412/Hey, I just met you...

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Hey, I just met you...
Date of Scene: 10 March 2020
Location: Centennial Park - New Troy
Synopsis: Colette and Terry have a moment to catch up. Colette manages to resist not punching Terry through a wall. Colette harbors secret homicidal fantasies instead of punching. Be more like Colette. Wait.
Cast of Characters: Colette O'Connail, Terry O'Neil




Colette O'Connail has posed:
*tinkletinklerelaxinghippyishtextnotificationsound*

    Terry has recieved a short text message.

    Colette: Did you try to feed Garfield to a turtle?

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry wakes and reaches over for the phone, which was next to the couch. He blinks as he reads the text and types.

Terry: What? No. A giant turtle attacked him. Had to take him to the hospital.

Terry: Wait. How do you know this?

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    The answer comes back very quickly.

    Colette: Is he OK?

Rapidly followed by:

     Colette: You are on youtube.

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry curses, and blinks. He looks over and makes sure Gar is still asleep... yep, still passed out, propped up against him.

Terry: He's recovering. It's... very difficult. He's staying with me.

He looks, once again, at the sleeping Gar, and hastily types.

Terry: You wanna meet somewhere? The park? There's hot dogs around at this time.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    This time there's a pause of a few minutes before the reply comes through. This is because Colette has her head in her hands, and is shaking it slightly in disbelief. Is Terry some kind of danger magnet? How does he keep getting himself - and now Gar - in so much trouble? Does she /really/ want to entrust Kian into the care of these idiots? And why the hell is she now worried that Terry is going to go on a stakeout without the injured Gar and get himself killed? She has more important things to think about that some cub reporter who hasn't got the sense to...

    Colette: Yeah, sure. See you in 15?

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry: Sure, I'll be there.

Terry slowly slides out from under Gar, doing his best not to wake the Titan.

Then he comes back and puts a blanket over him before he walks out.

Twenty minutes later, he is at the park, walking towards the Hot Dog vendor.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
"SCOOPS! Over here." Colette has been waiting there for ten minutes already, but she's not complaining. She has a nice park bench all to herself and a phone to keep her amused. Annoyingly pouty selfies have been taken. One of them was pretty decent actually, and might even end up online once she can settle on the right filter.

    Later. Colette puts her phone away when she sees the worse-for-wear redhead approaching, and gives him a wave. She's dressed too smartly for the park - an ankle-length black dress, leather jacket worn over it, expensive-looking ankle boots of the type that probably should never be worn to parks. "Sit down. Tell me. I want to know he's not dead before you go hunting dogs."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Colette, I said the park, not the symphony," he smirks. He's wearing a ragged pair of jeans and an old T-shirt that sports a band that went out of fashion at least three years ago. Terry's casual is taken to the level of pure art- his outfit looks just old enough to be comfortable, but not too old to be falling apart just yet. He sits down.

"So... I volunteered to help Gar come up with some content for his social media. So we were at Queensland beach, got him into a wetsuit and he went into the water to do a PA on ocean conservation. Turned into a dolphin for part of it... and then out of nowhere this gigantic monster turtle came out and tried to take a bite out of him!"

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "You summoned Gamera," Colette comments, one eyebrow raised archly. "That's the right one, isn't it? Or is it Mothr... no, that's the giant moth. Obviously." She laughs a little and shakes her head. "And he's staying with you? So nothing too fatal. He's been to hospital, right? Tell me you took him to hospital first. Otherwise I may have to strangle you."

    Colette pinches the bridge of her nose, holds it there a moment and then and leans back. She sits with a noteable slouch that would be about as symphony-appropriate as Terry's clothes. "You were planning to get him to cover you on the stakeouts, right? And that's now a no-go. So you're go to go on your own again and get yourself shot a few more times. Tell me about the stakeouts. Who are you after?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Oh yeah... well. First we got to my apartment to clean the wound and see how bad it was. Because if it was, you know... but we saw there was just too big of a gash, I cleaned the wound and applied pressure and gauze and took him to the hospital. I know how to do that stuff." Why, exactly, he doesn't specify.

"So he's staying at my place now, because he needs to stay off that leg, and there's nobody there, really. I couldn't just let him be there by himself."

That is entirely the motivation. Completely. "... who I'm after? That's... kind of personal," he answers evasively, rubbing his neck.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "Personal, huh?"Colette gives a wry smile. "So you're not actually even after a story. You've got some personal vendetta against some hardened criminals and you're going to get your revenge on them by taking their photos, is that the idea? Great. How many stakeouts have you done in your life? By which I mean excluding the ones where people caught you."

    Colette comes out of the slouch to lean forwards, elbows on knees, head canted sideways to look at Terry - which is somehow even worse. "He's in kind of a mess isn't he? Garfield I mean. I didn't realize... I should have done more digging than a two minute Google before... that. My bad. I didn't think about how young he is. Younger than me. He's been through some shit."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"I am trying to find my father."

Terry lets the statement just... lay there. Not exactly the multicolored spy-level revenge-fest, that one. But the topic of Gar brings him out again, "The Doomsday event did a number on him." That sounds like an understatement, because it did something for the entire nation. The entire world. But - "I've been thinking about it. Losing his parents, having his guardian trying to bump him off. And then seeing a team-mate killed."

He turns to look at her, "Colette, he was fifteen when that happened." There's an emotional undertone to his voice.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "Don't rub it in Terry, I know when I've fucked up." She says it very evenly, no sheepish dodging of the facts. Colette apparently has no fear of honesty, at least. "It's hard for me to... step back, sometimes. When I'm in that mood. Look at the smaller pictures when I'm looking at the bigger ones at the same time. I'm trying to work on that. I was serious about helping him though. You know, getting the tower fixed up or whatever. But I guess there's a different type of help he needs first, and that's probably on you, red. "

    Colette lets that sit there for a few moments in silence before she returns to stories disappointingly lacking in revenge-fests. "I tried to find my parents once. I'm adopted. Had a... thing about it for a while. When I was eight, nine. My parents... I mean my adoptive parents... were not encouraging. I went through all kinds of things in my head, wondering why they would discourage me. Maybe they thought I'd love them less, or want to go back to my birth parents, maybe my birth parents were like evil or something. Turns out, no records. I was left on a hospital step. They thought knowing that would give me worse issues than having no idea why I had no idea who my birth parents were. Made me think how hard it must have been for them to figure out what to say. I mean they couldn't not tell me, because they were worried that would hurt me, but if they told me too much, that would also hurt me. Funny thing is, in the end that made me realize how much they cared for me, which kind of made the issue moot."

    Colette looks up a the hotdog stand. "Which... is nothing to do with your situation and I'm not entirely sure where that's coming from, me telling you that. I guess it's me saying... I know we don't know each other well and you maybe don't want to talk about this stuff, and that's cool. But if you do... that's also cool. How do you take your dog?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"With all the fixins," Terry says, smirking a little, and then looks at Colette. He seems to weigh something for a second, and then says "This is just betwen you and me, okay? And April. When I tell her."

He stands up, gesturing for her to accompany him to the dogs.

"The reason I'm looking for my father is... he vanished. Before I was born. I never really knew about him, mom wouldn't speak. And... I guess I never really felt it was that important until... things started changing. Recently. I've found some stuff that's been going on that might make better sense if I find him. But I've got a very cold trail."

He gets to the hot dog vendor, and waits for Colette to order before he gets his wallet out. "Last time it was yoru treat. My turn."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette's not insisting. On the one hand she figures a junior reporter's salary is probably a serious struggle. On the other, who wants to feel like they're mooching all the time? Not anyone Colette wants to know, anway. "Plenty of mustard, no ketchup. As many fried onions as you can stack on there. Thanks."

    "So, you're following a trail that goes dead at some nasty part of town and because you don't have any other avenue to try, you're hanging out there hoping to spot something. Shit. I can see why you think it's worth risking getting shot for. Damn. "

    Colette takes her dog back to the bench, sitting down carefully with it to avoid spilling mustard on her dress. A bit of mud on the boots is one thing, but mustard is not a fun stain. When Terry returns with his own, she tilts her head towards him. "Two ideas. You're going to hate at least one of them. First idea, the sensible one but almost certainly unacceptable. I have contacts. Gimme the deets. If there's anything to find out, it'll be found out for you. Second, if you /have/ to do this yourself, bring me along. Garfield's wounded and you need someone to watch your back."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry orders his dog and joins Colette in the delectation. They have good dogs here. "I'll give you the deets, as you say... but I don't know what you can pull up. So far, I've found a name, and I've also determined it was most likely an alias. So all I have is a picture of him with a man, dating from before I was born. And the man? Nico Sabatini, rumor has it he's behind the recent influx of gangs in the Suicide slums in Metropolis. All allegations, of course. Spent some time in Europe, apparently, but what brought him back here, and why he is allegedly bankrolling petty gangs that are building up from low-grade drug deals to more serious stuff? I've no clue. I was hoping to try and get some info. I figure... if I can get to the man who apparently knew my father... in one way or another..."

He shrugs. "At this point, I am afraid that my father may not be a terribly nice man, and may ot be totally inclined to help me."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette sits there staring at her half-eaten dog. "Check me here. You're out on the streets watching the petty street gangs in the hope that gives you some kind of lead to they guy rumors say is bankrolling them, who's name you already know? Because this guy who's name you already know might know where your father is. Does that sound right?"

    She turns her gaze from hotdog to redhead. "Just... explain to me why you don't just go call on the guy, tell him you're looking for father and you have this photo of the two of them together, ask him if there's anything he can tell you? I mean if you're not actually poking in his business, the worst he's likely to do is lie to you, right? Someone bankrolling street gangs isn't going to draw attention to themselves for no good reason. And best case, he'll give you the info you're after."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry gives Colette a slow look. "... because he's bankrolling gangs and screwing people over with it, Colette." He says it, as if it were something that should be obvious to her. "Do you think I'm just going to ignore that? Cops don't go to Suicide Slum most of the time. There's nobody seemingly gathering evidence, and that's suspicious. For all we know, this guy could be responsible for my father's disappearance- and I'm going to walk in with a how ya do? I'm not sure about that."

He smiles and takes a bite out of his dog, and then frowns, going a little quiet.

"You said I could help Gar..."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "So you were planning to gather evidence, bust the guy's operation to the cops, get him jailed, then go visit him in jail and ask him if he knows what happened to your father? I'm suggesting you have that the wrong way around, Terry. Approach him before he's suspicious, ask him about your father. Maybe he tells you. Maybe he waits until you've gone, and makes a phone call, in which case you pick it up, and the number he's calling, via a fake cell tower in a van parked outside. Google IMSI catcher if you want to know how to do that. That gives you your lead, if there is one. /Then/ you bust his op, without endangering yourself with he additional stress and nerves that come from this being personal."

    Colette finishes up her dog and licks her fingers. "That seems pretty straightforward, Scoops. " She sits back comfortably in the bench, fetches a small bottle of hand cleanser from her jacket pocket and gives her hands a wipe, before offering the bottle to Terry.

    "Seems to me you're already helping him," Colette says. "I mean he's staying with you right? Probably needs that for more than just the physical help right now. I get the impression his star isn't exactly in the ascendent right now. Mister popular probably really needs a good friend."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry smirks, "Right, and what do you think Lois and Gar will say if I just waltz into this guy's base..." he chuckles, and then shakes his head.

The readhead leans back and frowns.

"It's... complicated. Gar needs a friend... but..." He pauses, and then rubs his forehead. "I don't know. There's stuff... maybe I'm not the best person to be that friend because..." he trails off.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    "If you waltz into his secret underground lair, rope-swing over the shark tank , straighten your bow tie and demand to know about your father?" Colette leans back and laughs. "Scoops, he may be a crook, but he's probably also got a house, a wife, and two point six children. Treat this like you don't know he's a crook, and what are the chances that he'll want to clue you in to that for no reason? Even crooks want to have a normal life, red. He'll either say 'Sorry kid, haven't seen him for fifteen years, no clue.' Or he'll say 'Sure, here's his number,' or he'll lie to you and ring the guy up within sixty seconds of you leaving, which you'll pick up on the spy gear."

    Colette smiles faintly to herself. "Lois will tell you that you may yet have what it takes to be a proper reporter, and Garfield will freak out for five minutes, realize in the end you actually took the safe route, and sulk with you for at least four hours because he won't want to admit he's actually secretly impressed. Does that answer your second point, or am I being too subtle?"

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry frowns and takes another large bite of his hot dog. Once that has been properly consumed, he says "Garfield Logan is as straight as a goddamned arrow. He dated..." he snaps his fingers, "That girl with the lips who was in that movie." So specific, Terry. "What if he finds out? What if I slip up. What if he realizes? He'll freak out and push me away, and lock himself up in his tower of trauma and so much for that."

He deflates a little. "He's not dumb. Just easily distracted. But..."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
Colette is silent for a good while. Possibly because she's trying hard not to dissolve into cackles. She screws up her discarded hotdog wrapper, and tosses it at a trashcan. She makes a fist as it rolls along the inner rim, then throws both hands up when it bounces out again. "So close!" she exclaims. She hops to her feet to fetch it and bin it properly, heels clicking a little on the aggregate of the park pathway, and returns to the bench.

    "So you noticed with your straight guy friends how the last thing they'd ever do is admit they would worry about a friend? At least until they really know them. Even then, there's got to be that whole... " cue rather silly exaggerated deep voice: " 'Hey Bro, I got your back, whatever, let's talk about something else now' thing." Colette asks. "'Cos that would make them look sooo gay."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
Terry looks at Colette with a strange expression on his face. It is hard to read for a few seconds, until finally a dominant emotion comes to take over his face- utter, total and complete puzzlement. Brow slightly furrowed, eyes a tad wide, mouth open just a tad, he takes a few seconds to form an apt reply, something that is eloquent enough to answer Colette's point. And then he speaks.

"What? No. What? I don't know anyone who talks like that!"

What Colette might not know is that all of Terry's friends are, actually women. She has just referred to his straight guy friends like she might speak about the Chupacabras: He knows that some people claim they exist, but he has personally never met one.

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    Colette throws her hands in the air. "I give up! I thought you were one of the smart ones. I had high hopes for you, Terry! I really did." She gets up, and walks away.

    Three steps. Then she turns, comes back and sits down again. She turns to Terry, giving him a serious expression, then punches him.

    On the arm.

    Not the injured one, and not hard. Enough to hurt slightly, though.

    "You're going to be the death of me, I swear," Colette grumbles. "Right. Remember when I teased the pair of you about marriage counselling? And you both said 'We're not married' in exactly the same tone of voice, at exactly the same time like a fucking Greek Chorus in a state of deep denial? What next, you want me to get this Nico Scopalomine guy delivered to you in a crate for questioning? 'Cos Daddy's company went straight when the big bucks rolled in during the Metropolis construction boom after the Second World War, but I'm pretty sure Great Uncle Petey still runs the Irish Mafia or something, so I probably could arrange that too."

Terry O'Neil has posed:
"Ow!" Terry rubs his arms, looking at Colette. For a few seconds, he appears to be genuinely at a loss for what to say.

It is remarkable, what the mind will believe, and what it will not. Even as the points are placed before him, Terry tells himself there are other, more rational explanations than Gar Logan suddenly not being the skirt-chaser he has been in the public eye for... years.

Trauma. Abandonment. Wouldn't someone be more intense about their worry over someoneif they had experienced inordinate amounts of loss in the past? That made sense. A sort of propensity to be open with people you might not see again.

He keeps this theory from Colette, though, mostly because he doesn't want her to hit him in the /other/ arm. And, it is getting late.

"You've given me a lot to think of. Tell you what," he says, making a mad swerve to the other topic,  lest Colette findother more colorful ways of illustrating her theory that Gar and Terry were really the couple from the Birdcage, "I'll send you the picture and the info tomorrow. But we'll do this on my terms. If this guy is dirty, I want him to go down. But there's nothing wrong with gathering intel so that the trap's ready to spring when it's needed."

He hastily gets up, brushing stray crumbs away from his shirt, "I've got to go, though. I've got work in the morning. And I'm sure miss Lane is going to ask me about what I was doing at the beach with a giant mutant turtle."

Colette O'Connail has posed:
    There is a little corner of Colette's mind, one she would not readily admit to, that has a solution to all this. Find this Nico Sabatini. Blast his skull to a pulp with dark energy. Kill everyone standing near him. Kill everyone standing near /them/. Hang their bodies up by their feet so the blood drains out into a great crimson pool, and... wait, stop. Going too far there, little dark corner. I'm sure you meant to say kill the guilty ones, in a clean and humane fashion. I mean we aren't going to exactly going to agree on that, but at least it's understandable. Enough with the blood draining stuff please.

    Okay, so there's this little dark corner of Colette's mind that thinks that maybe she should go and wipe out this evil gang of drug pushers or whatever it was that Terry said they were up to. That would keep him safe and allow him to focus his attention on important stuff right?

    There is a more dominant part of Colette's mind that says that he's got to do this himself, that this kind of self-discovery is important. Oh well.

    "Sure Scoops, your way. One condition." Colette raises a finger in admonishment. "No more stakeouts without backup. That's my final offer." She lowers her finger and gives him a nod. "Seeya later, Red. Oh, and suggestion for you. Ask Garfield about the girl with the lips, and see if he gets boastful or evasive."