Owner	Pose
Robbie Reyes	Canelo's is somewhat inauspiciously tucked between an adult store and a Chinese restaurant. And the restaurant may well be a front for drug trafficking in Brooklyn. In other words, it's a dodgy area. Robbie's just finishing closing up for the night. He's still in his grease-stained coveralls, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he sits in the office finishing off the day's paperwork. There's music playing from somewhere: Spanish rap, of all things. Well, *he* clearly likes it; he's head bobbing along as he scribbles.
Jonathan Sims	Jonathan Sims doesn't look like a guy who ought to be in a dodgy area. He's wearing a dark green cardigan, for one, and gold-rimmed glasses for another. Even with jeans and Converse and fading violet hair... well... the jeans are too well-kept, the Converse too clean. He's just too obviously an uptown guy--specifically a /Manhattan/ guy--slumming it in the kind of place where restaurants are maybe fronts for drug smuggling.     Despite all that, he puts off an air of the kind of guy one doesn't want to mess with. There's a single incident, halfway down the block, where a couple of guys straighten up from a door stoop and start to follow him, but he turns and glares at them so hard that they go sit back down without a word.     So it is that he gets to Canelo's without too much trouble, and steps in with a firm knock on the door. "Anyone in?" he calls in a loud voice, a rich English accent. "I'm looking for Robbie Reyes."
Robbie Reyes	Robbie doesn't get an awful lot of hoity-toits around here. But that voice sounds familiar. He pauses his scribbling, frowning slightly. Then eases to his feet and makes his way out of the office at a slow, easy prowl. "That'd be me." The young mechanic wipes some grease off his nose with his knuckles, and keeps his steady gaze leveled on the man behind the counter. "Jon, right? You're, uh. One of Rien's friends. Whatcha need?" If he seems suspicious, it's because he is. Guy like Jon doesn't come here looking for a new muffler.
Jonathan Sims	"You could say that." Jon glances around for a moment, eyes narrowing as he scans around for other minds. Finding the place empty, he shrugs. "Jonathan Sims, yes. The Archivist, and leader of the Justice League Dark... which is the group you've helped a couple of times, with Rien."     He tucks his hands in his pockets, regarding Robbie quietly, and curiously. "I had intended to, perhaps, extend a formal invitation to join the group. Nobody goes through what you went through with us without earning that right. But you'd have to want to, of course."
Robbie Reyes	He's quiet for a moment after that little revelation. It certainly isn't what he anticipated, going by the stitched brows and momentary confusion. Robbie starts to speak, stops. Then moseys on past the older man to go and flip the sign on the door to CLOSED. He throws the deadlock too, for good measure. "Well.." Back behind the counter, he takes a lean against it, resting his weight on his forearms. "I don't work too well with others. But if you're cool with that.." He makes a little moue with his lips. "Then sure."
Jonathan Sims	Jon doesn't move as Robbie goes to flip the sign and throw on the deadlock. Reasonable precautions; not everyone is a telepath that can sense most people walking up to them. "That would appear to be the motto of half the group," he replies drily. "I suppose it depends on what you mean by 'don't work too well with others.' Not used to it, willing to learn? I know you're a Ghost Rider, and I know they seem to have... issues with playing nicely, but that's something we've worked with before."     He raises his brows. "You got back up after absorbing the history of the universe, which was... impressive, I have to say. I've gotten that, too, and it took me a while to recover from. Between that and the business in the castle... honestly you seemed to work with us just fine. Better than Johnny at any rate." He clears his throat. "Ahh. That is. His Rider's... kind of a jerk."
Robbie Reyes	That.. actually makes Reyes smile. Just a little. "You ain't met mine, then," he replies low-voiced. He hitches his chin toward the lot out back, while keeping his eyes on Jon. Can never be too careful with those magical types, after all. "Ran into him just the other day, speakin' of which. You didn't send him here looking for me, did you?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks. "What? No. What did he do?" There's a tense tone to his voice. "I wouldn't... I came down here to talk to you myself, I wouldn't send someone else looking for you."     He glances toward the back, raising his eyebrows. "...Are you suggesting I meet yours? I'm... not saying I need to, unless you think that's important."
Robbie Reyes	"Showed up here and pulled my own schtick on me. Can you fucking believe that?" There's probably still a few scorch marks and signs of burned rubber out there, though most around here just turn a blind eye to the crazy shit. "Ain't suggesting a thing," Robbie adds with a shrug. "He's not what I'd call real friendly." Serial killers usually aren't.
Jonathan Sims	Jon has to actually... take in a deep breath. Let it out. He pulls off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fuck's sake," he breathes. He can see it, now that he looks, the remnants of whatever the two Riders got up to out there. A scuffle? A full-on battle? He can only see the traces, the lines of hell-aligned energy, the imprint on a garage door, blazing in his Sight.     "Does he just... go around nosing in on every dark thing he hears about without bothering to check in with anyone?" His voice comes out an irritated growl, and he shoves his glasses back on with just as much irritation in his movements. "There are /so/ many 'dark' practitioners about that work for and with us. Fucking arrogant--" He cuts himself off, maybe not /entirely/ willing to grouse about a member of his group in front of a prospect.     He squares his shoulders and looks to Robbie. His voice holds less of the irritation. "If there's some sort of... conflict between the two of you, maybe we can offer neutral ground for you to sort it out."
Robbie Reyes	No answer from the mechanic. No nothing, not for a little while at least. Seems he's more than comfortable with letting Jon do the talking for both of them. Eventually though, he bends his head to scratch at the bridge of his nose, and mumble like he half doesn't want to be heard, "He was just doing his job. Don't be too hard on him." Yeah, you heard it right. He just defended Johnny Blaze, the asshole Ghost Rider who tried to drag him to Hell. Also, "I can handle it on my own. Don't need your help.. but thanks." It's a clear afterthought, like he tacked it on out of guilt.
Jonathan Sims	Jon frowns at Robbie for a moment. Just for a moment, and then he nods. "Maybe so. I'm still going to see about... well. Maybe I'll just make sure he's got the current roster of our potential allies so he doesn't go after anyone without talking to us first."     He considers the young man for a little while longer. "Do you have any questions for me? You don't even know what I can do, besides talking an archangel into letting himself die." He smirks. "Or does that not matter much? I know you're close to Rien. Do you trust her?"
Robbie Reyes	"I said I'll fucking handle it," Robbie interrupts, perhaps a little more sharply than necessary. Perhaps, too, Jon's imagination that the dark of his eyes is briefly ringed in red.. then gone by the time he pushes off the counter. "Besides, the Rider doesn't give a shit about your roster." The implication being that *his* sure as hell won't, either. The youth grabs a rag so he can wipe the counter down, and go tidy up in the front of the shop while they chat. "Got some idea of what you can do. You wanna tell me more?" He looks at Jon over his shoulder at the question about Rien, and pauses what he's doing. Then resumes it in silence.
Jonathan Sims	Jon doesn't really react to the red in the eyes, beyond a single blink. "Right, then," he says, as if putting the matter aside. He moves aside so he doesn't get in the way, pulling his hands out of his pockets to fold them across his chest.     "I'm an avatar of the Egyptian goddess Ma'at. Order, Truth, Balance... Justice. She judges souls, ahh, the heart gets put on a scale and weighed against one of her feathers. The Archivist was created to... do that out in the world. Judge beings who don't die in the normal course of things. Demons, immortals... angels. That's how I got tangled up in the archangel business. I can perform magic, I heal faster than normal." He shrugs. "And I'm an agent of SHIELD, so I have the training that goes with that."     He notes that Robbie didn't answer, about Rien, but files it away quietly. Hmm.
Robbie Reyes	Robbie continues tidying up as Jon talks. Though he pauses a moment when the other man reveals a little more about himself and his motives. Then frowns slightly, looking him up and down. "So you're.. kind of like me, then," he observes. "Without the.." Demon corrupting his soul. "But maybe more like Rien. I see why you guys run together." Grabbing a broom, he starts sweeping up once everything's been tidied. "Surprised you can tolerate us. Me and Johnny, I mean."
Jonathan Sims	"Yeah, sort of. I used to channel negative energy to destroy the beings I judged unworthy. I... don't do that anymore. It's part of what we did to fix the universe. I'm not sure /what/ I do now, but..." Jon shrugs. "I'll figure it out soon enough, I'm sure."     He frowns. "It's a /little/ different. I judge immortals to protect humanity from them running roughshod. People like us, we could run the world if we wanted. I think... I think a lot of the Egyptian kings /were/ something we'd call superheroes. I'm a check on power, more than a... I don't know, someone judging sins. That's why I went after Michael--an angel was killing mortals, and I'm kind of a supernatural cop, you know?" He snorts. "Ironic, that. I'm not fond of the police, as an institution."     He eyes Robbie for a moment. "Why do you think I'd have trouble tolerating you? Territory, or... demonic?"
Robbie Reyes	The sound of the broomhead against the shop floor is an occasional soft sussuration, punctuated with some display or other being moved around so he can sweep behind it. Robbie watches the man over his shoulder for a moment, when Jon muses on what he's going to do now. Then turns away again to resume his busywork. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Makes sense. About that bag of dicks, I mean." Michael. He's talking about Michael. "Huh? Territory?" He looks confused at the suggestion, and points to himself. "Demon." Well, the Rider, technically. But one with Jon's Sight can tell how intertwined they've become.
Jonathan Sims	Jon smirks slightly. "I used balewater cursed by Lucifer himself on Michael's wing. Lost my arm over that." Funny, he looks like he's got two arms. "I don't care where your power's from... I care what you /do/ with it. The woman who killed Michael is a literal Hell Lord, though she's still mortal. Johnny helped us fight the angels--and so did an angel with free will."     He huffs out a breath. "From my point of view... demons are just /ifset/. Chaos, impurity... but Hell serves a purpose, punishing souls that need scouring before they go back into the cycle. Impurity, rot, violence... that's all part of life. Manure's a great fertilizer, and without rot we wouldn't have cheese or alcohol, and I like both."     He fixes Robbie with a rather direct look. "So as long as you're using the power of the Rider properly, as long as /it/ isn't going after innocents... it's mostly none of my damn business. Does yours work like Johnny's? It looked like it... stare at something, judge its sins."
Robbie Reyes	Robbie winces slightly when the other man mentions the cursed balewater incident. "You're lucky that's all you lost," he remarks with a smirk. "Guessing you can grow arms back, too?" As to the rest of it, "Yeah, I get you. But mine.. mine ain't like his." He lifts his eyes to Jon. "Let you meet 'im some time, maybe." And won't that be fun.
Jonathan Sims	"Oh, that's not all I lost," Jon says softly. There's a haunted look in his eyes for a moment, and he shifts his right arm. "This is a prosthetic." He shrugs. "It works well enough, for most things. Not magic, but I can summon an arm for that."     He eyes Robbie for a long moment, then nods. "Some time. But, well, you've already got a key to the Velvet Room. I'll let other people know you're joining up. We send out general texts when we need help; if you can't come don't feel bad. Not everyone does, and we don't judge. Rien was gone for months, keeping demons off our flank. Other people have personal matters, stuff like that. We're a team, and we appreciate the help, but it's not a job."
Robbie Reyes	Collecting the broom, Robbie wanders closer for a look at the arm. He even reaches out like he's going to touch it.. then seems to think better of it. Thinks better of asking, too, what else the man lost. But it's clearly on his mind as he watches him and that look on his face. Abruptly, he rolls up the sleeve of his coveralls, and turns his left hand over a couple of times so Jon can see. "Some angel took it off. Probably kept it like some fucked up trophy, all I know." There's a faint scar where the hand was severed.. and then regrew itself. "And I'll help when I can. If my brother doesn't need me."
Jonathan Sims	Jon shakes his head. "Fucking angels," he says in commisseration. Then he reaches out to show his right hand, flexes it. The thing looks... entirely normal. Then he pulls off the right sleeve of the cardigan and pulls up the sleeve of the black t-shirt underneath, showing a ring of silvery metal with strange inscriptions. "My husband gave up his second-happiest memory to get it for me from a magical market. Works and looks just like mine, but it's /hard/ to put magic through. And it doesn't get rid of the memories."     He smiles, briefly, shrugs, as he puts the caridgan back on. "I was, predictably enough, making Monty Python 'Black Knight' jokes to everyone when I got back. You know, 'it's just a flesh wound!'" He even says it in the right accent, with a smirk. "Maybe I can regrow limbs... it's possible... but the arm got removed in the Astral Plane. I died, got a new body... still just the one arm. Proper payment for sullying an archangel's wing, I suppose."     He nods, then. "Understood. Thank you, really. You've already been a great help. I'll be in touch." He turns as if preparing to leave.
Robbie Reyes	The story about the husband and the lost memory puts an odd, melancholic look on Robbie's face. But he plays his cards pretty close to his chest, and this one's no exception. After a minute, he simply nods, and goes to unlock the door for Jon. "*No hay nada que agradecerme*," he murmurs. "See you 'round."