Owner	Pose
Thomas Blake	The Zoo is Closed! It is well after hours. The keepers are in their shack staying warm and paid off. In the big cat habitat there is activity. A cowled and caped figure moves among the lions, let out of the shelter. Lion and lionesses move over for a pat or a nuzzle. The man has no fear and in fact seems relaxed. On the floor, a number of black splashes. the lions as well are licking their chops and seem relaxed. Catman smiles at the pride as a chorus of purrs begins.
Patsy Walker	Author by day, Hellcat by night, and this evening, detective. One of the zoo staff has anonymously reached out to Miss Walker's small agency and requested that someone attempt to surveil who is trespassing on not only the property, but within the confines of some of the exhibits themselves. This means Patsy is in her suit, un-steathily colored as it might be, and sporting her shadow cloak against the cold, she's managed to cross onto the grounds of the zoo without tripping security measures. Methodically, she's made her way across the place. The birds were fine -- the penguins were adorable as always, worth a few squeals of delight -- the sea lions were sleeping, the lemurs were eating quietly, the red pandas were curled up in their tails, but the lions? "...what the hell," whispers Patsy to herself from her shadowy tuck flat against the public observation deck's rooftop. She writes a few more cramped notes on her small lined-paper notebook about the figure walking through the creatures with no appearance of threat. "Madman." An eyebrow rises unseen behind her suit's mask with its shaped ears.
Thomas Blake	The man is silent, but showing great affection to the big cats, pats, scritches. Then a lioness reaches out and grabs him. he goes down, fast and the two roll about. This is usually the point where a cat -no matter the size, uses their back claws and disembowel their opponent. -In this case, the lioness is on her back quickly and getting a belly rub. The male lets out a roar and the man looks sharply at him. Male don't care and roars again. Cats be cats. The man stops the belly rub, sighs and leaps on the male.
Patsy Walker	"GEEZUS!" hisses the hidden figure, slapping her notebook and pen down (pen be damned if it rolls away down the roof) in order to get her hands and knees beneath herself. She's very ready to intervene when the appearances of potential gut-ripping turn on a dime. "...really, what the hell is this." Patsy lifts her head a little higher to see the outcome of the sudden tussling with the maned male lion. As she does, ambient light gleams off the inky blackness of her eared mask with bluish undertones.
Thomas Blake	It must be eerie, being as stealthy as Patsy is to have a pride of lions suddenly looking your way as well as the man, who seemed to be having a bit of good natured wrestling with the male as well as a good main tussle. The man looks up at Patsy, seeming to see her clearly, despite the dark. He keeps his face neutral and says matter of factly, "You should try to stay downwind of lions. You'll stay healthy that way. Don't upset them. They just ate. Nero in particular can be a real dick to strangers."
Patsy Walker	"I thought the moat was there to keep them from jumping out in the first place, but hey, nobody can control the wind." There's the sense of a bemused smile in Patsy's words as they drift down into the exhibit now. She lifts her head up a little more and folds her arms just on the other side of the observation deck roof's apex. "I'm fine staying up here, no worries. Brave of you to be in there. What's your name?" This, of course, she asks politely if for reasons of enacting protocol as detective. Find out your target's name if you can, better to back-check files if they exist.
Thomas Blake	Thomas Blake says, "I figure the lions have us both beat also and I went by their reaction ;)"
Thomas Blake	Thomas Blake nods at a lioness and she walks over to the edge of the moat. He launches himself, using her as a springboard. He snaps out metal blades on his c=gloves to t=catch the wall and using them climbs to the enclosure's rim, leaping the rest of the way, tattered cape fluttering in the chill March night. "You a cop?" he asks, landing gracefully.
Patsy Walker	By the time Thomas sticks his landing, the young woman in the orange and black catsuit is on her feet. Notepad and pen are both vanished somewhere, but not on her person; no lines of the suit are ruined, to quote another comic persona. Draped about her frame to hide most of it, the cloak stirs as the wind catches at it, its colors shifting muted red to wine and back. "If I were a cop, you'd be tazed and on the ground right now," the young woman notes with a wry laughter in undertone. "I'm just curious about the guy waltzing around in the lion enclosure after hours at night. It's not a common hobby. You still didn't give me your name though," she notes.
Thomas Blake	Thomas Blake is circling Patsy. "There are no cops who look like you, lady. I don't taze easily. I'm Catman. I try to keep things simple. And your name?" The circling continues, half threat, half curious. His eye shine green behind his cowl. "You wouldn't have heard of me. I've been out of circulation for a while and a low tier theme criminal before that."
Patsy Walker	Patsy's own eyes, steel-blue, mark the circular travel about her person. She's got her arms folded and what appears to be a great deal of faith in herself given she doesn't turn to keep her front towards the man prowling around the rooftop of the observation deck. "Catman's simple enough to remember," she agrees. "I guess you're proud of your accomplishments then if you're sharing them with me? It's nice of you to share. You can call me the Hellcat if you want." Patsy doesn't offer a handshake or anything, but she does give the caped man a half-smirk. "Are you an animal rights activist or something? People sometimes do shady stuff in that field."
Thomas Blake	Thomas Blake says, "Well I told you as much as you told me. Anyone could call themselves Catnman, right, Hellcat? Love the cape. I'm guessing you aren't busting me. I hope your client paid you in advance. He's a back biter and... we will have words at some later date. Are you going to try to take me in? If not, we can get some coffee if you want. It's cold out." He stops his circling and sniffs, "Milk and Honey body wash? I never get used to tough talking female capes smelling of lavender and tea tree oil. It makes taking their badassery seriously very difficult."
Patsy Walker	Patsy's mouth parts into a moue of mild confusion. "Uh...not body wash, no, hand soap at the kitchen sink. I'm more of a mandarin and rose kind of girl. I guess you could elaborate about roses and thorns if you want to approach it like that." She shrugs beneath her own cloak and its hem riffles about her shins. Boots gleam blue-black beneath the fabric. "I did get paid in advance though, so thanks for letting me know about the off-chance of being double-crossed. It's really more that guy's problem in the end if he tries it, since his job apparently rests on figuring out who's doing the trespassing." She blinks. "...coffee? You just said you were a criminal. Doesn't that kind of preclude any sort of friendly advances? Or are you different kind of criminal?" When Patsy tilts her head curiously, her red hair left free spills forward on the cloak.
Thomas Blake	Thomas Blake shrugs. "I said I /was/ a theme criminal. I went to jail. Got released. No warrants on me. What an ex-con can't drink coffee or talk to a beautiful vigilante? Anyway, Batman does more B&E jobs in a night than most crooks do in a year... in the name of justice! I stole some baubles and did time. Let's call this a gray area, Hellcat. I'm not breaking the law now, am I? I'll buy." He leans closer, and whispers conspiratorily, "I ran across Wonder Woman one time, magnificent woman... uses Baby Shampoo." He nods slowly. His claws are retracted and he seems relaxed. A lion sniffs, probably at a bit of zebra left uneaten.
Patsy Walker	Patsy lifts her brows unseen behind her mask. "I had no idea Wonder Woman used baby shampoo. I know that the stuff is easy on your hair and skin, it makes sense if she's allergic to anything." Not that Diana is, but Hellcat wouldn't know; she can only surmise of the impossibly strong woman. Unseen beneath the cloak and her folded arms, she disengages her own set of claws from her gloves. "I also usually don't take people up on coffee who hide beneath masks and all -- and yes, I'm including myself in this statement." A black-gloved finger appears to circle in the direction of her own face. "I could be an absolute maniac or serial killer out on the lam myself and you'd have no idea." Another small smirk appears.
Thomas Blake	Thomas Blake smiles at her. Then with a shrug he pulls his cowl back and smiles. He needs a shave, but would probably not be misplaced on a magazine cover. His strawberry blond hair falls over one eye slightly. He points at her loose hair and says, "See? I'm a fellow ginger. You can relax... if not trust me. Now show me yours?"
Patsy Walker	Consider Patsy stunned. It shows on the bottom half of her face visible in how her mouth falls open. "Uhhhhhhhh." A quick grimace is followed by a tight smile. "See, my take on vigilantism is that you have to remain secret. Maybe it's different for a criminal -- er, formal criminal -- themed thief -- but you'll have to forgive me for wanting to keep my mask on. It kind of ruins all the secrecy if I take it off, you know?" Gloved hands appear and lift in a shrug outline of the lines of her cloak. "But hey, fellow ginger, right on, at least I can trust your hair color!"
Thomas Blake	Thomas Blake rolls his eyes slightly. "Pity. I guess coffee is out. Well my lovely feline gumshoe. I happen to be the best tracker in the world. Forget furry liitle Canadian. I'm for hire for all kinds of mischief. If you want me put the word out and I will hear. Otherwise, stake out the lions and wait. But like I said I'm available if you want my services." He turns to leave.
Patsy Walker	"Fair enough," notes the redhead behind her eared mask. She glances over at the exhibit with the lions sniffing over meat scraps. "If I ever need something purr-loined, I'll bring a thermos and a sandwich and sit here after-hours. I promise not to engage with Nero either, since you mentioned he was an asshole." Out comes her notepad and pen from somewhere in the confines of her cloak and she writes down a quick note, lips purled, given his back is turned. "You have a nice night in the meantime, Catman," she calls out as she too then turns to depart. She's got enough information to report back to her client, including that warning to watch out for the thief. An agile leap off of the observation deck roof comes along with a flutter of red cloak and then she too vanishes into the night.