An Early Morning Walk

Brief Title:
Walk

Characters:
Ambrose, Night Thrasher

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
07/22/12 05:00

Location:
Harlem Neighborhood, NYC

Summary:
Night Thrasher is ending his day, but not before an encounter with an odd fellow in the form of Ambrose.

Social or Plot:

TS:
Yes

Log:
It was Morning. Barely. Very early in the morning as Ambrose walked alone down the street. Though clean, he was scruffy looking. But the early morning peace of this part of the city meant he got no suspicious, fearful looks or phone calls to police. His hands were in his pocket as he strode along the street, eyes darting everywhere constantly. A hand came out, rubbing at the other, and then went back in, his stance nervous. Those eyes darted, spotting an intricately patterned cobblestone sidewalk and ground to a halt.

Ten minutes later, he was still staring at it, only a slight breeze rustling his jacket. Did he blink? It was hard to tell as the man remained mesmerized by this, a tall statue of flesh and blood, frozen to the spot.

Atop one of the high rise apartments here in Harlem stands the Night Thrasher. The armored young man is winding down after a long night. How can one tell it's been a long night? Why, his armor is scuffed up and there's the faint speckle of dried blood around the knuckles of his gauntlet. He stands along the edge of one of the rooftops with his foot up on the slightly raised ledge. His hands are on his hips and he's almost casually looking down towards the street. It's been quiet for hours, thankfully.

Finally, the cold started to get to the incredibly thin man and he shivered, snapping out of it. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together, then pulled out a notepad as he began to walk, the click-click of his shoes echoing through the streets. Suddenly, Ambrose stops again and whirls about, staring up, then down the street... getting a feeling there was someone out here, watching him. Shift, fidget. "... Hello?" he calls, his voice nervous.

Thrasher was moments away from stepping away from the edge of the building and retiring to the New Warriors' Crash Pad, however the call of unsure greeting echoing through the quiet, early morning street was picked up by the audio receivers in his helmet. Thrasher turns his gaze to the side and down and spots the tall, thin as a pole individual. Thrasher ducks past the edge of the building; Did he make a noise that drew attention to him? Can Thrasher not go a whole night without getting that tired? Random person walking the streets of New York isn't unusual. Random individual walking this early in the morning and then randomly shouting out 'Hello' to someone he may or may not have seen? Odd. Thrasher starts down a fire escape.

It was getting quiet, too quiet. And Ambrose was getting more and more anxious. "Damnit. Should have stayed in and got schnookered." he muttered, pulling out his notepad as he started to write numbers on it furiously. After a few moments, he relaxed - a little bit, and looked back up and around again. "Easy now. Nobodys' around except a stray cat. This is Morningside, not Bronx." he straightens, shaking himself off as he started to stride along again, right about to cross the alleyway that Thrasher was descending into.

Night Thrasher gets to the level of the fire escape that's on the second floor, easily within jumping distance to the ground. He spots the 'early riser' move across the entrence of the alleyway. As the man crosses in front of the alleyway, Thrasher activates the telescopic function of the visor of his helmet to zoom in on him. He tilts his head to the side and considers the man as he passes by. He waits for the man to cross before hopping down to the pavement below.

A brief glance down the alleyway... he missed Night Thrasher coming into view by a few moments, but heard a clattering. His pace picked up heavily. The zoom in will show reddened, puffed eyes from lack of sleep, a nervous twitch, and an ever slight wobble of unsteadiness on his long legs. Drunk? Perhaps.

He paused though, thinking he heard something just before passing out of sight, turning to peer back down the street, but not down the alleyway ".. okay, Its either the booze playing tricks on me or I'm about to be require a new pair of pants."

Night Thrasher turns the corner, stopping short of fully rounding it. He looks around the corner towards Ambrose's back. His eyes narrow as he zooms in again to regard the tall, lanky man. He doesn't seem, visually, to be a problem or danger to anyone. He's just some dude taking a walk in Harlem at five in the morning. He decides to go the good samaritan root; He turns the corner and calls out, "Hey Mister." After a slight pause, "Caanan Baptist isn't have its services for another few hours yet, so I assume you're heading on home right?"


Nearly leaping out of his boots, Ambrose grips his coat collar tightly as he turns right about to stare at Night Thrasher a long moment. "... I dont recognise you. " he admits first. Then the question hits his somewhat fuzzy mind "Oh, no, I was out for a long... very long... incredibly long walk." he waves vaguely for once, glancing towards the ever-brightening horizon. "About twelve hou- Oh! I saw you on Television. Night Thrasher! I dont have you in my catalogue yet I'm afraid though." the man apologises, hands dissapearing back into his pockets again once more "Ah, sorry? Did I spook someone?"

Thrasher's initial response is a perplexed raise of his eyebrow. After a moment or two of sizing the tall, thin individual Thrasher says, "Uh, no. Not to my knowledge. I saw you walking." He waves a hand around to indicate the neighborhood, "I know this is New York, but on a Sunday there's nothing open this earlier. You're not dressed like you're out for a run." he pauses and raises his hands out in front of him in an almsot defensive gesture, "I'm just trying to be neighborly, alright? Go about your business, I guess."

"Walk. Not run, walk." corrects the man, lifting a finger pointedly. Then he relaxes "I'm glad to hear I'm not upsetting people. I really dislike getting hass... well, err, wasting polices' time when they could be solving crimes you know." he explains. Then it was his turn to raise an eyebrow "Neighborly? I /do/ appreciate the concern.." slight lean to the left "I mean, that IS what you capes do, right? "

It was at this point that Ambrose notices the dried blood on Night Thrasher. His eyes widen, and he goes three shades paler.

"To an extent." Night Thrasher answers Ambrose's question, "Though you will never see me wearing a cape." He humphs and sort of half-turns to take a step away from Ambrose, "Anyways; I spoke my piece." he raises a hand up and points it towards Ambrose's face, "You're looking a bit... well..." He shrugs, "It may be normal for you. But it's early, so maybe cut your walk short and get some rest somehow, eh?"

"... A bit pale? Yes, Yes I am... " he looks at the blood again, then deliberately closes his eyes "Cutting it short and getting rest will not be easy, admittedly. I live on the other side of the city. But... because you showed concern for me, which I appreciate, I will get rest as soon as I get home." he then offers a weak smile, reopening his eyes again. "And I meant 'cape' using the local slang term for superhero. I meant no offense myself." a pause as he looks Night Thrasher up and down again, and replies "You may need rest soon yourself though."

Thrasher nods, "Yeah, I may need rest soon too. I suppose there's a reason the both of us are in a section of the city that we don't call home so early in the morning. Huh?" He humphs and gestures down the street, "Than perhaps instead of walking home, you should call a cab or hop the bus. There's a bus stop and bench around the corner. It's just outside of Tito's actually."

A little bit of a hmmm, as Ambrose rustles in his pockets "Busses run this early on a Sunday? " he asks, surprised. "Sorry, I only recently moved here. Looking for opportunity..." a grin as he glances to the alleyway Thrasher came out of, showing off incredibly white teeth "... Just around the corner. Heh. Sorry, just a little witty jest there. I think I will be okay to walk a shorter distance. Titos, I know that place from the walk out. They need to change their deep fry oil though. Its starting to go off. you can tell by the smell."

Thrasher turns further, giving Ambrose a side-long look. He nods to him and his randomness, "Uh huh. Yeah, well, think of the oil as added flavor, I guess?" He raises a hand and gives a flick of his wrist as a wave before turning fully to head back towards the alley he emerged from.

A grimace of disgust at the comment, but Ambrose tips his head, watching the man depart. "Night Thrasher, eh? Must remember to add him. " he murmers, taking out his notepad to scribble down a few things.

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