Closing Time [Simon]

[megan]

Finishing wiping off the back counter, Margaret deposits the rag she was using with a few others for washing later and then pauses to survey the state of the cafe. Business has been slow this evening, which means that she's probably going to be able to close early. Which means that she's going to be able to catch up on some much needed sleep, though she'll also be making less money today - there's always pluses and minuses with slow evenings.

The cafe is already most of the way set for the night and, deciding it's time to close fully, she walks over to the door and switches the sign there from 'Open' to 'Closed' so that nobody new comes in expecting to be served, and then she walks back over behind the counter to finish cleaning up there. The tables have already been cleared and wiped down, the floor has been spot mopped, so there's only a short list of things to do before she can head for home.

As she works she mulls over the snippets of conversations she heard over the course of the day. Given that a number of her customers are grunt workers for the various criminal elements, she hears a lot about what who is doing what. But then, she minds her own business and pretends she didn't hear. Not only would 'hearing' be bad for business, it might also get life-threatening if she didn't maintain her reputation of never talking to anyone ever. Which is false, but she's careful to maintain the facade.

[simonsays]

"Well whaddya know, somebody in this crummy hole does know how to tidy up.

The obligatory snide remark about the largely dilapidated state of Gotham's East Side was made by another familiar element of Gotham City: a two-bit crook trying to make a name for himself. The fact that he was trying to make a move on what was considered neutral territory meant he was either new in town or stupid, but whatever the case, from the looks of him and his companion they didn't appear to be in the shop for a mocha latte and some leftover pastries. They lacked suits, which meant they probably weren't associated with any of the major crime families. Which made their setup to the whole 'extortion' approach a little comical in its own right, like they'd seen one too many crime dramas.

The Talker was the usual breed of Gotham hood-for-hire. Big enough to move boxes, throw punches, or present a nice target for the Batman or any cops that showed up, and not much useful for anything else. And if the scarring under his left eye was any indication, he'd been in a few hard fights already, and his jaw didn't seem to sit right. Probably broken once before, and his nose bore similar signs of abuse. His 'outfit' looked to be just as confused as he probably was, since he was wearing dark blue dress slacks over cheap leather shoes, and what looked to be a white collared shirt underneath a discarded biker vest. Adding the eyebrow piercings and shaved head to the mix, it was pretty obvious the young man was either painfully new at this or had some extremely eccentric tastes in fashion.

"This is a nice lookin' place, alright. Real homey. No wonder all them other guys keep comin' in here."

Talker's companion, Yes Man, seemed to be a little more up on the mob scene than his leader was. Dressed in a black sport coat, albeit a cheap one, dress slacks, and similarly colored leather shoes, all he was missing was one of the dime-a-dozen Tommy Guns that flooded Gotham. The outfit was a bit ruined by the fact the pants were an inch too short though, and the fedora a size too small judging from the way it clung tight enough to his head for him to fiddle with it constantly. He was smaller than Talker as well, coming in at only 5'8", though he appeared a bit stockier and like he was more of a use in a scrap. Not that it would help either of them, if the major families caught wind of what they were up to.

"Course, that's the problem, innit? Lady, you get a lotta disreputable types in here, and they ain't always playin' ball for the same team, know what I mean?" Talker stated, waving one arm across the small shop, gesturing at all the potentially breakable items in the room for his upcoming pitch. Definitely watched one too many crime dramas. "Times are changin. Ya got some new guy with a mask causin' trouble, how long's it gonna be before the big boys start dukin' it out in 'ere cuz they've had a bad day at work, huh? You gonna break 'em up, shove 'em out the door 'fore somethin' gets broken? I don't think so."

Convinced he'd made a persuasive enough case, Talker adjusted the collar of his shirt and put on his best 'professional' look he could. Not that it helped much, given the mixed wardrobe, but it was the thought that counted. Probably.

"Lucky for you, my associate and I are available round the clock, should just such a sitiation arise, for a small fee of course."

Yes Man, meanwhile, started to interject and correct his partner on the proper pronunciation of the word 'situation' when he appeared to develop second thoughts. His mouth shut before he could say anything, and he straightened his posture to put on the same confident but somewhat corny look that Talker had already gone for.

Of course, neither one was aware they were being watched. While Talker waited for what he presumed would be a grateful acceptance of his offer from Margaret Queen, and the easy payday that was sure to follow (how could it not?), one of Gotham's vigilante brood was perched on the rooftop across the street. He couldn't help but watch, intrigued by the curious scene unfolding on the other side of the glass door and large windows of the cafe. The sign clearly said closed, so the two oddly dressed men probably weren't supposed to be inside, but at the same time it didn't look like they were stealing anything or causing any trouble.

Which was, of course, the only reason Simon wasn't down there already. He couldn't decide if this was something he should be dealing with, or just two people who didn't know that the store was closed. Out of the three of them, he was probably the only one who actually needed to watch a mobster flick, but hadn't...

[megan]

Margaret, by any measure, is not a big woman. Or a strong one. And she's never thrown a punch in her life and looks it. Still, when the two men enter her cafe, obviously looking for trouble even if the way they're going about it is a bit laughable, she pauses in what she's doing and simply folds her arms in front of her and gives them both a very stern look - probably doing a good imitation of both of their mothers when they're very displeased.

"I've had this place for over twenty years, and I ain't never paid anyone a dime for protection and I ain't starting now. I've had rogues in here as customers - your words ain't about to worry me. And you're not getting anything from me," she says flatly. One may easily mistake her taking that position as bravery, but it's more that Margaret just doesn't care any more. All she has left is her cafe and the minuscule amount of money she's been able to earn with it, and even if she weren't made of too stern of stuff to accept this, she really can't afford having anyone take a cut out of her money.

"So why don't you boys just go on home, and I'll forget you came by," she adds. She's doubtful that her words will work, even though they're obviously brand new at this, but it's always worth a shot. Still, she's not bluffing - she's literally willing to pay any price they care to dole out for not complying. At the very least, she has a number of very loyal customers with a lot of guns - someone's bound to make them pay. It just won't be her.

[simonsays]

Margaret's response to their 'generous' off, coupled with her rather dismissive attitude, seemed to catch Talker off guard. Was the old lady really refusing? His eyes widened at the very thought, and he looked over his shoulder at Yes Man, as if the other man might have some idea of what to do. Heck, maybe he was hallucinating or something. The smaller man only shrugged his shoulders, looking just as perplexed as Talker was. The problem was, he was also looking at Talker to address the situation. How the heck were they gonna get any respect in this town if they could be thwarted by some old lady's scolding? Maybe all she needed was a visual demonstration.

Simon, meanwhile, had dropped down from his vantage point across the street to land stealthily in the alley adjacent to the building. Now he could see the third person in the shop again, the lady. She...didn't seem like she was pleased the other two were present, but not outwardly hostile either. She wasn't shouting, at least. Even if she were, Simon wasn't close enough to hear. He had many different abilities at his disposal, but a superhuman sense of hearing wasn't one of them. He was getting better at reading facial expressions though, and he was watching all three of the individuals inside the shop carefully...

"Look, lady, I don't think you get it. This part o' the city's a powder keg just waitin' to go off, 'specially here. Maybe one o' your regulars sees a guy he don't like. A guy he reeeeally don't like, sittin right outside that there window..." Talker paused, indicating one of the large windows at the front of the shop. Noticably absent from the view of the street was the white masked individual who had previously been watching from the alley across the road. Yes Man, meanwhile, was picking up one of the tables, after knocking the chairs off the top of it.

"Now, maybe this guy made him look bad fer his boss, so he pulls out his piece, and BLAM!" Talker continued, even going to the length of making a mock gun with his fingers and pointing it at the window. On the rather obviously set up cue, Yes Man smashed the window with the table to shower the shop and the pavement outside with shards of broken glass. When he was finished, he simply tossed the table through the broken window. Theatrics complete, Talker and Yes Man both turned around to see if they'd made their point yet. Though, just to be extra certain, Yes Man turned to pick up a second table...completely unaware that someone had crept up to the broken window behind him until he was suddenly grabbed from behind and dragged out through the opening, pants and legs alike cut on the broken glass as he was pulled out. His attempts to warn Talker didn't seem to help, due in no small part to the stranger's gloved hand covering his mouth. All it took was a single punch outside, and Yes Man was out for the evening. It took only a few seconds, and already Simon was half finished.

Talker, however, continued, completely oblivious to what was going on.

"And suddenly, you got a busted window and a stiff outside. But maybe there was two guys he didn't like out there. So he turns his gun to the other guy, outside another window-"

This time when Talker turned around, the coffee shop wasn't as empty as it had been before, nor was it just a window in front of him. Instead, there was a young man dressed in ragged clothes with a patchwork mask sewn together from pieces of white fabric. Granted, in this city, wearing what looked to be a costume made from the personal wardrobe of two different slasher movie villains probably wasn't the most shocking thing anyone would see, but it certainly gave Talker and Yes Man pause. Could have been worse though, at least this costumed hero wasn't bat-themed.

"What the-"

"You should leave." Simon spoke with an eerie calm in his voice, and was staring out through his mask with pale gray eyes that seemed to indicate he was just as unimpressed with the two as Margaret was. Which, in truth, he was; he'd faced far worse foes than two hoodlums trying to make a quick buck. "Now."

"Hey, buddy, I don't know who you are, but you better scram before I have my buddy-" Talker threatened, only to notice that there was something missing from the scene at the front of the cafe. Namely, the person he'd come here with. There was just the broken window, and the freak in the mask. The same one he was currently pointing an imaginary gun at. "Oh...oh ho, you are dead, kid!"

The imaginary gun was returned to the inside of Talker's vest, and a real gun pulled out in it's place. Simon didn't appear particularly fazed, but he did quickly regret giving the odd man the chance to produce a real weapon. He darted forward as soon as he saw the familiar glint of steel, slamming his fist into the man's gut. Talker, doubled over, was still trying to lift the weapon up when Simon's elbow connected to the back of his neck and sent him straight into the floor. The gun fell from his hand on the way down, clattering on the floor and thankfully not discharging in the process. It was a snubnose revolver, only really useful at close range, but if the confines of the cafe were anything, they were certainly close. Simon could have survived a gunshot wound, but he wasn't so certain the woman inside could. Speaking of whom...

"Sorry about your window."

Strangely, from the sound of his voice, the masked boy actually did sound genuinely sorry, and not like he was making a half-witted attempt at lightening the mood. With the second man down, he looked back to the woman who he assumed owned the shop, looking at her apologetically from behind the patchwork mask. "I didn't know what they were doing. I didn't know they wanted to cause trouble. I would have helped sooner."[/color]

So what if he wasn't the most articulate person in the world, Simon's words still sounded genuine. Of course, whether or not anyone in this city could believe a person lived in Gotham who didn't recognize an extortion attempt when they saw one was another matter entirely, but Simon had no reason to lie. "Can you fix it?"

[megan]

No lecture on just how dangerous of a neighborhood she operates in would have any effect on Margaret - she knows. The fact that she's still here proves that she even accepts in, in her way. Still a frown tugs at her face when one of them picks up a table, and when it smashes the window she noticeably flinches. But no, it's not enough to sway Margaret. She knows how much protection money costs, and it's a lot more than replacing a window.

And the fact that, aside from the flinch and the frown, Margaret is unmoved should hint that she's prepared to suffer worse. But then, from her vantage point, she can see much sooner than the two men that she won't have to. Not that has any idea who the odd-looking young man lurking around is, but she's an excellent reader of people herself and he's clearly here to help. And so as Talker continued and his buddy was dispatched, she passively waits for the situation to conclude.

At least, passively until she sees the man produce a gun, at which point she reflexively ducks behind the counter. But then, she's also able to identify the sound of the gun falling to the floor almost immediately, so she's nearly as quick to straighten again, though she doesn't stand fully until she sees that the second man is down. She's never liked violence, especially in her cafe, but that's something she can't really avoid very well, and she's not about to complain about the young man taking it upon himself to stop the two men before they did worse.

"No harm done," she replies to his apology. By which she means that she's simply happy that she's unharmed. Still the expression on her face as her eyes drift to the broken window and she mentally ads up how much it'll cost to fix indicates that her unhappiness with that detail extends beyond the fact that there's a mess to clean up. She really doesn't want to have to come up with that kind of money. "Yeah, I know a guy," she answers his question - she still has the number of the man who replaced the door not all that long ago.

[simonsays]

Appearing as though he'd just remembered something, turned his head toward the broken window and walked toward the broken window and stepped outside. His boots crunched on the broken glass as soon as they touched the ground, but he was on his way back inside before too long anyway. And carrying the small table that had been sent outside by Yes Man. Simon set it back down where he thought he'd seen it picked up, quietly staring at the placement before he set the chairs on top of the table where they belonged. Personally he didn't see the point, but if every other table was like that, he decided this one should be too.

"Does this happen often?" he eventually asked, turning his head to look at the shop lady again. "People breaking things. And meaning to." He wasn't too familiar with this part of Gotham, and honestly he simply wanted to get some kind of idea as to which parts of the city could use his help the most. Granted, nearly every part of Gotham save a few fortunate neighborhoods seemed to be in dire need of policing, but the Village had remained largely untouched in comparison to many parts of Gotham. It was one of the many reasons he hadn't tried to return yet. If people needed help so badly outside the Village, it wouldn't be right to abandon them just to go home...

[megan]

While the young man retrieves the table, Margaret quietly picks up the gun, but she simply places it behind the counter for safe keeping until she can pass it along to better hands. She doesn't like handling weapons herself, though she knows a couple of people she could give it to who would be able to get rid of it properly so that it doesn't end up in a criminal's hands. If they were any other place that would be a job for the police, but this is east Gotham - the police don't dare venture here, especially at night, for fear of being attacked. Similarly, there's nothing to be done with the two knocked-out criminals - though when they come to it's unlikely that they'll do anything other than leave. And with any luck, they'll decide to leave Mae's Cafe alone or decide that they'd rather be its customers instead of its 'protectors'.

That done, Margaret pulls out a broom and dustpan to sweep up the glass. She won't be able to do a thing to fix the window aside from patch it with a bit of cardboard until morning, though given the cafe's neutral status and the fact that any idiot would realize that she'll take the till with her it's unlikely there will be another break-in overnight. Luckily the weather's been good so rain won't be an issue. As she starts to sweep she answers his question with, "In here? No, not usually. People in this neighborhood like me. Outside, though, worse happens all day everyday. The police don't come 'round here and even the vigilantes are careful. Too many big men with big guns. Those two you just took care of weren't nothing."

Having sensed that the young man is as they say 'not from around here', she gives him a better answer than she would otherwise. Anyone local wouldn't have to ask, and if someone of Simon's description was running around this area then Margaret would have heard. She hears a lot, after all. Still, his presence doesn't seem to faze her. Then again, little does.