2012 02 01 Daughter Of Dragon Son Of Dragon Dragon Slayer

Log Title:
Daughter of Dragon, Son of Dragon, Dragon Slayer…

Phantasm, Misty Knight

IC Date:
1 Feb 2012


Brief log summary::
Misty spots an Orsini following a Mike


There is no TS in this log::

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-==[ Chelsea - New York ]==---------

The Chelsea neighborhood takes its name from a single building, now demolished for a century and a half - the birthplace of Clement Clark Moore. Somehow, the artistic element never quite went away - anchored by the presence of the Hotel Chelsea, a residential hotel that's housed artists from Mark Twain to Stanley Kubrick to Jimi Hendrix (and, most notoriously, played host to Sid Vicious's probable stabbing of his girlfriend). These days, Chelsea's back in the center of the New York art scene, as art galleries have started migrating northward from SoHo.

Chelsea is, however, still primarily residential, offering apartments, tenements, and renovated warehouses as housing options. Most of the businesses here cater to the locals.

As midweek hits, many folks are likely feeling the middle of the week drag from their jobs and for Mike, at least for this particular week, there's no exception. Fresh from a late afternoon recording performance on a show that runs late night, Mike is heading back to his apartment. Hair tucked away and dressed down in his usual unassuming Goodwill-esque attire, he does not look the rock star he is supposed to be. There's no point just yet. That's what the next few weeks are for. Why rush it? Steaming cup of coffee in hand, he comes to the stop at the end of a crosswalk, taking the moment he waits for a car to clear the pathway to also sneak a sip of his drink. Augh. Wednesdays.

Misty is coming down out of one of the brownstones, having just had a meeting with a client. She is walking — or maybe strutting is more accurate — with a spring in her step, because this was a good one. A stolen will. An embezzling business partner. Busted. Thanks to her efforts. The court case is going to be a long, drawn out thing. But she did what was asked of her, and has the photos to give the bereaved family not only closure but money to live on.

She glances at her watch as she stops att he same crosswalk, stifling a yawn. Must've been a late night for her as well.

And this is where the don't talk to strangers rule applies right? Yeah, Mike wasn't exactly good on following all the rules either.

The cup tilts forward as Mike completes his sip. A slight, tired smile forming upon his lips as he gives a bit of a nod, "Yeah, you can say that again."

Misty glances sidelong at Mike. "Long night for me. I am not as young as I used to be, and if you tell anyone, I will deny it," she replies playfully to his remark. "Who knew Tuesdays were so full of action?"

Her afro is less fluffy today, as if she'd worn her hair in a different style recently. So she kind of has it drawn back in a scrunchie until it is ready to resume its normal volume.

The smile becomes a bit more impish to the half-assed threat. "Tell anyone what?" Mike's hair is not at it's best either as it is tucked away in the knit cap on his head. "And you're in New York. A city that never sleeps I'm told."

"This's true, sugar," Misty replies with a radiant smile. Tired or not, the night before was fun. "The /city/ never sleeps, but its citizens? We gotta catch our Zs where we can. I shouldn't complain. Haven't danced the merengue like that in /years/." Though she doesn't move with the stiffness one might expect of someone who's out of practice dancing something as energetic as merengue. "And I coulda slept in if I'd wanted. Just not the kinda person to waste daylight, y'know?"

"I know that feeling." Mike replies, giving a bit of a chuckle, "I think even in my dreams I'm probably working." The traffic's pretty much stopped, granting them the opportunity to continue walking across the street. Mike starts across, but his pace is not quick.

"I /know/, right," Misty commisserates with Mike's remark. "So you on your way /to/ or /from/ work?" she asks, ready to be sympathetic for either answer if he's as much of a workaholic as she is. Misty's pace is not necessarily quick, but she is long legged and used to keeping up with Luke Cage, so it might be quick by other people's standards.

Mike doesn't respond quickly as he takes this moment to sip at his coffee again. "Both." He replies matter of factly as the cup lowers again. "My job's not a traditional type."

Misty's brows lift, but her smile remains unfaltered. "I can relate. Gotta work when the work needs doin', no matter what the clock says." She tilts her chin at Mike. "Now you made me want a cup of coffee. C'mon, I'll buy you a danish to go with yours." She picks a hole in the wall joint, rather than one of the omnipresent Starbucks that dot the city. "So, what d'you do that has you both free and busy at this hour?" She realizes the question might sound a bit forward, and elaborates. "Sorry. Tendency to interrogate comes from /my/ line of work." She produces a card and hands it to him. It is black on the front with a single Knight chesspiece. It is unusual in that the horse has wings. The back of the card indicates Nightwing Restorations, and the names M. Knight and C. Wing as private investigators.

Being that she seemed nice enough, he's somewhat aware of the place she chose, and he's not paying for the danish, Mike gives a nod to Misty's offer and soon finds himself transitioning to the shop and finding a good spot to sit, he leans back, glancing around the group within the place curiously. "I'm a musician." Mike offers in explanation, likely a more disappointing answer than Misty might be expecting, "And a lot of what I come up with happens when I'm doing my own thing." He reaches into a pocket to pull out a small notepad. "So, got to always carry one of these."

Misty returns with a giant blondie and a Sumatran, doctored with whipped cream and cinnamon. She has brought a huge danish for Mike as well. "Hope cherry's okay. They were out of apple."

"A musician, cool. What style?"

"Heavy rock." Mike replies, tucking in the notepad, glancing to the Danish, "Cherry is fine. Tastes all the better on someone else's tab." He gives a bit of a chuckle to that. Cheapskate. His eyes look down to the card that was handed to him earlier. "So, a PI, eh?"

"Nice," Misty says, sincerely. She must have diverse and eclectic tastes. With a half-Irish, half-Chinese best friend, you bet she does. "That's the job," she confirms, "And since we haven't had an official consultation or anything," she says, pausing to take a sip of her pricey, fancy coffee, "this one's on the house. I think somebody's tailin' you."

Mike's smile fades, hand moving away from the cherry danish that had been set down before him as he processes the information. He leans back in his seat, giving a hrmm of consideration. He's not happy. But, he's oddly not appearing anything along the lines of afraid. More, annoyed. "Would asking what he looks like cost extra?"

"Not today," Misty replies. She plasters a big smile on her face, as if she were talking to Mike about his music. She gestures animatedly as well, as if it were all /so/ exciting. By contrast, her voice is cool and even as she describes Mike's observer. Height. Approximate Weight. How long since Misty noticed him being followed. Clothing, color, and in what condition. "I could get you more information, but then we'd be gettin' into by the hour material."

As the description gets relayed, Mike's expression seems to gradually become even more and more irate. About the point she mentions the by the hour stuff, he shakes his head, forcing another smile upon his face however this one is quite apparently forced as he's pretty much seething. "That son of a bitch," he mutters, setting the cup down before shaking his head, "I think I know who it is."

"Ooooh, some bad blood between you and somebody?" Misty asks, settling back into her relaxed, slinky pose, and biting into her blondie. "You need a hand gettin' him off your back? Call it a promotional discount, and keep me in mind if you need a bodyguard once your career takes off."

Mike gives Misty a glance before bursting into laughter, seemingly not all that concerned with the man she described earlier now. What an odd odd man.

"… and that would be a 'no thank you, Ms. Knight, I already have made arrangements' then, would it?" asks Misty, peering dubiously through the steam from her cup as Mike laughs. "So this shadow you got — not so much a threat as an irritation."

With that assumption made, Mike shakes his head, "No. No." He works to stifle his laughter before continuing, "It's more of the 'career taking off' bit." He shakes his head, "Just haven't heard that in years." He straightens, "I'm two days away from my next album making its US debut." His smile fades away again, "But, if the one you described is who I think it is, he is a threat to a lot of people. That he seems to keep getting out of jail is the irritation."

Misty seems mollified by the explanation. "Sorry, sugar, don't have as many contacts in the recording business as I do in other facets of the city," she offers by way of sincere apology. "Yeah, you'd think that New York city'd have a better method of incarceration and corrections, but sometimes I feel like our jails are like Gotham city's revolvin' doors of Arkham." She shakes her head. "There are people who run from me on sight because I've put 'em away so many times."

"It's alright, I'm not exactly in my more public of personas anyways." Mike waves off before he goes back to the other topic. He frowns, "Well, since you were to start with the free information, I'll give you this much of a warning. If you come across any cards of dragon slayers near some attack, go find that guy you described. And don't let him within stabbing distance. Name's Giannino Orsini. Seems to get off on that kind of thing."

And now it's Misty's turn to laugh with great hilarity. Her head goes back, and one or two heads turn. "Oh, oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to react like that. It's been more than a couple years since somebody warned /me/ to look out for anybody." She collects herself. "I assure you, I am more than a match for some guy who thinks he's a dragon slayer."

Mike gives a bit of a half smile to the reaction before shrugging, "Well, it was more to tell you where you should look if you come across something like that. Save time and all."

"I'll do a little research on him. So he doing the stalker thing with you? Or are you sure you're not in any danger, at least?" The moment of levity has passed, leaving her serious and concerned — not merely because he's a potential new client. It's pretty obvious that she's just one of those types who likes to keep people safe.

Mike looks over to Misty, "Considering the things we run into each day in New York, he's not THAT high up there on the list of things to worry about." He reaches for his coffee, "Besides, with the way my label is, and the upcoming tour, I'd be surprised if they didn't have someone already watching my place again." Judging from the tone of his voice, he's not all that happy with the prospect. Must be a mood killer with the ladies.

Misty nods. "All right, then," she says, seemingly satisfied. "Keep my number just in case, though. The NYPD is — " she searches a moment for the correct words, "Overworked, in /some/ cases." The darkening of her eyes and the sudden downturn of her lips implies she thinks less positive things about the cases that are /not/ overworked. "If you feel threatened, unsafe, or any of that, give me a call. I can … persuade your dragon slayer that maybe he would rather take up another hobby."

There's a bit of a low, knowing, somewhat bitter chuckle as Misty mentions the police being overworked. He holds up the card Misty gave him in the half introduction, "Right. I'll keep that in mind." Considering he probably has half the roster of the Fantastic Four on speed dial, that might be as far as it goes. But hey, he didn't tell her that, did he?

"If it's not me, there are a handful of people in my employ and acquaintance. So even if your little problem gives /me/ a little problem, I got backup." She glances toward the door. "You gonna need a diversion to ditch your shadow now, or are we needin' to have a confrontation?" she asks, finishing the last bite of her blondie, and follows it with the last swig of her coffee.

Mike shakes his head before nodding towards the back of the cafe, "Nah, this place has a back exit and now that I know Orsini's around I should be able to make note of him and compensate for that better." He reaches over to pick up his untouched Danish. Eh. Might as well bring it along for the ride.

Misty ponders Mike for a long second. "All right then, sugar. As you like." She stands herself. "Nice meetin' you, man." She offers him a handshake that belies a greater strength than she displays outwardly with her energetic movements and big smiles. Apparently she's gifted with facades.

Pale eyes glance down to the hand before Mike gives a bit of a nod, "It's Mike." He finally offers in way of an introduction, before he gets up as well, making his way towards the back exit. The view of his coat shifts as he removes it, exposing a shirt of different coloration. The knit cap is soon removed, dropping his trademark locks but they are soon tucked into the shirt, giving the semblance of a shorter hairstyle. And off he goes. It seems he's had a bit of practice ditching someone before.

And apparently he's gifted with facades as well. So Nyah.

Misty nods. "Well, you take care then," she tells him, and heads back to the counter to get herself another cup. She'll watch the news and listen to the police radio just in case.

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