9189/That's not how it's done!

That's not how it's done!
Date of Scene:	20 December 2021
Location:	SoHo
Synopsis:	Irritation and annoyances all around!
Cast of Characters:	Monet St. Croix, Felicity Smoak

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Monet St. Croix has posed:
It's a quiet day in SoHo. Monet St. Croix is walking, one arm over in a sling and with a hand in front of her holding a smartphone. She's just casually walking along, watching her phone which is playing an ongoing match as part of the tiered World Chess Championships. She's listening to the analysis in French, following along the two men hunched over a board as analytics would play on in rapidfire discussion.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
SoHo at holiday time! Hanukkah is over and done with, though the blue and silver lights do linger here and there as if not really wanting to disappear into obscurity, losing to the reds and greens, the silvers and golds of Christmas. It loses out already to that 'other holiday' in terms of carols. Who sings about dreidels when Bing Crosby is crooning about a White Christmas?

Still, doesn't really matter to Felicity. She's gotten her 'haul' from the holiday, and now she's shopping for that elusive gift; that one //perfect// item that will round out the pile of presents for friends.

It's cold. Bone-chillingly so. Temperatures are dipping, though thankfully the snow has held off for the time being. So, the blond is wrapped in a long, fur-hooded parka, a scarf wrapped about her neck within the plump coat, and a pair of heeled boots seen from the bottom. Hands are pushed inside the pockets, only to be let out on occasion to push up her cold glasses. Her steps are far from deliberate; she's a tourist, shopping, and slowly she walks past windows dressed for the season. Clothes. Chatchkes. Tech-- oooh, and Felicity goes from a slow to a stop, her attention focussing on a screen within a store's window. Brows crease, and her mouth opens just a little.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet is wearing a long fur coat that costs more than many people make in half a year's salary. Her arm done up in a sling underneath is still stylish. Definitely someone rich and that has no qualms on showing it off. Her smartphone over in front of her that's displaying elements of the match and the background chatter in it of 'oohing' or 'ahhing' while either of the players makes a move, and then back to the rapid evaluation.

Monet pays little attention to the holiday antics going on. She has her priorities following along a game that has long since no doubt lost it's viability in a world of supercomputers and hyper-intelligence. So when Felicity suddenly stops and looks over into a window, caught and seemingly staring at something.. Monet is a few feet away from walking into her bfeore going to a stop and narrowing her eyes.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Within the window's display, there's a scene from an obscure (for reasons!) television show streaming on a monitor. While nothing can be heard in terms of dialog, what is painfully evident is that the 'hacking sequence' that is being shown is causing the blond no little bit of annoyance bordering on irritated distress.

"Oh.. no. No, no, no.."

Felicity turns to face the window directly, a hand creeping out from it's spot of warmth to push on her glasses, and she shakes her head again, blue eyes riveted momentarily on the screen before her tones sound indignant again. "How could anyone actually believe that crap? I mean, really?"

She looks around, and there aren't many walking the street, so Monet in her finery is noted. Felicity is still on the 'outside' of money, and is living in a small, one bedroom apartment in a 'section' of Starling. Even if she does work for wealth, she's not a part of its scene...

"Do you really believe that sort of trash? I mean, seriously?" While not directly stated to Monet, the inference is there.. she's within earshot, and the indigation is real.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Whatever is playing over on the big screen has little to none of Monet's attention. Some sort of mass cultural tripe that's far beneath her. So when the smaller girl (relatively) that's a short ways away from her starts to yell over at the screen that is playing it gets her full and irritated attention.

"Excuse me? How /dare/ you call me trash." Monet is going to shut off her phone that was playing things with her arm not over in the sling, and then is going to pop it into a pocket. "I'll give you a few moments to compose an appropriate apology." Yes, it's stretching things a -little- bit to say it was in any way related to her, but the Morrocan mutant is irritated, and Felicity is giving her an opening that she can use to make herself feel better. At the expense of someone else, which she will take. Monet would take her arm up to her waist and then resist the impulse to clench her fist or to throw in a 'peasant' in hercommentary.

Felicity Smoak has posed:
"What.. what? No, not you."

Felicity is taken briefly aback before she gestures towards the screen behind plate glass. "That." The offending material is, at the moment, showing some 'op' in hacking a high security facility. "Seriously. It's all wrong. It makes the professionals look .."

There isn't even a word for it, such is the blond's huff. "I don't know why this sort of stuff bothers me, but it's not even remotely right. At least medical dramas pretend to have medical people as advisors. This garbage?"

Again, Felicity swings a hand in the cold in gesture towards the window, "If they had an advisor, they deserve to be taken out and shot."

Beat.

"Well, okay.. not shot." Felicity is backing off just a little, but not by much.

"A stern talking to. They need to be talked to about how dumb they're making it all seem."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would glance over at Felicity and maintain her eyes in a narrowed, irritated position, "Then I suggest that you take your complaints over to the creative team in charge of whatever idiotic serial that is. You'll get better results or alternatively a restraining order for harrassment. But you'll get the point across a litlte more effectively."

Since when is she in the vogue of giving useful advise? Monet intent on calming herself while still glowering.

"If you find it truly wretched then take something more proactive about it to resolve the issue, rahter than ranting about it in a public street where individuals are coming and going. Perhaps by getting in touch with the local production crew and telling them that you're the manager of passwords, and that you need them to give you their information so that you can ensure that it's accurately logged in the systems."

Felicity Smoak has posed:
Whelp.. there goes girl power.

Setting her lips in a thin line, she lifts them for a tight smile. "I think a restraining order is the perfect idea," is replied a touch loftily. (See? She can do it too!) Felicity stares at the woman for a long moment, her brows creasing as she studies her, weighs the words, and huffs in a touch of annoyance and irritation.

"I will do one better. I'll log into their computers and rewrite the scripts." There. Perfect answer as far as the hacktivist turned 'hacker vigilante' is concerned.

"Thanks for the idea."

Felicity is ready to walk on, now that a solution has been settled upon. Or actually, moreso.. ready to call for a taxi. Blue eyes behind glass frames search the road quickly for a likely looking yellow cab.

"Oh, and I hope you have the new OS for that phone. There are easy backdoors in.. though, come to think of it, the new OS is pretty basic, too. The firewall is more like a fire break in the form of a tech ditch. Not really useful."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would glance over at Felicity, then look ever so slightly amused. "Very well, thank you for the warning. And what one do you consider appropriately paranoid then for one that works in your particular department of stalking executives of vaudeville portrayals of crass media entertainment to ensure that they have realistic displays of software manipulation?"

It's not the worst hobby to have over in the world. "And while you're at it you could stand to fix numerous other things. I'm sure that you could make some money to get some -proper- attire if you were to offer such services out amongst what passes for your local community." Was she joking?

Maybe?

Felicity Smoak has posed:
"What do I consider.. what?" Felicity looks confused, and her head tilts as she tries to follow. "I'm just going to do a script rewrite is all. In and out. Assuming I have time. The only problem with that is that I won't get credit for it. But, maybe I'll show up in a news feed about some anonymous advisor or something."

Or on a police blotter.

It's a shrug that dismisses that thought, however.. and Felicity seems ready to head out until her fashion sense is insulted. She pauses in her step and turns around fully, and stares. "What? Really... what did you just say?" The geek chic hacker narrows her eyes again before she finally smiles. She usually can get even, even if she doesn't do harm. It's a matter of 'counting coup', as it were. Usually enough just to touch the 'victim'.

"At least my clothes aren't made by kids in a sweat shop somewhere in rural India. Do some research."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would just smile. Ever, ever so lightly sinisterly as she would face off with Felicity, "Have you ever done research that doesn't involve sitting fifteen centimeters away from a computer screen looking at wikipedia? I know that having to come to original conclusions can be difficult, particularly when effort is involved."

Sneer and arrogance on full force as she's going to rest her hand at her side. "And why limit yourself to a script rewrite for such a simple thing that is a trivial innacuracy when you could use it for something that would actually matter beyond your personal sense of injustice at factual latitudes?"

Felicity Smoak has posed:
"My friends at MIT //made// wikipedia," comes as a rejoinder. "And being an" 'end user' just makes you a loser. Know how to use information and technology, and nothing can stop you." Felicity has her back up, and she's angry, annoyed, and moreso irritated because she now feels like she has to leave, and she'd be leaving empty handed!

Just that one more present for Thea. (What does one get a girl who has everything, including that silver spoon with which she was born?

"India.. little girls put that Michael Kors together for you. Don't even get me started on the Prada that I'm sure you have."

Felicity doesn't have a grand exit planned. She's never that lucky, really. The taxi that she'd hoped she could flag down drives past, leaving the out-of-towner out of luck and needing to wave another.

Second time's the charm, however.. and in opening the door, that cloud of 'new car smell in a bottle' oozes out and settles in a foot radius of the car.

Ew. Still, Felicity has to, and she moves to get in. Time to head back to Starling.. empty handed.