3284/The Hobo Rescuing Foundation

The Hobo Rescuing Foundation
Date of Scene:	08 September 2020
Location:	Chelsea Piers
Synopsis:	So, we find out that at best Arthur would be a bum, not a hobo. But now he owes Harley Quinn for a soup and a good deed. So there's that!
Cast of Characters:	Arthur Curry, Harley Quinn

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Arthur Curry has posed:
    They did some good work down at the Chelsea Piers. It used to ust be this place where the big ships would come in, rest as they took on passengers and then head off back to the ocean carrying its complement of the fortunate who were able to afford the long glamorous trips from here to cities beyond. But ever since the docks along the East River opened up, that traffic shifted down there. While up at the Chelsea Piers? People had ideas to renovate.
    The marina still functioned for smaller ships, but those large berths that were there for the big ones? Entirely renovated for tourists. Shopping everywhere, restaurants, art studios, event centers. All right there on the river. For most people it was like a mall near the water. For some old sailors it was more just hilarious.
    So when an old friend of Arthur's father let him know he'd be putting in for some repairs nearby, the conversation had led to them going to the piers in part to laugh and in part to reminisce. It was rare that the young lighthouse keeper got to hob nob with his father's friends, to hear tales about him from their time together.
    But the main thing that accompanies sailors when they're spinning yarns? Is drinking. A lot of drinking. So much drinking.
    Which ultimately led to here, in this particular back alley. Close enough to the water that a sea gull might be seen high above. But far enough into the city to be away from the river. Yet even in the state of repose he's in, lying on his side, back against an old broken billboard sign in the depths of this particular alley... with a stray cat apparently having decided to lay down on his chest and look entirely content while the large man /snores/... he seems to have found at least some measure of peace.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Last couple of days have been harsh enough. That bittersweet feeling of having found a bounty hunting venture to pursue but then spiraling back down with the news of a friend's supposed death. So what did a clownette do to think on things? The most random shit she could think of, clearly..

In this case it was going to Chelsea, standing up on one of the buildings, her bat in hand and a box of baseballs on the ground.

The target? The large bell at the pier to announce incoming ships. Granted it was more a museum piece than anything, already it having been subbed by more modern devices. But it is the thought that counts, no matter how crazy it is. Balls fly by, even one passing close to the 'hobo' ambling about the pier. Maybe it was just a fly?! Well, being drunk like that would probably make it so it didn't look like anything too important..

But it's when her quest for success makes it so a ball hits a naval police officer on the back of the head that she 'ooopsies' and decides to get outta there.. No need to get DQ'ed outta the pier like Djokovic...

She slinks out to get some food to bring home.. Soup, sandwiches. A little extra in case April wants some and, of course, a BIG EXTRA for her hyenas. She is so thoughtful...

And with wanting to escape the naval officers roaming the place she of course finds herself walking down that same alley where the fisher king is taking a nap.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    That alley had seen better days, and this time of the morning was just that right moment in time with the sun climbing up and starting to cast a heavy ray of sunshine lengthwise down that walkthrough. But it's not the sunlight that causes the cat on Arthur Curry's chest to hiss and rear up then /run/ away, skittering down the alleyway and disappearing into an open drain. But perhaps the approach of the gal with the baseball bat.
    But the rushed flight of the cat digging its claws in as it breaks into a run is enough to abruptly stop that snoring with a /SNRK!/ and suddenly there's the clang of knocked over glass and the tink of metal cans as the large man who had been lying there sits up abruptly.
    "The hell?" Is murmured, low, quiet and not likely to carry too far. But now she might well see him. The wild hair, the army surplus jacket, the canvas pants and heavy brown work boots. Definitely a guy who dresses in a particular way that might well make one imagine him down on his luck. And the fact that he smells of liquor and spends the first few moments of awareness rubbing at his head... doesn't exactly help his image any.
    "Oh man." He says a little louder, then lifts a hand to his chest and says indignantly, "Ow."
    Bad kitty.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley looks, well, like Harley. A tight t-shirt with the bat-sign across the chest, pair of jean shorts, sneakers.. The pigtails with tips of different colors.. Well, typical her. She was whistling down the alley, the bat over one hand, the bag of food in the other...

The sound makes her come to a stop though. Screeching halt even! A hobo? She eyes the figure before glancing down at her bag.. And to heck with it, today was the random shit day, where she just went with impulsive stuff so...!

It was time for a good deed!

She searches inside her bag and brings out a bowl. Soup? She carefully places it atop a trash can and slides it across as if in offering.

"Theah ya go.." She even smiles. Wide grin too. And yes, she is mistaking Arthur for a homeless person in clear need of a nice, warm soup.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    The look of confusion on Arthur's features is a clear thing, just the signs are all there with the furrow to his brow, the slight scowl to his lips, and the flaring of nostrils as if he smelled something bad. Wait. He did smell something bad. A brief check of himself is given, sniff sniff at the arm pit but that could just be... ah, the dead sea gull across the way. Phew, at least it wasn't... too much him.
    But then he's looking up, bleary-eyed and scowling at the way the sun is hanging in the sky, as if its very existence was an insult to him. But Harley, she isn't exactly wrong. The way the guy's looking in that moment, it's a fair mistake anyone could make. Though now, as he's just realizing that the clanging sound in the distance isn't a ship coming in, but the way his headache is hammering at him, then there's a cup of soup being handed o him.
    And the way she's standing there, mostly just a silhouette with the sun shining behind her, thankfully blocking out the light as she slides that trash can toward him with... soup? It's almost angelic in a way.
    "Hey," He says, sitting up still on the ground, drawing his knees up to rest his forearms on them, then looking to the side at he offered soup. "That's uh..."
    A pause as his eyebrows climb and he murmurs quietly, his voice raspy from a long night shouting and singing and laughing. "That's mighty kind of you." And as he says that he leans forward and takes up the bowl in both hands, pulls off the lid a little and sniffs.
    Then glances at her sidelong as he takes his first sip. "Don't I know you?"
    Poor guy.
    Must just be a little down on his luck. Sure he looks rough around the edges. But with a shave, and a haircut, and maybe some clothes. Heck he'd clean up good then. Might even be able to get a job.

Harley Quinn has posed:
With the soup now having been delivered via Harley express she folds her arms together, hip slightly jutting to the side while she waits to see if the hobo will be taking it or not. Her eyebrow quirks up a bit while the man sniffs himself to reality. And yep, reality check! Maybe a bath is in order.

But it's when the man starts to take the soup that the clownette claps her hands together. "Good goin'" she exclaims. "And hey, ya still got all yoh teeth. I could had got you somethin' moah solid." she still has her bag of food afterall!

"A lotta people know me, I am like that, remindin' eeeeeveweeeone of the gal next dooh." If the girl next door was a twisted, crazied clownette. But it's the thought that counts.

She leans over, hands resting on her knees and she slightly bent towards the man. "Now eat it all. Who's a good boy? Yea, you aheeee!" She's very helpful.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    That little round of attention gets her affixed with a sort of sideways glance that's part incredulous, part wary, but still... part thankful. Since as he takes a sip of the soup his eyebrows lift up and he murmurs, "This..."
    A hand lifts to rest on the garbage can and he /hefts/ himself upwards, starting to climb to his feet as he holds up that bowl of soup toward her, "This is pretty good."
    And as he's getting up, he starts to stand up. And up and up. Almost seeming as if he were just growing until he's at his full height almost a full foot taller than her, and taking another sip of the soup with a faint slurp coming from him.
    "Thanks," He tells her with a nod, lifting the bowl to her. Now she can get a better look at him. What might've been just strange mesh or grime now looks to be... elaborate tattoos that mark the lines and contours of the man's decidedly well built chest, visible where that army surplus shirt hangs open. He's got strong hands, a powerful build, and those eyes are a dark shade of amber.
    Then he wavers a little and sits down on one of those heavy garbage bins, causing it to clang faintly. He tells her, "Appreciate it."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Fuck yea it is." Harls replies with a sharp nod of her own. Of course that saying the soup wasn't good could had merited a whack with her bat. But let's not go there... Instead she watches the man go up and up until he is covering the sun... She cranes her neck to look up at Arthur. "Ok, someone got theah wheaties when they weah small.." she takes note of the tattoos and musculature. Clearly not the usual type of hobo she comes across usually.

Not that there is anything usual or normal with Harley's life.

"Always good ta help someone down on theah luck." Well, not always... "Fine, fine. Not always, but dont think April will mind too much if I don't bring the soup back home."

She taps on her chest, over th bat sign, and says. "I am Hah'lee."

Arthur Curry has posed:
    At her casual statement about how damn good the soup is, Arthur's expression slips toward a smirk though he hides it with another slurp of the soup. He does wince a little, however, just a slight squinty-eyed grimace as his body reminds him that this whole morning thing and bright light thing... it's not for him right now with the amount of drinking he did last night.
    "Oh man, my head." He lowers the soup container and grimaces, pushing a hand against his temple then shakes his head slowly before he sort of peeks out at her with one eyeball, squinting a little.
    "Harley." He says, as if making sure he's got it right, "Like the motorcycle?" He asks which makes him smile a little more though this time it's not hidden behind the soup.
    Then he touches a hand with several rings on it to his chest and murmurs to her, "Arthur."
    The Fisher King.

Harley Quinn has posed:
The comparison to some motobike name makes those blue eyes go wider and a snort to leave her. "Sure, thas right! Do I look like some fuckin' motobike ta ride oh what you sayin?" then she extends one arm suddenly, one finger pointing up. "Wait, you don't answah that."

She gives a quick peek over her shoulder just to make sure the officers haven't caught up with her just yet. So far so good though! No sounds of anyone approaching the alley just yet.

It's when Arthur introduces himself that she peeks back at him, taking note of in a thoughtful manner. "Ahteh. Ya mean like the King outta the stowies? Missin' yoh Excalibur though!" Yes, she laughs at her own joke. She's the type to do that. And she seems awfully proud of it.

Arthur Curry has posed:
    He had, in fact, been about to say something only her admonishment stops him from voicing it, but her pointing at him stops him in his tracks as he gives a solemn nod as if to say, 'never would make that comparison,' which he just did.
    "Yeah," His poor loss of excalibur. Arthur says as he takes another sip of soup, "Mighta left it in the bar, hopefully they have a lost and found." His lip twists up as he looks at her.
    "Thanks for this, you want some before I slurp it down?" He asks her as he gestures with the bowl, since really he's /damn/ hungry and this is hitting the spot. Then he turns and looks around slowly, and asks her off-hand, "And any idea where we are?" As if not sure how far he might've wondered after last night.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Get that shit insured next time." Harley replies with a shrug of her shoulders, moving a bit further ahead on the alley, jumping up to one of the trash cans and then further up to a ledge. Not really the type to stay still while chatting. She finds her balance there and then replies.

"Some piah outta Chelsea?" is what she replies. "Not Chelsea England, mind ya. Youse in the states." because everyone could do that mistake!

"But ya don't seem ta be from heah eithah." the woman pivoting on one foot to look down at the big man. "Oh theah." she says. "So wheah ya from?"

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "Maine," Arthur says as he starts walking, big boots scuffing the ground as he starts to move in the direction she's moving. Though at the first few steps he winces, one eye scrunching up as he makes some unpleasant grunt of a sound, brain getting used to the whole locomotion thing again. But, true to his word, he tilts back the bowl and takes a long series of swallows, downing the contents of the soup and chewing for a time before he continues.
    "Own a lighthouse up thattaway." She can likely tell with the distracted way he's walking, looking off in the distance, he's trying to piece together the evening and not having too much luck with it. But at least he remembers where he lives ostensibly.
    Then his eyes track after her as she leaps up and moves with that casual grace, eyebrows lifting slightly before he adds, "And you, Harley? Where are you from?" As he asks that he walks a few steps to the next recycle bin and tosses the empty soup container into it, closing its plastic cover with a thump.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Maine? Fuck off, noone comes fwom Maine!" Harley replies, her head shaking and those ponytails bouncing about her head. "Like, ya know, bein' from Cleveland.." she continues walking alongside that low ledge off the side of the building, keeping a perfect balance.

"Gotham. But I am takin a time heah in New Yoahk now. Findin' a new pespective and awl that, ya know?"

But then she comes to a stop, as if she had just reached some sudden realization. "Hol' up." she squints her eyes to look back down at Arthur. "Ya got a lighthouse? I thought you were a hobo! Now ya owe me, like, the soup." Yep!

Arthur Curry has posed:
    "For real, Maine." Arthur says still rubbing at his head a little as he murmurs, "Amnesty Bay, just North of Bangor." But after that he sort of shakes his head and seems to be coming back to himself, even smiling as his own powers of recovery start to work their magic on the burned out brain cells he so abused the other night.
    Then she mentions she's from Gotham and is trying to get a new perspective which causes him to nod a few times as he looks up and down the alleyway. "Yah a lot of that goin' round." The whole introspective journey thing, seems to be a common cause.
    But when she calls him a hobo, does he get growly, irate, annoyed at her supposition? Nah, he sort of laughs a little and shakes his head looking back at her askance, something bright in those amber eyes as for once his smile is a genuine thing without a tinge of malice to it.
    "Hobo?" He asks, no negativity there as he crinkles his nose. "Doesn't that sort of imply a railroad theme? Nah, word you're looking for is bum." He's up to date on his various terms for the homeless, so insightful.
    "But fine, sure. What do ya want?" In exchange for the soup. "Looks like yer set for breakfast yourself there already."

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Ahteh from Maine. Ok, whatever rocks ya boat ah suppose." Is Harley's response, her shoulders again in a carefree shrug. "Ya just still look like a fish outta watah heah. Trust me. I am a doctah." so insightful too. "Could smell it off ya." she tapping a fingertip to her nose.

"Yea, but you ain't a bum eitha, so that sohta ruins my good deed o' the week doesn't it?" It's a shame really, and all Arthur's fault. "So, both foh the soup AND ruinin' mah good deed you gonna be owin' me. Big time." she pointing a finger at Arthur now.

"And I always collect." A manic little grin coming to be at the woman's features while she continues her elegant walk up there as if she was some kind of cat. No loss of balance there!

She is about to add something else when there's a sound coming from the mouth of the alley, a group of naval guys appearing. They point. "That's the one! Get her!"

Harley's eyes go wide. "Ah shit. Gotta go Ahteh! Don't forget what I told ya." she jumps back down to the ground and sets off into a run.

"Ya owe me!" and off she goes!