evillurks | Informal visit (For Metody)

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Current Location: Rettigue Apt., Manhattan, NY

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Informal visit (For Metody)

The Shadow is hard at work coordinating things from the Rettigue apartment, today. The break from hunting out Khan's activities in his alternate's world is merely an opportunity to chase criminals in his own. Unavailable to gather forces for multiple raids and without the time to head up those operations himself, he's stuck compiling information and passing it to legal authorities through very careful channels. It's a lot of paperwork, and very tedious, but it gives him a physical rest he needs from his other activities.

When Metody arrives, he's in the most worn spot in the whole place; the center of the black plush sofa, bent over the coffee table. He regards his visitor over the rims of his reading glasses. "You've looked better. Coffee or tea?" The paperwork is shuffled neatly into a folder, out of sight.

The apartment is spacious and spartan, with sleek dark furniture. There's a grouping of the sofa and a few black armchairs around a black metal coffee table, all arranged on a vast Oriental rug. A bookshelf built into the wall opposite the sofa holds a television set that is archaic by Metody's standards, fewer books than one might expect, a sleek stereo system, and in spots of honour a card bearing Chinese calligraphy by Myra and the wrappings and knife Metody sent for Christmas. A floor to ceiling window dominates another wall, but the drapes are only open a crack. Apart from the kitchen doorway and a hall, there's little else to be seen in this room. It has quite a bit of open, empty space and the feel of somewhere that is only sporadically lived in.

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With a nod he deposits his own mug on the table, and goes back to the kitchen. What he brings back is a bag of sugar, and a carton of milk, and he pauses briefly to inspect the expiration date on the latter. Both are set on the coffee table within Metody's reach. He's forgotten to bring a spoon, as well.

"That's part of why you're... mm." He makes a vague gesture to his face. "I'm not good at social things." He is also fairly confident of his own ability to protect himself from spirits by psychic means.

He restrains the impulse to say something like, 'lovely as a flower.' He should not poke at The's discomfort with such things.

" - yes. The chemicals in the paint - dye, really - interacted with the chemicals in the cream, and then they reacted with the chemicals in me."

Metody wouldn't realize it if the milk was expired; his sense of taste was still quite bad. He poured a little milk in, then cautiously tipped in some sugar, then pulled a pocketknife from his pocket, opened a blade, and used that to stir.

"At home, I'm okay if there's a set role for me to play. Otherwise, not so much. Here- er. In the Nexus. It's easier for me, somehow."

It is, in this case, more an attempt at tact than any personal discomfort. He assumes that harping further on Metody's current appearance would be pushing things, but was unsure how to put it more politely.

The description has him wondering how such things would interact with his ever-present disguise, however, so he's just as glad Metody's said it's not necessary.

"I could get you a- nevermind." The Shadow sinks back down on the sofa with his own coffee. The milk should still more or less be good, but since he takes nothing in his own coffee he's out of the habit of serving it properly. "I used to be better at it, when I was playing at Cranston all the time. Now if there's information gathering that requires social charm, I send one agent or another to do it."

"Meh." He's fine with the knife. He wipes the blade off on his pants, folds it up and tucks it away. The coffee is warm and he's sure it's delicious.

"I've gotten better at it as I've gotten older, thank goodness. There was a time when I was afraid to talk to anyone other than my family and my partner. I think part of it is that I'm slowly learning that, taken one by one, people aren't that bad. Usually. And the Nexus has helped." He grins. "When you've just spent the day speaking to rather touchy leather-clad sword-bearing warrior, suddenly the cute girl at the grocery store just isn't that intimidating."

The milk may be getting close, but one can always be sure The Shadow keeps good coffee on hand.

One eyebrow quirks slightly, and while it's not precisely a smile, something of mild amusement softens his impassive features. "That makes sense. I'm not intimidated by anyone, I just... tend to operate on a different level, I think. The average perspective is too far from my own. I do appreciate that the average perspective in the Nexus is more varied than in my own world, at least." This isn't quite the direction he anticipated the conversation going in, but as long as things are interesting he seems content. Metody is making more sense in person than he was in his earlier missives.

He laughs. "Oh, oh, boy, is it ever. It is liberating."

Metody takes another sip of his coffee, relaxing a little bit. In this case, the time difference has certainly worked in his favor - it gave him time to quiet his clattering mind.

"It's kind of funny, though. I've never felt so human as after I've been in the Nexus, talking to people who aren't. I suppose it's a matter of contrast."

"It alters the standard of normal." He shrugs, but after spending much of his life feeling very much an outsider to the human perspective, he can empathize with Metody's statement. Empathy is a very rare sensation for him.

He laughs happily. "Yes. And I think it helps to see so many different views on what qualifies as human. Back home, too much divergence gets clipped off, but in other worlds, they have magic users wandering around freely, and people like you, and mutants and cyborgs and things. It's amazing. And very comforting."

"I'm very curious to know what you mean by 'people like me'." The Shadow shifts to rest an elbow on the arm of the couch, knuckles against his jaw. It is a casual, Cranston sort of pose, and it carries an air of friendly amusement. "It's fascinating, I don't know about comforting."

"You - " He waves his hands in the air in a manner meant to be illustrative. It doesn't work so well. " - stand in the shadows and talk to people and scare the holy crap out of them, from what I understand. You've mentioned you meditate, and I know in some worlds, the yous have mental powers. That would be - that would be a bad thing at home, unless you worked for the government. But you don't. That's nice."

One eyebrow quirks as Metody's hands wave erratically through the air. He makes a very entertaining distraction from work, and The Shadow is glad to see him being marginally more coherent. "I do that. Throwing them off with Judo or shooting them tends to have more effect than just talking, sometimes." Even in his old age, The Shadow is a more physical fighter than Metody seems to be giving him credit for, at least at the moment. All of that old bone damage was probably telling, though. Even now he's a little bruised and stiff from more recent work, although he hasn't broken anything since that last incident Metody was present for.

The psychic powers are not even addressed, an unspoken sidestep that will be left to the young man's imagination unless he chooses to pry. "I don't trust the government as much as I used to, and I've never taken orders well."

"Only on the stupid people. I've found that, when dealing with the more thoughtful kind of person, hinting at things and talking works much, much better than hitting them."

Metody was under the impression the Shadow hid in the shadows talking, and got in a violent fight with anything that actually got near him, and was starting to get the worse of it as age crept in and guns became so much more common. It explained the physical damage, and it explained his reputation as some kind of ghost.

"The government back home is very trustworthy, if you're a human and not at all involved in the supernatural beyond the normal stuff. I guess I can sort of understand their stance because supernatural things can be so dangerous, but still - you know. Laws don't seem so just when you're on the short end of them. That's why I like the no laws in the Nexus."

"The more thoughtful kind of people aren't the sort I deal with as often. I talk with the people willing to listen, though." He gives a nod, and sips at his coffee thoughtfully. The Shadow does not fling himself into a fight without a reason, but he finds reasons often enough, and his stance is considerably more aggressive than Metody seems to think. He has not uttered the term 'semi-retired' for quite some time now, as he is unquestionably back into flinging himself into work every waking moment.

"It might be better to be an unknown quantity. The government only makes laws against activities it's aware of." His world has no laws around psychic activities, since such things supposedly exist only in fiction.

"Perhaps it's because I mostly focus on scaring the crap out of people. The less thoughtful guys are usually right there on the front line, being too busy attacking to think."

Though he could deal fairly well with those people too.

"Oh, we have laws against that as well - 'magics, sciences, powers or other methods of affecting people, animals, insects, machines, inanimate objects or as-yet-unknown items or concepts that do not fully adhere to the systems of science or magic currently covered' are strictly outlawed, except in the case of government sponsored or monitored laboratories. Um. Though I may be slightly misquoting."

"The important criminals are the thinking ones, but I usually have to go through a lot of witless thugs before I get to the top of things." He shrugs and breathes in the steam from his coffee.

Metody's description of the legal approach on his world leaves The Shadow frowning. Certainly much of what he does would be illegal under their laws, and possibly he himself would be considered a criminal in the same sense that Metody is. It gives one a different perspective when they're rendered a criminal simply by existing. "It may not be the wisest tactic to outright render anything unknown illegal. I get the general idea, though."

"We're well past the ages when you could push back the boundaries of science with a good chemistry set - and really, there has never been a time when vast discoveries could be made by the unfunded. Discovery has always been made by men with full bellies."

He looks down, mildly surprised to find a mug of coffee in his hand. With cream in it to boot. Metody sips, sighing a little.

"At least - scientific discovery. And the less damaging kinds of magic. The dangerous stuff, all you need is one person and a lot of crazy."

When Metody finishes that mug, it will likely even be refilled. The Shadow is a firm believer in coffee. His schedule tends to demand it.

"Unfunded men who are determined enough to make trouble usually find a way to fund themselves. It's amazing what some people will set aside a basic moral code for." He watches Metody and notes his distracted state, but the conversation is an interesting one. "You're not a vigilante, yet you seem to have a fair amount of insight about the job..."

"People can always make trouble..." he muttered, staring down into his coffee. He swirled the mug and watched it wash around and around and around.

Metody shrugs. Probably, he should not voice the opinion that one criminal was a lot like another.

"Vigilantes - I mean, the kind like you. You've got a secret life, don't you? There's your job, and then there's the public face, and maybe somewhere in the middle, if there's a bit of space, there's you, maybe . That's not entirely different from the situation I'm in, back home. I've got my secret life, too."

He grimaces a little and takes a sip of his coffee.

"And always will." He agrees without rancour, still studying Metody absently. The young man looks as though he's not quite all there, at the moment.

At the description of vigilantes and their split identities, he rubs his chin thoughtfully. "That's true in most cases I'm familiar with. I don't. I am my work. I've never held with carrying on some second life, beyond using an alias to carry out the daily necessities. That's all James Rettigue is, although I've had to forge documentation to bring him into existence." When he introduces himself as The Shadow, he means it.

"That sounds...kind of nice." But he frowns at the coffee, worried without any true focus. "Not worrying about a second life. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better to not talk to my loved ones than lie to them all the time. It seems....sort of a protracted cruelty."

He drained the last of his coffee, then frowned at the empty mug.

"I guess sooner or later it won't - I'm sorry, I'm being maudlin. It irritates me, having to pretend."

"Then why do you?" This comes from a man who turned his back on everyone he knew at the age of nineteen. He hasn't looked back since.

The Shadow tosses back the last of his coffee in a gulp, and rises from his seat with a quiet creak of one knee. It is not arthritis, but there remains a certain worn-down aspect to his joints, and long cold nights have been aggravating things. "More coffee?" He holds out a hand for the mug. "I don't mind. Myra's accused me of that more than once."

"I love my family. They're....good people. They're what made me who I am. Giving them up, I think it's going to rip me in two. It's going to be like giving up myself. Or my humanity, really." He hands over the mug. Metody rarely turns down coffee.

"I have trouble imagining you being maudlin."

He takes the mug, looking thoughtful. "Hm. I guess I was lucky there." Whatever family he left behind, he left them for a reason.

The Shadow speaks over his shoulder as he goes to refill both mugs, checking the pot first to make sure it's still hot. "She doesn't like it when I bring up preparations for when I'm gone. It's nothing new, I've been aware since I started this work that I could always be taken out by a bullet tomorrow, and I'm not getting any younger... I never even expected to last this long." His tone is not maudlin, even if the subject matter itself is unsettling.

"That's just.....prudent. Wise. The future always looms up, and it's best to face it before it crashes over you." He closes his eyes, hunching over a little with a sigh.

"I've prepared for it, too. Wish I had a better idea. Not preparing doesn't delay it or hold it back. Just makes things harder for everyone who trails you."

"Exactly. I don't think she sees it that way." He presses the refilled mug back into Metody's hands, and the milk and sugar remains within reach on the coffee table.

"Has she accused you of being morbid too, or have you not made mention of that in front of her?" He studies the young man's expressive pose as he sinks back into his seat, but any sympathy is mild in that impassive face.

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