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Quinn

Night Owls And Other Fowl (IC)

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Fred's Diner.

Corner of 49th and 6th.

Freedom City, USA.

11:29 PM

 

Freedom City's cowls were a rarefied bunch. They knew each other and how they worked; and when one disappeared, it was noticeable. Not enough to cause a massive stir - some heroes just came and went - but Cerys Pefr knew Morgan Crowe a bit better than most. He might be appalled why, mind, or approving - either-or. As it stands; he'd dropped off the grid about four years ago, shortly after a quiet wedding to a young lady. Scuttlebutt said he'd disappeared from the very limousine carrying them to an airport for a honeymoon, no less. Neither'd arrived at their destination.

 

He'd picked a fine time to disappear, though - Parkhurst had been up to it's eyeballs in their own problems, and by the time it became obvious he was missing, they couldn't find hide nor hair of him or her. Just another unsolved mystery for Freedom City.

 

Until now.

 

Rumor had it that a familiar cowl and coat had been working the Waterfront and the Fens again, with occasional appearances in other trouble spots across the city. That Crowe Security Consulting had reopened - citing a brief closure for renovations. That a face had appeared in Parkhurst at least once, studying tomes of scrying and tracking. That a lot of questions had been asked - usually at fist or knifepoint - to various henchmen concerning one Victoria Knight-Crowe. Or Crowe-Knight.

 

And, in other news - one Morgan Crowe was apparently now a semi-regular patron downtown at Fred's Diner. Best milkshakes and burgers in town. He sat at a corner booth, looking over a folder of security information - using a knife to ferry fries one by one to his waiting maw.

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Blodeuwedd had always had a strange relationship with Morgan, without him she wouldn't have existed in the shape she had now. But at Claremont she'd never really had that much to do with him, having get involved with a little group of friends of her very own. But she still kept tabs on his movements and read the reports her Order on his progress, his disappearance had definitely been of some concern. So when an Oracle got a potential vision of his location she pulled a few strings to go back to Freedom City.

 

Like a lot of cowls she travelled along the rooftops of the city, which were almost like a second home to her as to how often she travelled them, before she dropped into a hand alley. For this one Cerys would be doing the investigation. Entering Fred's Cafe she went straight to the counter

 

 "One coffee please, and make it strong." as normal when spending anytime at home her Welsh accent was particularly strong.

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Avian-like hearing caused a head to perk up, and Morgan peered his head 'round the seat - blinking at a familiar rear end. One he'd admired before dating Vicky, admittedly. Now, it was a surprise to see - to say nothing of the familiar hair and frame. Now, if that face was the one he thought it - yes, yes it was!

 

"Cerys? Cerys Pefr?" She did recognize that voice, a clean baritone with a slight bit of a Boston brogue. If she turned, she'd see a slight bit of astonishment on a far more careworn Morgan Crowe's face. A light stubble dusting his chin and upper lip, and a fairly faded scar crossing the top left of his forehead, 'round to his ear. Taken a nasty clip there, it seemed. Around his neck was that old shark-tooth necklace he'd made after a mess back in the Claremont days, and there was a mess of scars as well on the back of his left hand - the hand which still had a Celtic knot ring around his middle finger.

 

He cocked his head sideways, to get a better look at her face. A long pause. Then a fairly wry smile. "Of all the coffee shops in all the towns in the world?"

Edited by Quinn

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One thing Blodeuwedd had always done very well was read other people body language, so she couldn't help but smile at Morgan's obviously reaction. A natural performer, honed over years of practice, she managed to make it a more friendly smile and it was nice to see him again. She wasn't the grim and serious little girl she was when she first went to Claremont all those years ago, well no where nears as serious as back then. Giving a friendly little wave she payed for her coffee, she needed it with the differing Time Zones, and walked over to the booth where Morgan was sat.

 

"Morgan it's been so long! Do you mind if I sit here?" she gestured to the empty seat 

 

"

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At the 'it's been so long', his smile turned more than a little brittle - but he masked it very well. Even managed to snort - "You even have to ask? Oy, Fred, two slices of pie over here, and a cocoa refill."

 

He settled back in his seat, watching her take the one across, and pushed his paperwork to the side with the air of a man who really didn't want to deal with that right now; a slight smirk creasing his face. "New client wants the works. I'm not sure if I'm glad business jumped the second I opened the doors, or regretting the slow death of my free time."

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He was good but without any boasting she was better there was tiny little clue that something was amiss, she wished sometimes she had some of her friends ability to just come out and ask the question.But that wasn’t really her way, it was like a game she couldn’t help but play. Giving her best smile she slid into the seat opposite him, she was the keen friends catching up on old times.

 

“Wow I haven’t seen you for years! How have you been? I means I haven’t heard much about you work...” she smiled and sipped her coffee “And you know what gossips everyone is in our profession!”

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Morgan gave a look that basically said he knew exactly what she was doing - and sighed as plates with a slice of apple pie each (heated) was put in front of the two of them - and a cup of steaming cocoa at his hand. He sipped, seeming to marshal his thoughts. Took a fair amount of time, actually,

 

"You might say I've been...kept busy. Emphasis on kept. Almost wouldn't let me leave, this...last client. Couldn't contact folks until I got back into town; ever...work...in a place with no cell reception? Absolute nightmare." The scarred hand seemed to twitch slightly, but he controlled it by picking up the hot mug and taking another draught. "Honestly, it's like some people are just so rude, y'know? No idea of humanity or decency. Practically an Autumn child."

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Blodeuwedd began to eat her slice of pie as she carefully decoded exactly what Morgan was saying, not a deep code it was true but it was always best to double check that she hadn’t missed any important. Not that she was struggling to understand the basic message. And it was mighty fine pie to boot.

 

“I think I’ve met there sort before, you sometime need to be a little cold and use an iron fist. Did you manage to come to some arrangement with them, or are you planning a return visit?”

 

It was shame that both of them didn’t speak the same Celtic language or this would be a much easier conversation.

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Crowe sipped from his hot chocolate, and pointedly didn't sag in relief. A slight quirk to one side of his mouth, though, was enough to convey thanks that she'd understood. He marshaled his words again, ferrying a forkful of apple-cinnamon goodness (Gods, how he'd missed this kind of food!) to his maw and chewing thoughtfully on it, before swallowing and shaking his head.

 

"We were...unable to reach an accommodation. He saw me one way - I saw myself another. It got...messy. Birds never do enjoy enclosed spaces for long periods of time, anyway." A somewhat brittle - but wry - smile, and he put his fork down; leaning his arms on the table. "Helluva way to end a four-year job, hn?"

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It was getting difficult to keep things so vague especially as they got into the more esoteric nature of the place he'd been. She sipped her coffee for few seconds as she carefully considered what to say next.

 

"I've had jobs like that, where hours feel like days, and to be fair a few that have gone the other way. Though they're far rarer in my experience." She paused so not to over play thing to much "I hope you didn't have the same experience."

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It took Morgan a fair few moments to cogitate on his answer to that - emptying the cocoa mug and signalling the waitress for another. He wasn't sure he'd suffered any time dilation, but then, four years wasn't really that much in the grand scheme of physical growth. Though he'd made sure to shave a few days ago.

 

"...not so far as I know. The nature of the...job...would have been ruined if it only felt like a few days, rather than years." That was a bit too close a comment for his liking, but what could you do? "...though I did grow a fairly epic beard by the end of it. Shaving implements weren't exactly available; for obvious reasons." Wry smile.

 

He sipped from the refilled cup. "I owe Mr. Branagh quite a bit for giving me that job. Should I see him again, I think I might take great pains to detail just how grateful I am."

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Blodeuwedd didn’t know Morgan that well, actually that was untrue she had studied everything that the Order had procured about him but they’d never been close. But one thing she’d learned to appreciate, both Claremont and The Order, was the loyalty to others.

 

“If you do see him again I’d be happy to come along to show my moral support, sometime more people can help business go that much smoother.”

 

She hoped he got just how genuine the offer was, it was difficult to get the point across with them talking in code.

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...really said something for what he must have gone through, that she got an actual grateful nod instead of a poker face to her offer. Even a fervently murmured;

 

"...that would be...deeply appreciated."

 

He mutely sipped his refilled cocoa, shifting about; a gesture reminiscent of settling ruffled feathers. Morgan understood, alright. Another draught, and he tried to perk himself up. "So - what's the latest? I only got into town a few weeks ago - just got caught up on the newspaper funnies."

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Blodeuwedd was quiet for what seemed liked forever as she sipped on her coffee, she always considered her words but now she gave them a little more thought than usual. Especially as she had to remember and consider which version of the “truth” she was going to use.

 

“I don’t spend as much time in Freedom City as I travel around the country quite a bit on family business. Though I’m pretty sure that I could swing some more time in the city, for if you need my help.”


It shouldn’t be hard to swing more time in the city, especially with how important the Seers had been about Crow the first time around.

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A tiny bristle, at the implication he needed help, but he settled down quickly. Truth be told, he did need help getting back in the swing of things. Not that the little voice in the back of his head would admit it.

 

"Ah. Gotta love family business." Lord only knew how often he'd been shuttled around Tir na Nog on that. "You having any problems of your own you need help with, then? You scratch my back, I scratch yours an' all - Claremont represent, right?"

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One thing that the Order had in common with Claremont was that they emphasised the value of teamwork, it was probably why Summer’s allowed her to remain at the school despite their attempt at deception. It was sometimes a little frustrating as she was naturally a bit of a loner, though she had a small circle of good friend. She wasn’t sure which category she’d placed Crow in yet, because he had once been considered a target she’d studied him in considerable detail. Still really good pie certainly was a mark in the plus column.

 

“Of cause I will gladly accept you assistance when the time comes. We live in a strange world alongside these superheroes and there are probably a few that understand it fully.” she was obviously feeling verbose tonight,maybe it was the really good pie or just company that she would understand

 

“I hate to mention it but are you sorted for the more mundane needs? It is easy to be prideful in such situations but you know that there are people who can help.”

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