. /I/ get heavy on me. I'm used to it. But people /should/ bother with other people. You don't seem like a bad person, just a hungry one. Food's not something anyone should be selfish with, you know?" There's a grin in his direction.

"How do you know I don't have superpowers? Maybe I've got something really cool."

Drake Riley has posed:
It's on the tip of his tongue to teasingly suggest her superpower is incinerating most of her clothes. But he catches it before that joke gets away from him. Instead, that same easy smile finds his face as he leans in. "That's a thought. But I won't have you spoiling your secret identity to me, Sensible Fashionista," he teases. "Instead... if you could have a power, what would it be?" He perks, "And what kind of costume would you have?"

Mori Merritt has posed:
That's clearly something she hasn't thought about, so Mori rests her head on a hand, elbow on the table as she thinks. "I'd want it to be something helpful. It doesn't have to be flashy, maybe if I could heal people that would be pretty cool. But the outfit would have to be pretty and have a cape." She laughs. "I don't know. I'm not much of a hero type, but I do like to help people. Healing can be really low-key, you wouldn't even need an outfit for that... but I'd still like a dress and a cape, all that fabric flapping in the wind. It's a great image."

She nods in his direction. "What about you? You strike me as a..." She does seem to be in serious thought for a moment. "Some kind of speedster. Zipping around and being wherever you'd like in a heartbeat."

Drake Riley has posed:
'Oh, not an extremely dangerous electrical monster?,' Drake imagines his answer. No, he won't be saying that. She fed him an easy out. He's taking it.

"I could dig that. Running around crazy fast wherever I need to go. Saving people so fast they get whiplash." He thinks better of it. "Should probably try to avoid the whiplash. But anyway, I couldn't get away with the cape like that, could I? It'd have to be something more formfitting. Maybe something blue. Though I have to agree, capes are totally where it's at for superheroes, and you'd probably look awesome."

Mori Merritt has posed:
Mori's expression is kind, shifting her chin to the opposite hand when her arm goes a bit numb. "You could put out fire by going fast enough, that's pretty heroic. Then you can scoop them up and save the day in a leisurely manner. Heroics with a sense of timing."

The cape talk seems to brighten her even more. "Maybe I'll just get a cape and wear it around. I'll just do what I normally do and then when someone asks me what my superpower is I'll just say 'saving lives' and go on doing exactly what I'm doing." She gestures at him. "I could've saved your life and you don't even know it. Pretty powerful stuff."

Drake Riley has posed:
"Really? I thought fastfood kills people," Drake jokes. "Nono, but seriously though, I totally support you wearing a cape just walking around. Rock that whole 'eccentric rich person' chic." He offers her one of those wide, playful smiles that somehow always includes eyes shutting for a few seconds.

A glance aside, however, breaks the expression. "Hn. What time is it? I should probably start- ah, movin' on." He very nearly admitted he needs to find a nice, secure alleyway to bunker into. The homeless life doesn't afford him much dignity. But there's no need to revel in it.

Mori Merritt has posed:
Mori smiles back at him, but she offers a little nod. "Yeah, I get it. I gotta make sure I don't drop in at my friend's place at weird hours. Getting kind of awkward. I'll figure it out." She tilts her head as she looks at him. "You keep your chin up and look after yourself. You seem tough. And you owe me a 'cleaned up' version, so, I'm trusting you to come through with that."

She moves to put away the wrappings onto the tray to straighten up their table. She'll actually bus it, unlike those kids from before. "Washington Square Park. Fountain. You need anything, look for me there. I'll bring snacks."

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley scoots back to lift to his feet along with her, helping to straighten up the tray with her. A part of him hopes the mall security officer is watching.

"I'll be alright. The trick's to keep moving, right?," he posits, right hand lifting in a breezy, upbeat shrug. "Besides, we've got a deal. And I don't flake on deals. Washington Square Park, fountain." Firm nod. "It's gonna happen."

He glances aside briefly, then says more warmly, "And thanks, Mori-like-the-Japanese-word-for-forest."

Mori Merritt has posed:
"Alright Drake, I trust you'll come through for me," Mori lets him take the tray to its proper place. Maybe she's hoping security will notice too. It gives her the chance to tuck her sketchpad back into her bag anyway. "But you don't have to thank me. That's the kind of things friends just do for each other, right?" There's that bright smile again.

"I'll see you soon."