Out for a Walk [Open]

[megan]

It seems a bit eerie to Margaret to not be at her cafe this time of the morning, but here she is. Even more eerie is how quiet the streets are. She's out of supplies for her cafe and can't seem to find a way to get more of them without some risk on her part. Her regular supplier told her that the FBI were allowing shipments of food through, but mainly to the grocery stores. Restaurants and the like only get supplies after a careful screening - and if that means what Margaret thinks it does then she knows better than to submit to that.

She's heard tales of regular citizens with the flimsiest of ties to criminals being taken in for questioning by the FBI, only to not be seen again much more often than not. And given that she knows that her cafe is known to be frequented by many shady individuals, it's probably better in Margaret's case if she does nothing to attract attention to herself. Which means that she gets no supplies for her cafe at wholesale. Not only that, but a surprisingly large number of her customer base has been arrested.

She's still managing to open in the evenings, serving food at cost from what she can buy at the regular market to the most loyal of her customers, but there's hardly any money in that. She can earn a little from tips that way, but that doesn't do much better than cover her operating costs. Not enough to pay the bills. And if she raised her prices enough to cover them, then her customers wouldn't be able to afford what she's selling. So much for her savings. She can only hope that the FBI's plans to clean up the city sink faster than she does.

Frustrated by her problems, Margaret finds herself wandering the streets near her apartment. Normally doing that would be risky, but the FBI has managed to clear up most of the people who commit petty street crimes. And it takes only about two seconds looking at Margaret to know that she's not the sort of person who'd have much, if any, money anyway. Then again, if she got killed by some desperate nutcase, that would solve all her problems.

[majireon]

Irwin had been popping into and out of areas of Gotham for the last hour. His back was starting to hurt. He sighed, and looked along park row, no longer really expecting to find the person he was looking for, but going through the motions anyway. Then with an excited yelp of joy, he noticed his target. He straightened up, his strained back creaking in protest, and teleported one last time.

He came to a stop in front of the woman he had been looking for, and looked her up and down, unsure how she would react to his appearance, what with his previous nonexistence, followed rapidly by his sudden existence directly in front of her. He decided that it would probably be best to just forge ahead. The less time she had to react the better.

"Oh my god! I have been looking for you everywhere!" He dropped the almost cartoonishly massive canvas bag from his back, and awkwardly stepped over it, to pull her into a firm hug that he very much hoped conveyed that he was friendly, and not hostile. The last time he had hugged someone, they had tried to kill him for several weeks,claiming that he had tried to squeeze them to death, and he didn't want a repeat performance.

He quickly stepped back, and tripped over the bag that he had forgotten was behind him. He extricated himself from his own tangle of limbs, after much mumbling, flailing, and half a dozen or so random, unconnected curse words that, really, only seemed to be added for the sake of Margaret who he had decided would expect him to curse at his own clumsiness. He popped to his feet grinning like a madman.

"Sorry, I would have been here sooner, but Daniel is a lazy wanker. He started this post ages ago, and then never finished it...anyway, beside the point...so...um...yeah..." He paused and waved. "Hi, I'm Ambush Bug."

[megan]

How does Margaret react? Minimally, to say the least. She stops short and blinks in surprise at the man who abruptly appears in front of her, but after the few seconds it takes for her to adjust to the fact that a man in a bright green suit literally appeared right in front of her she takes it rather well. The hug gets a surprised blink too, but though she doesn't return it it's blatantly obvious that this is the sort of woman who wouldn't freak out if a bomb went off - she's seen a lot of odd things in her day. Perhaps nothing quite as odd as this guy, but close enough.

In fact, she simply waits for the cursing and nonsensical statements to end before asking, "Can I help you?" Might as well fall back on her old standby of being quietly polite. Obviously this guy is a crazy nut, and though that type of person is often dangerous many times they're not. Then again, it's perhaps surprising just how little she cares which type of crazy nut he is.

[majireon]

Bug felt his jaw drop. He gasped. "Holy god, Are you Psychic? If you have powers, and don't tell me, that's entrapment, I know my rights." He said as he dropped into a ludicrous variation of a karate pose. He watched her carefully, before slowly leaning forward suspiciously, and looking closely at her face, trying to discern her mental abilities with a visual inspection.

After a few seconds of intense staring at her forehead, he blinked slowly, and leaned back apparently satisfied with what he saw. "OK, so not psychic. Good. they always take the fun out of everything, don't ya think. I mean, c'mon, how hard is it to win if you know what the other guy is thinking."

"For the record, I'm not a psychic either, I just happen to know that you aren't psychic because no one could have saw what I was just thinking at you and not blushed. I know, I've tested it on several strippers...wait...did I say strippers? I meant professional dancing clothes removal specialists. They're different."

He sighed and flopped down on the large bag he had dropped onto the sidewalk, sprawling out, looking like the embodiment of despair. You know...If despair wore a green suit, and sat on massive burlap sacks on the sidewalk in park row. He looked up at Margaret from his perch on the sack, and squinted one eye. "You know from down here, if I squint, you look kinda like Cynthia Nixon. Anyone ever told you that? Meh, forget about it, lets get back to that whole you helping me thing."

He jumped back to his feet, and pointed back at the burlap sack. "I need a huge favor. See, I run a detective agency, and I woke up this morning, and like most mornings, I thought, 'OH god, why, oh why, am I awake, and why does the sun burn me so?' Then I moved past all that, and drug myself into the kitchen to make myself some 'super serum'. he said this last bit with air quotes, and grinned.

"I just decided right now that that is what I'm calling it from now on. Anyway, I got to the kitchen, and lo and behold, tragedy. I had no ingredients, and my machine had been sabotaged. No doubt by some nefarious knave with a knack for sabotage-ery type actions. Either that, or I haven't cleaned it once since I bought it and its too gunked up, but I'm going with the first one. You know, cause its makes more sense." He hefted the bag back onto his shoulder, with much grunting and wheezing, and looked back at Margaret.

"So after much perilous questing, and several possibly illegal teleportations into secret government warehouses, I found the ingredients I need for my 'super serum', but as I said, my machine is broken, so I need you to use yours to brew me up a fresh batch. Whaddya say?"

[megan]

"Most people need my help," Margaret says, completely deadpan. And mostly because she doesn't know what else to say - she hardly knows exactly what to make of this guy. And her statement is true enough, especially when it comes to people who don't think that they need her help.

But apparently this guy isn't one of those, but a person who does need her help. She tries to be patient as he tells a story with far too many tangents and not enough of getting to the point. And though Margaret is an extremely patient woman, for once she finds herself talking to someone that she feels could use a little bit more conciseness.

When he finally makes it to his actual request, she frowns slightly as she considers it. "If you break my machine, you have to get me a new one," she replies after a moment, "If you're okay with that, then you can use it." It's not like the thing is cheap, after all, and money is an extremely important issue for her at the moment. But, barring that possibility, she has no reason not to help the man. Indeed, it may not be a good idea to refuse if he's as manic he seems.