6952/Sorry about attacking you

Sorry about attacking you
Date of Scene:	15 July 2021
Location:	St. Nicholas Shelter and Educational Center
Synopsis:	June mistakes Hyperion and Oliver Queen for hitmen, and attacks them.
Cast of Characters:	June Connor, Hyperion, Oliver Queen

---

June Connor has posed:
    Far below the stretching penthouses and offices that scrape the New York skies, the St. Nicholas Shelter bustles with some evening activity. Families that would otherwise be homeless stay here, people who need a safe shelter. The dreary building is in need of a good powerwashing, but that's not likely to happen anytime soon. It continues in a moderate level of peace. Or at least, it was continuing in such a method, until the steel door swings open.

    "Fuckin' Eddie!" a girl with fire-engine red hair and a series of piercings actually screams as she's ejected from the building. A man comes out behind her, one of the local supervisors that help run the establishment. "What ever happened to 'Come see me if you ever need help?'"

    "Need help, as in getting an honest job, June. Help as in a place to sleep, June. Not with that. And I'm not going to bring your troubles on everyone in this place."

    The young woman certainly looks like the kind of girl your mom warned you about. A black tank top hangs from her, cut low in the arms so that it reveals her undergarments, not to mention countless tattoos. One more notable one is a red handprint on her left shoulder.

    "It's just like, five hundred bucks, okay?" she says, "I'll pay you back by next Thursday, I swear. Or at least let me stay one night. Just one."

    "June, I said no," the man says. "I'm sorry, I really am, but I'm not putting everyone here at risk because of your bad decisions." The door is shut, and June kicks it. She punches it, which probably was a bad idea. No time for pain, she kicks it again, screaming obscenities at it as if they were a method of breaking it from the hinges.

Hyperion has posed:
    It's New York. The city which is a microcosm of the entire world. Different boroughs represent different areas of all the world. So it is that Mark Milton finds himself sitting on a bench across the street from the confrontation.

    Why is he sitting there in particular? Well I am happy that you asked. It is very simple....

    The bagel shop on the corner has his favorite sweet cream cheese spread that he puts on their cinnamon bagels. So he sits with sketch pad on his lap while he chews slowly. A cup of hot coffee sits beside him where he is basically just taking a break to get an afternoon snack.

    The commotion makes him lift his head, his right hand working seemingly of its own accord to make a pencil skim over the page on his pad. What? He sketches without thinking most times, a picture of June forming. Not a normal picture. But... he generally tends to do caricature style artwork. So it's exaggerated and just a little silly. I mean sure.. he -can- hear every word said over there, but is good at pretending he can't hear whispers half a mile off.

Oliver Queen has posed:
It's a story that is sung over and over in the state, in the tri-state area, in the country, and really, in the world. Those that are down and out are looking and working by almost any means necessary to cover wants, needs, and of course, to get that all important roof over one's head.

The only really saving grace with that last one is that it's summer and the weather forcast, while not totally clear, doesn't hold rain, even if the humidity is up just a little.

Oliver Queen, while out of his town, isn't out of his element. Dressed in a casual business suit, he's accompanied by a woman also dressed in a business skirt suit, a lanyard with 'New York City HUD' emblazoned across it, complete with ID badge. Oliver is walking slowly, blue eyes keen on the area, looking things over, and they alight upon the young woman, and her troubles. Not to interfere yet, no, but the businessman does take in the exchange, filing it away for the time being.

"So, percentages. What're we looking at?" Oliver is still talking with the HUD rep, even while keeping an eye on the goings on. "Ten percent? Fifteen? What's keeping it from progressing?"

The woman with whom he's talking smiles tightly and a touch sadly, "We're not getting the outreach numbers, Mr Queen. That's what we're hoping to do. I know that answer doesn't help you for Starling, but perhaps there's a chance that we both could work out something that'll work..."

June Connor has posed:
    June looks at her hand, yeah, punching a steel door was a really bad call. Her knuckles are swelling, and she shakes it in annoyance. She lets out another scream of indistinction, and starts to storm away from the building, coming to the sidewalk. She glances one way down the street, and then the other.

    It's clear that for all her bravado and noise, she's actually quite small. Skinny and underdeveloped, she's clearly young, though she wears that chip on her shoulder as if she were ten feet tall and double her age. She takes a breath, as if collecting her thoughts, and then...gets that sense that someone is watching her. Her eyes narrow, tracking across...they snap back, spotting Mark and his sketch pad and pencil. She gives him a suspicious glare, and challengingly starts to cross the street. She manages to get three cars to honk at her as she disregards traffic signals, but manages to get to the other side in one piece. She frowns at Mark, stopping directly in the path of the billionaire Queen. "What are you doing?" she asks, as if sure that he's got some thing that he's doing with her mal-intent in mind. Her voice isn't screaming, now, though, reduced to a far more casual level.

Hyperion has posed:
    Swallowing his latest bite of bagel, Mark lifts auburn brows, "Eating?" he asks as he stops his pencil moving over the page. But then he glances down at the sketch and grimaces. "Oh shit. Sorry. Here, why don't you take this." he says as he tears the page out of his sketch book.

    "I tend to do this. I draw without even realizing I -am- drawing. It's some sort of self-therapy. I just draw absently. This time it looks like I drew you. My apologies."

    Sure, he is being all polite and such. And as he holds the sheet he tore out of his book up, his other hand reaches for the cup of coffee which is lifted to take a sip.

    "By the way, I love your ink." he adds as a lame way to try to make this seem less creepy, and of course he fails at that.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver is a touch distracted in his conversation with the other business-type, and as June begins to cross the street, he's digging into a pocket to bring out a white handkerchief. He palms it, keeping it in hand until such time that-

The cars' horns that blare out in indignation and irritation at the presence of the young woman rise in the air, causing Oliver to wince slightly in sympathy (not to mention the fact that the girl may have a few broken bones in there!). Nothing like bringing attention on oneself, however.

As June stalks across the street, stopping virtually in front of him, Oliver puts his empty hand out to the HUD worker, murmuring, "I'll get back to you," before offering up to the self-injured girl, "Hey.. c'mere for a second." He holds up the handkerchief in gesture, "White flag. Let me take a look at that."

The young man thus also addressed gains a glance, the conversation now going on between the younger pair. He's more than happy to not get too involved there- he's just offering to bandage a hand and be on his way.

That's the intent, anyway...

June Connor has posed:
    June examines the picture, taking it in one hand. She smirks at the goofy exaggerations. "Shit, that's not bad," she laughs, probably not an activity that would be bad for her. Apparently she's not too worried about whether it magnifies any less desirable features. "Okay, okay." She takes in another calming breath, and arches one brow when he adds the comment about her tattoos. "Not the worst pick up line, ever," she comments.

    Then comes Oliver's statement, and she pivots, eyes giving a once over of the suit, and then to the hankerchief. Suddenly she looks a little more cautious, not just about Oliver, but eyes shift back to Mark as well as Oliver also gave a glance that way. "So...it's raining men, it looks like." She holds up her bruised hand, in compliance, but seems to have a rather suspect theory about both speaking to her at once.

Hyperion has posed:
    "Halleluiah?" Mark asks in a small voice, but with a chuckle behind the word. But he shakes his head, "Totally not a pick up line. Just... I'm an artist. I like art. Sue me." he offers before his eyes turn towards Oliver.

    "Looks like you've got better men than me comin' out of the woodwork ma'am." he says towards June.

    And then, he gulps down the rest of his coffee before he shrugs. "Don't mind me really though. I'm just a silly cartoonist. It's what I do."

Oliver Queen has posed:
Well, June did stop near him, and that hand looks painful. But, Oliver isn't going to linger; after all, he's a touch bit older than the two, and anything more might look creepy and suspect.

He holds up the handkerchief, offers a quick self-effacing smile and continues, "Looks painful is all. Let me wrap it up and I'll go. Promise."

As she holds it up, the blond really is an expert at the fabric splint. Just enough pressure to keep it supported, and the bleeding (if any) to abate soon enough. "You should have that looked at." He knows she probably won't.

Once he's done, Oliver takes a step back and reaches for an inside pocket of his suit. A card is extracted, his name emblazoned across the top, 'Oliver Queen' with 'Queen Consolidated' contact information at the bottom. He pens a quick number on the back before handing it over. "If you need a place to stay, or at least a roof over your head, call. I'll get you there." There are a number of shelters that he deals with, that he helps underwrite in the attempt to make Starling a better place.

To clean up his city, and not fail it.

"Okay?"

Oliver looks to the picture in hand, then to the as of yet unnamed Mark, a quick flash of a smile thrown his way. "I'm heading back into the woodwork. It's fine.. and it looks good. Keep going with that."

June Connor has posed:
    The hand is mostly bruisde, though a little blood is on the knuckles, not uncommon from hitting something hard with a fist, and she stays still while it's wrapped June gives a glance between the two, and suddenly laughs, "Okay, okay, lemme get this straight," she says, stepping back so that she forms a triangle, rather than standing between the two. "You start sketching me, just because you're an artist," her left hand, the bandaged one, points at Mark.

    Her right hand points to Oliver. "And you, in your rich man suit-damn good bandage by the way, very curious why you know how to do that-you pull out a card and give me your number because I 'need a place to stay'," she gives air quotes and a knowing wink to Oliver. "I know I ain't that level of sexy," she says. "Come on, let's be real, what's this about?" She glances between them, as if expecting them to jointly come clean about something.

Hyperion has posed:
    Looking monumentally confused now, Mark lifts both brows, "What is -what- about?" he asks. And his head turns, eyes meeting Oliver's as he silently asks... /you know anything about whatever she's talking about?/ in that guy-code which boils down to a shrug and the lift of one corner of his lips in a half-smirk.

    But then he looks back to June and gives a similar shrug. This one intended to convey... /No idea what you are talking about/... though trying to transmit guy code to women is one of the classic blunders of history. Right up there with getting into a land war in Asia. "Sorry. I mean... I can show you some other sketches if you wanted. Might distract you from the sore hand... and.."

    His eyes flicker back to Oliver, "She's right. That is a first rate cloth-splint. Veteran?" he asks.

Oliver Queen has posed:
"It's the number for a shelter in Starling," Oliver says plainly, evenly. "The number is a friend of mine that operates it. He doesn't run it 7a to 9p, but it's all hours." One of the problems with shelters is that they DO close their doors, and anyone who arrives later, well, they're out of luck. "One that's safe."

Though he's certainly not addressing the need for $500 cash.

Mark's look is caught, and there's that brief frowned message back, complete with a half-rise of shoulders. //No clue.//

Still, Oliver offers up a quick self-conscious smile, "Used to fight." A rich playboy? Fight? What? "And, didn't always hang out with a good group." Always a good cover, right?

"But.. seriously.. consider it."

Oliver takes a step back, and towards the woman waiting for him with the HUD lanyard.

June Connor has posed:
    "Yeah, Right." June glances between Oliver and Mark. She could have read the card that she was handed by Oliver. She tucks it in her back pocket instead. Had she read it, it would have saved her from the most embarrassing thing that she does next.

    She attacks. Without warning, her right hand snaps outward, a finger jab toward a pressure point on Oliver's ribs, and if possible, use the momentary confusion to attempt to throw him at the sitting form of Mark. "Fuckers'll never take me down, I didn't start it and I'm not goin' down for your bullshit political squabbles!"

Hyperion has posed:
    Well, a funny thing happens when you are trying to not draw attention to yourself. You see things happening. You know that you could intervene. And then you make the conscious choice to let them happen.

    Mark doesn't move. He behaves as if the whole thing caught him so off guard that he is just a deer in the headlights. Good thing he finished his coffee. So it won't spill on his lap. But any impacts will cause his sketch book to end up out in traffic. And he'll end up as the victim and speed bump here.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver should know by now, he really should. Anything that could happen usually will. Unfortunately, he still believes in the innate goodness of people.

Silly him.

The jab to a pressure point in his chest gains the desired effect, and Oliver doubles up. He's got a protective streak in him, however, particularly for his own well being. That said, he's not in leathers. He's in his suit, and in this garb, he's (to steal a phrase) the mild mannered Oliver Queen, playboy millionaire.

It is to his credit, however, that he doesn't land //too// hard as he slams into poor Hype-- Mark. At least he knows how to fall, and to, well, try and mitigate any collateral damage.

While he's flying, however, he's got a look of brief confusion, coupled with a 'Hey--' before he hits, rolls, and sits where he lands.

Oliver looks properly annoyed, not acting there, and starts to get up, "What's the id-"

June Connor has posed:
    A kunai is produced. June's face is fierce, as if she was a lion ready to tear them both apart. There's fear behind it, though. She's very frightened as only someone who has faced their own impending death can relate to.

    There's hesitation as Oliver does not immediately get up. Hitmen wouldn't stay down for that long. She freezes mid strike, ready to follow up the distraction with a kill move from the pointed metal. She glances at Mark, who also doesn't seem to react. Now she's extra confused. Of course, some of the other bystanders see the knife, and start scattering. She glances around. "Shit. I just...fucked up, didn't I?" She holds the threatening pose a moment longer, then awkwardly lowers the kunai.

Hyperion has posed:
    Cradling his left arm just a bit, as if it had been hurt in the tumble, Mark looks up with his eyes blinking.

    He turns his attention to Oliver and asks, "Hey. Are you okay? I didn't stab you with my pencil, did I?" he asks as he releases his arm and reaches out to pick up his pencil, which.. breaks clean in half, "Damn." he mutters, "My lucky pencil."

    And then, at last, he looks up towards June.. his eyes registering the blade, "Whoa there. Nobody wants to hurt you ma'am." he says as he lifts his left hand, grimaces and lowers it again.

Oliver Queen has posed:
And out comes..

Great. A weapon.

Ollie grunts as he puts a hand to the spot on his ribs from the initial attack; it's going to bruise later, he knows it. Not acting there! But, he does start to gain his feet, his head shaking at the question regarding being stabbed with the pencil. "No," he follows up, "I don't think-" so. Aww.. lucky pencil.

Once he gets to his feet, his hands are out in an attempt to calm, palms down and in front of him, "Put it away.." is said in pretty much tandem with her lowering the weapon.

Glancing behind him at the city employee, it's his turn to try and convince her that this isn't something she needs to call the police for. He puts a single hand up in a 'hold on' motion, and moves towards her, "Don't worry.. seriously."

A glance is given back towards June, and he nods in the direction where he'd seen that she'd put the card. "Read it. A spot is still open." Just in case she thinks all that just ruined any chance.

June Connor has posed:
    June retracts the blade, wincing at the city employee and offering a weak finger wave. "Yeah, just a misunderstanding," she says, how weak a thing is that. She pockets the kunai, the small sheath hidden in her cut off shorts now a little more easily noticed as she slides it back in, and down out of sight in the pocket. She reaches back to her back pocket, and pulls out the card. Her face goes white. "Fuck me. You're Oliver Queen? Like...the real one?" she asks. "June you're such a dumbass," she criticizes herself. She glances over to Mark. "Sorry about your pencil. I-Dammit I'm sorry. Just some crazy stuff's been goin' on. Thought you were...someone else," she says. "That...made no sense I'm sure. I think I'm gonna just go crawl under a rock and wait til I starve to death now."

Hyperion has posed:
    "Look. I couldn't help but notice you're having a rough day. Maybe you might allow me to buy you a bagel or something?" asks Mark as he gets up and rolls his left shoulder experimentally. "And... a pencil is just a pencil, lucky or not. I can get a new one. I wasn't trying to guilt trip you or whatnot."

    A pause, and he turns to regard Oliver, "Oliver Queen?" he asks. I mean come on. He may draw cartoons, but he works for news media. "Don't suppose you'd let me use you as inspiration for a sketch I can use in the Bugle, eh?" he asks the man.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver puts a hand back on his ribs for a moment, rubbing the spot unconsciously before he twists back around at the question. He nods slowly, his tone a touch on the pained-rueful side, "Yeah, that's me." In the flesh. "The real one.. ow. How're you so fast?" Though, she did catch him unawares too.

Shaking his head, he exhales in an audible breath. "No, actually that makes sense, but really.. are you okay?" This doesn't seem like some hardened.. person. Just a scared young woman.

Mark's question to him, then, is met with a hint of that pained smile. "Sure? Just don't have me doing something too dumb, okay?"

June Connor has posed:
    June pinches the bridge of her nose. "Bad day, week, life, whatever," she comments dryly. "I got trained in self defense," she defends her speed. Which...is true, only it was as a Hand ninja. She gathers her thoughts for a moment, and glances at the two. Her demeanor changes. "Yeah, yeah that'd be nice," she admits. "Get a bagel, do some sketches, and see what happens next." Contrary to the recentlook that she might just run away in shame, she seems to have changed flavors again at a rather rapid pace. "I haven't had a bagel in like three years."

Hyperion has posed:
    Nodding, Mark smiles. "Bagel it is. Coffee too? Either of you? Let's just sit down, talk, and relax eh?" he asks, trying to play peacemaker.

    He brushes off his backside, picks up his sketchbook and sets it on the bench. The intent? To let folks glance through it if they want.

    That said, he gestures to the bagel shop and says, "Be right back." before he heads off to make the purchases. Three cinnamon bagels, with the good cream cheese... and three coffees of course.

Oliver Queen has posed:
Oliver puts his hand up at the offer of a bagel. "I really should head back," and he adds with a tight, humored smile, "but you should probably go." That 'you', of course, being June.

He looks at Mark and reaches back to take hold of his wallet. Within, it's not as packed as one might think, but it does have //somethiing// in there. Pulling out a $20, he hands it over, "For the cause. Go on, get her out of here."

To June, then, he gives a nod. He'd noticed that 'hand', but like everything else, not going to comment. Not here, not now. "Call. Seriously. Don't make me come find you."

June Connor has posed:
    June presses her tongue to the inside of her bottom lip, considering something, and then nods to Oliver. "Yes, Mr. Queen, I'll do that." She watches as he heads out. She follows fter Mark, "So, yeah, that was wild Not every day I almost kick a billionaires ass for no reason. Usually it's just regular losers like me," she says. "And I don't even know your name," she adds. "I'm June." She doesn't offer a hand to shake or anything like that, just gives her name.

Hyperion has posed:
    Laughing softly, Mark shakes his head. "Oh hey. Can you grab my sketch book? I left it back there." he states before smiling and adding, "Name's Mark. Good t'meetcha June." That said, he ducks into the shop with the $20 bill from Ollie and gets in line.

    He is patient... way to goody goody it seems. Still favoring that 'apparently' injured left arm of his though. Why? He's trying to pretend he's not invulnerable. Duh.

June Connor has posed:
    June glances back. Oh yeah, the sketchbook. "Uh, sure," she says. It's the least she can do given how much a fool of herself she just made. She walks back out, casually grabbing the book off the ground, and wanders back toward the shop. She didn't ask permission, but that doesn't stop her from flipping through the sketches rather unashamedly, looking to see what things he draws. People draw what they think about, she figures.

Hyperion has posed:
    This is his... mindless thought free sketch book. He has different sketchbooks for different things. The work one isn't here. It's just the therapy book he has here. Turns out he isn't a bad artist. It's not always overly silly stuff. Some of it is plain old sketches of life.

    Families in the park. Peoplewatching bystanders. Slice of life images. I mean, he's no Da Vinci, but he doesn't suck.

    Meanwhile, he gets to the front of the line and places his order. So when June reaches the shop, he turns away from the counter with a paper plate in hand, two bagels upon it, and a drink carrier with two cups of coffee in it. "Let's find a table, huh?" he asks as he gestures with his chin to the seating area.

June Connor has posed:
    June arches her pierced brow. She anticipated...something less clean. "You, got good skills," she comments. "You do this for a living?" she asks, still looking at the pictures as "You said somethin' to Queen about the Bugle." She walks over to one of the tables, more available since it's not the earlier hours of the day. She plops unceremoniously into the small chair, not looking up from the sketch pad.

Hyperion has posed:
    "Yep. I am the newest cartoonist to work for the Daily Bugle. It's a paycheck and pays my rent. It's.. not what I dreamed about doing as a kid, but.." Mark shrugs as he lays out the bagels, cream cheese, and coffee. "But it's something I enjoy doing, do well, and can earn a living at so... there are worse fates, right?"

    That said, he sits down and adjusts himself until he is comfortable before speaking, "Maybe now you can tell me a little about what made you think we were here to harm you?"

June Connor has posed:
    "Yeah, far worse things than doin' what you love," June comments. She closes the sketch book, and pushes it back toward Mark. She grabs one of the packages of cream cheese, and grips the tab with her teeth and pulls on it to open it before picking up the plastic knife and scooping some of the contents out.
    "Oh, why I acted like I was batshit crazy?" she asks, calling it what it was. "Oh, no reason much, just got a clan of ninjas pissed off at me and they are probably gonna kill me here within the next week or so," she gives a close-lipped sardonic smile, the comment delivered so straight faced that she has to be joking, surely.

Hyperion has posed:
    And yet, to Mark's highly attuned hyper-senses... and of course, he doesn't have super senses, he has hyper senses because... Hyper is in his name. What? It's a trademark thing. Anyway, he senses that June's pulse didn't behave as if she were lying. Her pupils did not dilate. She did not give any of the indicators of falsehood that he has seen before. His bagel pauses halfway to his mouth and he just stares blankly for a long moment. "Um. To paraphrase a good movie.. do you begin all conversations this way?" he asks.

June Connor has posed:
    "Hey you asked," June says, completely unaware that her fake lie might be seen through. She puts her cheeck in the palm of her hand. "So, other than draw people you see around town, what else do you do?" she asks, with not an absence of flirtatious air about her. She's certainly a bit young for someone in his thirties, but if it bothers her, she doesn't show any signs of it.