Owner	Pose
Maria King	The trash dumpster a block over behind the Big Apple Bakery is considered prime real estate by the homeless of New Lots. The bakery always discard of some goods occasionally during the day, and usually then at night before they close down. Though they don't just throw out good food, the employees will take it home first. That usually means burnt ends of bread, pastries that are stale that only people badly off for food would eat them. There is usually a bit of competition for the bags that they through out then. As a result Maria doesn't often attempt it. Though sometimes she'll hang out in the area, hoping one of the drunks or other indigents that gets something is friendly enough with her to share. Tonight, she went for the latter, but found no one else waiting when a young man came out the back and tossed a bag into the dumpster. Maria took a quick glance around as he went back inside, then rushed over. Disappearing up to her waist over the top of the dumpster's edge, she retrieved the bag quickly. Ripping it open, she found the edible stuff in a plastic bag. Thankfully they didn't intentionally ruin it to discourage exactly what she was doing. Maria threw the rest of the trash back into the dumpster and then did her best to scurry off, looking for a place she could eat without someone else noticing and coming to take it from her. Her limp slowed her down, her knee having stiffened up from the ice skating fall. But so worth it, the skating. Her nose and cheeks are rosy with the cold that is more than her jacket and hoodie together should be dealing with. Glancing around, the discarded bakery goods clutched in the bag to her chest to help hide them, the petite teen heads into the abandoned church. Few of the homeless seem to favor it. Too superstitious or something.
Tom McCarthy	A chilly night, another walk - something had him curious about the church. Digi was always urging him into such places, perhaps to seek the redeemed or to find their enemies. Either way, it would seem Tom was all right with it. At least he had coffee. A man without fear, but certainly wise enough to know to check his corners, he steps into the church after seeing Maria limp in there. "Hello?" He called in, not shouting. "Everyone all right in here?" He asked, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. No need to ask Digi for help - he didn't want to shred his clothes for the evening. A sip from his coffee, the man not wanting to seem predatory or threatening. "Anyone here?" <<Of course there is. You saw them enter.>> 'Chill, Digi. I'm playing it cool, no need to expose what we know.' Tom thought back.
Maria King	The interior is as cold as it is outside, though maybe it doesn't feel quite as bad with the walls blocking the worst of the wind. Only the occasional draft that makes it in through the windows that broke from the heat of the flames that took this place. Over in a back corner of it, the brunette teen is seated on the floor against the wall. Her legs are bent at the knee slightly, the bag of discarded baked goods in her lap. She has in hand a bagel that was slightly overcooked to start with, but then sat around long enough to become quite hard. She rips a piece off, squeezing it hard with her fingers to soften it up a bit before finally putting it in her mouth, gnawing on it with her back teeth until it finally is soft enough to swallow. At the sound of the man's voice she tenses and goes still. In the dim light she can't make out more than a silhouette that came in through the doorway, one that turned into a shadow in the dark as it moved further in. She doesn't say anything, just stays there quietly. Though if he proceeds much further he'll spot her easily enough.
Tom McCarthy	He's familiar with the wind-breaking affect, even if it's not much warmer - it can make a huge difference. Tom doesn't step too far in, not wanting to spook anyone. "I think we met the other night, while you were ice-skating and brusing your ego." He continues, taking another sip of his coffee. "I was the guy telling you to ice your knee." A wry grin. "I saw you limp in here... thought I would check in on you." He peers about the place, just adjusting to the light and taking in the disarray. "You doing all right? Need a light?"
Maria King	Tom's words about the night before at the impromptu ice skating rink created by Father Theo seem to cause Maria to relax, the tension in her muscles draining away. He'd been nothing but helpful then, and if she had to make a snap judgment, she'd have said he seemed like a decent person. "Hi," her voice says, sounding small in the big open space of the interior of the burned out church. "Um, a light might not be good. People could come in to see what it is," she says quietly. She looks down at the bag of stale baked goods. She can easily eat all of it, though most people wouldn't think it of her. But she says to Tom, "I have some food here. It's not the best, but it's edible," she says. "If you're hungry, you can have some."
Tom McCarthy	Sharing food is huge. Especially in her position, Tom recognizes. He moves over towards the sound of her voice, smirking just a touch. "I have some coffee, if you'd like some?" He offers as trade. "Get you warm and cozy." A smile and a nod, the man finding a seat nearby. "I'll take a bite, I'm pretty full though." He's certainly had worse in SEAR training and when deployed. He's not going to be rude and deny her offer. "And fair about the light. How are you keeping warm?" He wonders, tearing a bit off of one of the rolls and chewing on it thoughtfully. "How's the knee?"
Maria King	Trading food is something the homeless girl can relate to. It is a big deal. A show of compassion. A show of trust. It's the kind of thing that can later on lead to someone sharing with you even when you don't have something to reciprocate back. She digs in the bag, finding a donut which looks in better shape than some of the other things in the bag, and passes it over to Tom. If he offers the coffee, she takes it gratefully. HOlding it with both hands, her skin a bit white from the cold, as she takes a sip and cradles that warmth before passing the cup back to him. "It's kind of grouchy. Stiffened up on me," she says, looking down at her knee and frowning a little bit. "I'm Maria," she offers quietly, looking up at the man.
Tom McCarthy	The coffee is handed over, happily. "Drink all you need." Tom comments. A grin as she cups it with both hands, knowing all too well how nice it feels on cold hands. Afghanistan in the winter was rough - he'd huddled around a cup many a times. "I'm Tom." He offers by way of introduction. A nod to her as she mentions the grumpy knee, the man taking another bite of the doughnut. "I used to be a medic, back in the Air Force." The man explains. "If you like, I can take a look. If not, I understand." A wry grin. "A lot of folks don't trust people in suits, with good reason." A sage nod. As he looks around, he wonders. "Do you crash here or do you have somewhere warmer?"
Maria King	She definitely appreciated the coffee. It gives a run for its money her appreciation of the food she didn't expect to get tonight. Which if Tom knew just how many calories the girl burns, that would mean something. She does pass it back though so he can have a sip of the warm liquid as she tears off and tenderizes another piece of the bagel, giving an idea just how rough of shape it is in. "I have somewhere else. That can I make a fire without anyone seeing," she tells him, a glance towards the windows indicating someone would notice if there was one in here, at night. "You were in the Air Force?" she asks, turning to gaze at him more closely. Eyes adjusted to the dark, she can see him better. "Yeah, not a lot of people here have suits. Except to wear on Sundays," she agrees.
Tom McCarthy	The drink is shared, passed back and forth - him sparingly sipping so she can have the lion's share. "Good good. And yeah, light would filter out of here pretty quick. Funny how easily folks can spot a flickering light from a good distance." A nod and a grin to her. "Hopefully you wouldn't catch the same trouble we did if we didn't practice keeping lights down." He doesn't ask where, he's not trying to shadow the woman. "Yeah, special forces. Pararescue. Jump out of planes, parachute in, save lives." He winks. "It was a good job, while it lasted." The man muses, chewing a bit more of the doughnut. "I got a lot of pracical experience and then got my nursing degree. Triage and all that." A tug to his coat. "The suit can be nice in keeping warm, at least. All the layers." A chuckle. "So, your knee?"