Scenario Entitled: Scene Of The Crime, RevisitedCharacters:
Jeremy, cyber-doc, recovering from assault and seeking reparation.
Damion, gun-slinger, refusing reparation.
Hiro, new guy, and Damion-supporter.
Marayla Dimeglio, slumming rich widow, and Jeremy-supporter... sort of.
Maxim, west-side bar-owner, and minding his own business... sort of.
Location: Freedom Way and Lazlo Avenue
Date: It is Moon Day, Marron 5th, 107 P.A.
Damion walks slowly out into the street, he adjusts his hat and looks around slowly. With a grin he nods at Jeremy "Howdy mano, you ain't real bright are you?"
Jeremy leans against the wall near the Succubus...gazing meditatively at the spot where he'd fallen all those weeks ago. "I'd beg to differ," he murmurs distractedly, then adds, "Unless...you mean by not wearing armour. Then, you'd probably be right." He gives a faint, wry smile. "Take your shot. Might as well. Solve two people's problems, at the very least."
Damion laughs, "Not at all what I meant mano, I have no problems. You might though if you insist on this idiocy of a courtroom drama. You stand to do more time than I do if it gets that far Doc, you're the one who used a weapon after all"
Jeremy snorts quietly, still gazing silently at the pavement. "Bullshit," he whispers. "You /are/ a fucking weapon. Think about it. I'm bone surrounded by flesh. You're a monster. I used...what...a medical implement? A minor sleep agent? Pshaw. Don't be foolish, man. Your bluffs don't work with me -- this certainly isn't your home. It's more mine, I fear." His voice is cold and distant, located far off, somewhere...somewhen else.
Damion laughs, "You say so mano, but I had a hole in my belly after the fight and you had nothing but bruises from my fists. Weaponry is weaponry Doc, and your needle thing is quite effective as offensive armament. Drop your charges mano, or I'll file my own" He allows himself a small smile, "Besides, attempted murder won't ever stick. If I wanted you dead you'd be dead, period and we both know it. Mind probes will prove my total lack of murderous intent and thus I will be aquited fully. Better to take it like a man Doc, more people will respect you for it than for squalling like a baby after getting your whipping"
Jeremy murmurs softly, jaw setting nobly, "Fractured jaw, broken rib, severe damage, both nerve and muscular to my right arm. Pain more than you can imagine -- I almost died on that table, you know." He snorts softly, then adds, "The charges will stick. Attempted murder might not, but the assault one will. Then...what are you...a repeat offender? Regardless, it stands not well for you. Nay, sir." His voice stays at an even plane, though his lips often seem to twitch a bit, "I recommend /you/ stand down. Save yourself while you can, hrm?" He lets out a slow breath through his nostrils, one hand coming up to twitchily adjust his sunglasses.
Damion laughs, "Not even close mano, no charges have ever been filed against me before now... check the -official- records at your leisure. Assault and battery isn't a real charge, not with your provoking me and all. You can't provoke something then cry foul when you come out with the dirty end mano. You lose if it goes forward, any way you cut it J. Hawthorne loses the respect of the people. You'd be better off to hire somebody to teach me not to mess with you or something, at least then you'd have some respect remaining"
Hiro enters calmly, seemingly looking for something.
Jeremy leans back faintly against the wall, murmuring absently, "Bullshit. Get out of here, Damion. Just...walk...away," he speaks, his voice soft with a hint of a catch. Something trembles behind it -- it's hard to tell if it's anger or sorrow. "Get...out," he adds, starting to turn to go.
Hiro stops suddenly. "Bad time?" he asks sincerely.
Damion laughs again, "I just wanted to give you fair notice that you don't have a case at all and you could be embarassing yourself by pursuing this crap, and fair warning that you could end up being worse off if I decide to counter-file charges against you" He glances at Hiro and smiles, "Not at all Hiro, you met Jeremy didn't you?"
Hiro nods slowly. "Earlier today," he says casually. "And yesterday," he adds equally as casual.
Damion nods and smiles, "Then I guess I don't need to introduce you to him do I?"
Hiro shakes his head. "I don't think so." He turns to Jeremy and extends a hand. "Hiro Jubei Tsujimoto."
Jeremy looks over his shoulder slowly, remarking absently, "Delighted, I'm sure...Doctor Jeremy Hawthorne the Third, yadda yadda, blah, blah..." He looks back at Damion, and adds a soft, "Save yourself the disgrace, friend. You broke me -- if you continue this tomfoolery, you'll break yourself. Look at the justice code of Tolkeen. It's...harsh. Steely. They won't care about semantics. They'll care that you nearly killed me in cold blood with little to no provocation." He snorts, then adds, "...besides, cowpoke, I hardly though it was like you to dick around with words." He shakes his head quietly. "The Seat has changed you, Defender." He gives a throaty chuckle as he continues on his journey Away.
Damion nods, "It has my friend, the old me would have vaporized you in the Succubus weeks earlier. You should be grateful for your life instead of pissing and moaning about a little pain."
Hiro looks sort of disgustedly at Jeremy. He jams his hand into his pocket.
Damion shrugs, "You'll do as you like of course, all to impress Rooke even if it costs you the final vestiges of self-respect that remain to you"
Hiro opens his mouth to start saying something, but then reluctantly backs off.
Jeremy just smirks. "Oh, do forgive me," he speaks, his voice wry and savagely amused, "Yes...forgive me for that. Why...what was I thinking!?" He continues to leisurely stroll away, arms flying upwards. "You could have killed me...but instead...you practically maimed me! Hah! Ahhh...yes, yes! That's right, oh, /thank you/, Damion. /Thank you/ for breaking a rib, fracturing my jaw, and nearly destroying my arm. Oh, Damion, you're my /idol/...mmm..." He snorts once more, continuing northwards at his leisurely pace. "Rooke has naught to do with it. I haven't spoken to her in weeks..."
Damion laughs "You're welcome Doc, have a nice life and please remember that you brought this upon yourself mano... just as you'll bring 'justice' upon yourself by chasing clouds in court"
Hiro plants himself in place. He doesn't hold back this time. "You, Doctor," he speaks, rapidly becoming excited and raising his voice, "are an honorless dog!" With that he curses brutally in Japanese.
Damion looks at Hiro and laughs again, "Save it Hiro, it's not worth the effort. He's desperate and afraid and totally unreasonable."
Jeremy rolls his eyes...then turns his head sharply. "What...what did you say?" Those same eyes narrow. Cold hatred spills out as his thin jaw opens, the words flowing off sparkling, bleached teeth. "I'm the dog...yes. Honorless. Mmm. A coward...yet...you can't even say the rest of it to me in my own language." A wry smile twists his lips -- a thin hand luxuriously comes up to adjust his sunglasses. "Afraid? Perhaps not. But beware, sir, of hedging yourself in. Beware of it. Beware, as well, of following blindly...as you must be, if you hate me this much for no reason. Think of this, sir. Damion's calling is murder. My own is life-saving. My...quirks and eccentricities aside...who is the better man? Who benefits society more?" His lips curl upwards slowly, peeling away from his nicely set teeth. "Ponder that one, sir." He begins walking backwards slowly, hands setting back into trenchcoat pockets.
Damion's voice goes cold "You were grateful enough during the war Doc, we killers and murderers were the greatest of heroes then but you choose to forget that part don't you. You can't handle that killers have just as much place in society as healers. I wonder why..."
Hiro's eyes become even more narrow then they naturally are. "Life saving, you say? Then what is this I hear from Steve that you abandoned a woman when she was in need? And the honorless snake does not benefit society, but poisons it with its slithering presence. You, Doctor, are a disgrace to this town!"
Damion steps to the side of the street and watches this new development, "Careful Doc, he has that warrior attitude and you might get your ass kicked again. You sure you're up for that so soon?"
Hiro still snarls at Jeremy. "You dare call yourself a doctor... you are a selfish and honorless disgrace! You are like the lowly locust that plagues a farm! You are the pitiful fodder of the cow! You are the offspring of the serpent! You are unworthy and childish, and you should be exiled, not from Tolkeen, but from life!"
Jeremy looks up smoothly at Damion, eyes narrowing absently. "During a war, yes. I killed as well, that's true...true enough. But there's a time -- from what I understand, you busy yourself with homicide for amusement, back where you're from. A gunslinger, isn't it? Mmm." His eyes then sort of...leisurely meander back to Hiro. He stops walking backwards once more, just standing where he is for a moment. "Hardly fair...listening to Steve, I mean. He wasn't even /there/. I never claimed to be a warrior -- when I left, I passed out. My meager frame had been much abused. It was only the tender handling of one of the area's residents that roused me. I did what I could. I saved Marayla. I stopped Nethial...mmm...but you people all love to forget that, don't you? Mmm...nothing but evil in Hawthorne..." His voice saddens some, eyes drifting morosely to the pavement. "Yes... well... think... what you may." He looks back up once more. "Come, if you must," he wearily states, "Exile me. Back up your threats. I'd prefer you didn't. Death may be something I'm waiting patiently for, but it's certainly not something I embrace."
Damion is leaning against a wall watching Hiro and Jeremy exchange heated words, Damion seems quite amused by this. Hiro stands facing Doc, and spitting insults and occasionally swearing in Japanese.
Hiro's snarl turns into a devilish grin. "You exchange insults like a child."
Jeremy's words aren't actually heated. He's full of hatred alright -- but it's cold. His words stay, more or less, on an even plane. Occasionally, the heat rises, there's a catch, a break in his voice. It's obvious he's angry -- but it's also obvious that he doesn't care to show it. Still, the anxious clenching of his fists says enough. He wearily rolls his head back once more, softly questioning the heavens with unspoken words. His gaze then moves back to Hiro behind his shades, "I'm not /exchanging/ insults, my good man. You /miss/ the point."
Marayla DiMeglio isn't arriving on foot. Heavens no. She's being driven, in a flashy cherry-apple red sports vehicle, the top folded down. At the sight of Jeremy, she leans forward to murmur to the driver, who then changes course to head towards the confrontation.
Hiro points at Jeremy, "Those close to death would not seek revenge for something they brought upon themselves."
Damion chuckles softly, "Now I see why Rooke watched the fight with such humor that night, this -is- entertaining in an offbeat way"
In steps Maxim, along the north side of Lazlo Avenue, his face inclined upwards and to the sides, not so very familiar a look for him, for those who know him. Then again, since none present do, there's actually nothing amiss. He slows to a halt near the corner of the intersection, benign smile fading as he looks to where most of the other passerby are, some sort of altercation several yards off. Hrrm.
Hiro closes his eyes and looks away. "You are a demon, sir. Your presence makes women go sterile and children run in terror."
Damion takes a cigar from his duster pocket and lights it with a long match struck against his belt.
Jeremy watches Hiro with that same steady nonchalance to his bandaged face, a more uneasy state to the rest of him. "I didn't say I was close to /it/. It may be close to me, but as I've said, I'm in no hurry." As Hiro looks away...Jeremy manages an awful laugh. It's not pleasant...it's dark, it's wrenching, it's somewhat vile. Choking, worrysome ejaculations of sound and air. But it's deeply amused. There...may be something to that 'demon' bit after all.
Hiro turns back to face Jeremy and opens his eyes. "I should strike you dead, but will not, in respect for the good people of this town and for Damion, who should have the honor himself."
The car pulls up, stopping on a dime with Marayla in line-of-sight of Jeremy. She leans over to rest her elbows on the door, considering him with a faintly arched brow.
Maxim strolls across the street and closer as the spit flies. His eyebrow is cocked in such a way as to prelude some assuredly witty comment, although he doesn't say anything just yet. His smile is cooled down to a barely curved line as he slips one hand from his slacks pocket and reaches up to rub thoughtfully at his chin.
Hiro shakes his head in utter disgust. He sighs audibly. "I need not Damion nor Steve's reason to dislike you, Doctor, for I now have my own. You show no respect for anyone but yourself. You bring dishonor to your profession, and to the city of Tolkeen. May the Kami give you a long and painful death."
Damion shakes his head, "I don't think so, he deserves his miserable life Hiro. That's one reason I -chose- not to kill the sucker." He winks at Jeremy "Murderer that I am of course"
Jeremy manages, through his loud, raucous, echoing laughter, "Coward! Pshaw...what delightfully skillful meandering! Why...why, you have no reason to...to hate me!" He takes a breath, laughter dissolving into light chuckles, "...you're...much like me! Too much like me...ooo. Perhaps that's why you dislike me so much." He pauses, then adds, "Well..perhaps with less honour. A bit less class and style, as well. But...yes...much like me." He leans in, grinning a horrible grin with those same perfect teeth, eyes hidden. "Care to come with me, after? I'll buy you a drink..."
Hiro looks horrified. "Too much like you?!" he shouts. "With less honor? You have no class, and certainly no style! You are... are.... argh!" With the last shout of frustration, he turns away. He turns quickly back to say something in Japanese, but then turns again and walks away.
Marayla DiMeglio's voice drifts out, "My dear, I believe you promised me that drink, just a little while ago." There's just the faintest note of chastisement in the words.
Jeremy catches sight of Marayla...then grins once more, rather pleasantly. He absently walks his way towards the woman's car. A trembling hand with bloody indents in the palm is raised towards Hiro. "Sounds fair...yes...do take care! Do take care! See you in a few days...what do us people drink, anyways? Cowards, I mean?" He turns back to Marayla, offering her a more pleasant, human smile.
Damion stands from the wall, "Hiro, back off." He looks at Jeremy with a smile "I think you were going someplace Doc? I suggest you head out before this goes to far. Entertaining as it is Hiro's getting upset and that means somebody could get hurt... again"
Jeremy speaks a softer, more whispered, "Putting on the evil Doctor routine -- the new kids love it." His voice trembles dangerously, the other hand adjusts his trenchcoat front awkwardly. Hardly a front. "Might I?" He gestures inside, making it quite clear to Damion that...well...he's just not listening, damn it.
Hiro turns back to face the Doc. "Yes, we shall meet again. And pray, doctor, to whatever gods you believe in, that I do not kill you next time in the name of honor."
Maxim pauses as he notices Marayla's fabulous vehicle, and that her intent seems to be to rescue the doctor. Ah well... women should get to be the conquering hero once and a while. Besides.. he's really not a man's kind of man. Without a word, Maxim steps right by Jeremy (oh, the team they could have made!) and wanders off towards a nearby doorway, to slouch like a thief in.
Marayla DiMeglio sighs faintly, and opens the door. She notes gently, "Come on then, my dear." Fond annoyance colors the words. Damion gets a polite, "Councilman, good evening," then Hiro a nod.
Damion tips his hat politely "Evenin' ma'am. Enjoy your drink"
Hiro shakes his head, again in disgust.
Jeremy turns his head and replies more gently, "Yes, yes, yes...of course, honour, all that. People like us...we don't need to make appearances for each other -- but I understand. The others." He chuckles a bit, then slips into the car. "Thank you, my dear." He turns towards her with that same trembly, awkward, 'about to tear the apolstery apart' smile.
Hiro directs a comment in Japanese to Marayla.
Marayla DiMeglio arches an eyebrow at the man, and asks in far too gentle a tone, "If you would be so kind as to speak a language I understand, sir?" Chastisement there, too, though again only the faintest note.
Damion fires a small pistol into the air, "Stifle it Hiro"
Jeremy leans into Marayla, speaking softly, "Save it. He's a coward like me. He just disguises his cowardice behind foreign words, whereas I use the cunning sort. Oh...how does it feel to be consort to a demon?"
Ignoring Damion, Hiro says, "I'm sorry, madam, but the words I spoke were not for a woman's ears, thus, I will use my native tongue."
"Coward?" Hiro shouts, "Coward?? You dare call *me* a coward! And yet I stand here, prepared to fight, while you hide in a car! Come and fight, you cripple!"
Damion steps forward to the car and speaks as he walks, "Madam, would you please remove the Doc for me, I wouldn't want anybody to get hurt tonight"
Hiro takes a step towards the car.
Jeremy turns out the window, replying calmly, "I don't want a fight." He pulls the sunglasses off sharply, revealing clear green eyes which he focuses on Hiro. They blink explosively, tears welling towards them as he brings up a hand to protect himself, apparently, from the light. "I don't need a fight. Not another. Not with you. Do us both a favor. Walk away." He continues to stare like that, until the car pulls away.
Marayla DiMeglio pats Jeremy's shoulder absently, "Dear, do be silent. And don't bleed on my car, the cleaning is terribly difficult." She returns attention to Hiro, and grants him a nod. "It's really very kind of you to save my innocent ears, sir." She murmurs something driver-wards, and the car does indeed pull away.
Hiro stomps his foot hard. His face, usually unangered, is now thoroughly pissed-off looking. He reaches for his belt, but stops himself.
Damion says "Hiro, don't do it mano... fair warning given"
Hiro turns to Damion, still angry. "He insults me and my family by calling me a coward and dishonorable."
Maxim regains a disturbingly cheerful demeanor and finds a good spot in the doorway to nudge his shoulder. "Fascinating," he chuckles, none too softly. "Do all the Council get their own personal human lapdogs, or is it simply the fashion of the times?"
Hiro whirls around to face Maxim. "What did you say?" he asks angrily.
Damion nods, "I know, but I haven't been aquited yet so I can't propose a change in the laws. Provocation isn't fully recognized as justification for violence yet." He turns to regard Maxim curiously "We get all sorts of things, including the privilege of being charged with a crime that goes on daily without comment... but those are the percs that make the job worth having"
Hiro suddenly composes himself, and is calm again. "You choose wrong moments to speak up, sir," he says softly.
Maxim raises both eyebrows in disarming joviality and lifts his shoulders in a negligent display of mock startlement. "Just a keen observation, my easily-aroused little man. And why not make the comment as it comes to mind? I must admit, I find your expertise at that sort of thing... /ad/mirable." He glances to the side at Damion. "Mmm, hrrm. Good to know, Mister Blane."
"I have no fight with you. And, I have a name, and you are permitted to use it. I may be small, but I bet I could kick your ass," Hiro says, smiling slightly.
Damion chuckles, "The old council recognized it of course, but like so many other things they neglected to write it down. Pity really, but since I really face nothing more than a bit of public service... I don't worry" He looks sharply at Hiro then laughs, "Hiro, Doc's gone. No need for hostility with" he gestures at Maxim "him"
Damion extends his hand to Maxim, "I don't remember having the priviledge, I'm pretty obviously Damion Blane"
Hiro darts a look towards Damion, but still faces Maxim. "He insults me, too."
Maxim crosses his arms across his stomach, resting his hands flat along the tops of his forearms. "Oh, undoubtably... Hero, was it? If you don't feel quite good enough about yourself without letting me know what an absolutely daring man of action you are, by /all/ means. Perhaps you'd even like to..." he straightens up dramatically, clenching his teeth in a parody of fierceness, "/shake/ a clenched fist at me! I think that might shut me up." He slouches back down after a moment, and returns his gaze to Damion, curiously.
Damion shakes his head, "No Hiro, he -described you. You are in fact small and easily angered. No insult in the truth is there?" He smiles at Maxim with his hand still extended.
Hiro's mouth bows into a frown. "He called me a lapdog."
Maxim looks at Damion's hand quizzically, then puts out his own thinly gloved hand into the Councilman's. "Maxim. I own a drinking tavern in the western end..." He cocks an eyebrow at Hiro, and nods. "So I did. But you see, I'm now acquainted in a friendly manner with your... lap?" The left corner of his mouth quirks, as he considers his word usage. "So it's all right, you can be friendly too."
Hiro shakes his head. "I'm not a friend of those who would insult me. I am not a lapdog."
Damion chuckles with a sound much like gravel, "Tap & Barrel or some other? Living here gives me little need to visit many other establishments" He smiles, "However I think I should correct that short-coming in the future... with proper invitation of course"
Maxim bows his head slightly to Hiro, acknowledging the man's anger. "Very well. You are not a lapdog. Please excuse me, for my fault is to quickly label a man by observing his behavior. Damned annoying, eh?" he ends his 'apology' to Hiro with a sharply edged shift oh his lower jaw, then he finishes shaking Damion's hand and withdraws. "Oh... dear god, no, Councilman. The Fallen Angel is no place for a man of your standards. I mean," he gestures towards The Succubus. "I can hardly begin to describe the differences between the two establishments."
Damion laughs, "Meaning you run a nice -quiet- tavern and don't want my kind of trouble wandering in and screwing things up eh?"
Hiro sighs. "Your tongue is poisoned, sir... what was your name again? I don't think I caught it. And you trick yourself into believing that just because I'm smaller, I'm less of a man, and that I do not deserve respect. You would be surprised." He folds his arms across his chest.
Marayla DiMeglio and her pretty car come down the street again, sans Jeremy. My-oh-my that car /screams/ money.
Hiro holds up his hand, palm facing Maxim. "Please, don't respond. I'd prefer to not hear your words of disrespect. Now, if you two don't mind," he turns to see Marayla pull up, "nor you, madam, I have things I must do."
Maxim starts to laugh almost as soon as Damion does, in high amusement, eyes widening then crinkling around the edges. "Yes yes, something of that sort," he agrees with grating sincerity. "I hardly dare to enter The Succubus; do you know, there are wild rumors of it being the nefarious hang-out of pregnant women and sugar addicts? Frightful, sir.... ah..." he shifts his gaze to Hiro, staring. "Are you still talking...?" Total bewilderment.
Damion holds his hands up and steps back, "Hiro, Max has apologized for saying what he did and now you're pushing him. You can't do that mano, but if you insist I'm out of this one... just be careful that you don't bite off more than you can handle." He glances at Maxim then again at Hiro before speaking 'between' the men, "I mean that as a warning to both of you"
Marayla DiMeglio steps out of the car, hands brushing imaginary dirt from her clothes. The car itself is driven down into the garage of the Succubus.
Hiro turns and bows in Japanese fashion to Damion. "Good day, Damion."
Damion sighs and nods, "Have a good one Hiro" He adds, "Hello again Marayla, you lost Doc that quickly?" He winks, "I think that may be a record of sorts"
Marayla DiMeglio tsks softly, "Councilman, the gentleman is a... friend." Faint amusement colors her voice. "I put him to bed to sleep off whatever it is that's bothering him."
Maxim hmms quietly at the no-response from Damion, then glances to the side to watch Hiro take his leave. "You can't seriously believe I'd lift a finger against that dear little boy? Perhaps after he's achieved that mysterious rite of passage some call Maturity.." he ends in a mutter, and starts to slouch back into the doorway, eyes shifting to regard Marayla.
Damion nods, "I know he's your friend, he was once mine as well. I wish you luck in solving whatever problem he has before he gets himself killed by provoking somebody less respectful of life than I am" His mouth curls into a small, sardonic smile "Or as gentle" He chuckles lightly at Maxim, "As far as I'm concerned he's old enough to take responsibility for his own actions so he'd better be man enough to deal with the consequences too. He'll learn, if he lives"
Marayla DiMeglio lifts a hand in a small gesture of dismissal, "A shame the beating you gave him didn't cure it." She turns to face the other man here, a hand extending to him. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, sir?"
Hiro steps away calmly, hands in his pockets, and walks over to the side wall of the Succubus. He leans casually against it.
Maxim inclines his head downwards enough to be looking towards Marayla just past his lowering eyelids, almost through. He reaches out to capture her own hand in a genteel fashion, palm up and fingertips gentle along her inner wrist. "Not precisely. We've met before, but the glance was so passing, I'm not surprised you don't recall."
Damion shrugs, "It was payment in full for spitting on me and provoking me at the time. I hold no further grudge but if I must destroy him to preserve myself then so be it. I don't really want to file counter-charges against the poor man but I will... and they'll stick much better than his own charges will I think"
Hiro pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and searches for a match, finding a matchbox. He holds it to his ear and shakes it. Hearing no match, he jams it back into his pocket.
Marayla DiMeglio allows her hand to linger, just long enough for an interesting stranger, for those who know how to read such things. "Marayla DiMeglio." Then she's retrieving it, "I'm terribly disappointed in myself then for forgetting so... distinctive, a face."
Damion glances at Hiro a moment then tosses a box toward him offhanded, "Here you go mano, no need to go wanting for a match"
Hiro catches the box and retrieves a match from it.
Maxim lowers his own hand after hers is well away. "Maximillan Corsuca," he returns with a nod, and straightens up his posture a little more, in deference to the mixed company. Oooh, a gentleman, deary me.
Hiro closes the box. "Want it back?" he asks Damion.
Damion shakes his head, "Keep 'em, I have more"
Hiro nods in return.
Marayla DiMeglio has that effect on people. Strange. Maybe it's the perfume. She gives him a smile, "A true pleasure to meet you, Mr. Corsuca... or rather, meet you again."
Hiro sticks the box in his pocket. He strikes the match against the wall, igniting it, and lights his cigarette, and shakes the match out. He surveys the formal scene before him with amusement.
Damion takes a long drag on his cigar "Now that we're all aquainted, let's find something to entertain ourselves before I die from boredom"
Marayla DiMeglio turns a bit to murmur, "Imagine the charges if we allowed that to happen, Councilman." She dips her head in a nod, "Do lead the way."
Hiro takes a puff from his cigarette, drawing the smoke into his lungs and then slowly releasing it.
Damion laughs, "I was asking you folks, I hate just standing around in the street" he looks each direction with exagerrated care "and you can never tell when some jack-assed gang might decide to take a futile crack at me
Marayla DiMeglio murmurs, amusement touching her voice, "And what a shame that would be..." She adds, a faint note of teasing joining in, the genteel kind, "After all, I only recently had this suit cleaned."
Maxim lifts his eyebrows and remains where he is. "As it's not common for me at all to meet so many amicable individuals at once, I find myself rather content for the time being with idle chatter." At Damion's comment, he permits a sublime smile and lowers his head a little. "Very good point, I suppose. What confidence, I'm quite overwhelmed."
Hiro takes another drag. "Well," he says, standing up now, "I must be on my way." He turns to Marayla, and bows, not Japanese, but formally. He smiles a faked happiness at her. "Good night, madam. Your car was very excellent, I should hope that none of the pregnant women or sugar addicts," he adds, directing a look at Maxim, "should ruin it."
Damion shrugs, "Confidence is what comes with..." he looks at Hiro strangely and shakes his head slowly in dismay "Oi vey"
Hiro tosses his cigarette to the ground, crushes it out, and departs.
Marayla DiMeglio notes idly, "That boy is looking to be smacked around by someone," to Hiro's departing back. Then she's returning attention to Damion, "Well then, my dear.. have you any suggestions on how to amuse ourselves?"
Maxim looks up slowly with an expression of bemusement. "Ahm... sacrilege. What in god's name do you suppose he was on about? Are you certain you should have let that fellow keep a whole box of matches, Damion?" he asks keenly, staring after Hiro.
Damion shrugs, "Not a clue, when I'm alone I take walks in the wilderness or through gang territories. I don't think it'd be a good idea for us" his finger indicates the small group "to take those walks...." He smiles slightly, "If he starts any fires it's on him, I can't afford to worry about improbable details like that"
Marayla DiMeglio brings a hand up to touch her chest where her heart would be (if she had one, terrible slave trader that she is), "I might stub my toe if I walked, Councilman." Mock chastisement threads through her voice. "Anything more than a few feet is beyond me."
Damion says "I won't disagree with you Marayla, but I may not believe you either" He looks down at the lady's shoes "I do however think that any limitations on your walking are self-imposed"
Maxim seems to find Damion endlessly fascinating... that, or just terribly amusing. He watches the man silently as he speaks, then smiles cautiously. "Pardon me, Marayla.. Damion. But I'm afraid I'm rather dry of ideas that would serve to amuse such a trio as ourselves... oh," he waves a hand slightly, "you couldn't tell by looking at us.." With a droll wink he explains, "I mean.. such impeccable taste in clothing, such distinctive looks... however. We're simply not compatible in the way of group activities." He steps down from the doorway.
Marayla DiMeglio smiles oh-so slightly, "Your critique on my fashion sense is remarkably astute, my dear," to Damion. She glances over at Maxim, noting, "If that's the problem, Mr. Corsuca, I can always practice my slumming."
Damion glances at Maxim and then Marayla then finally himself, "We don't exactly match do we? Ah well, I should probably be preparing my defense for court since Jeremy refuses to see the wisdom of dropping the charges. -That- should be entertaining... not."
Maxim halts alongside Marayla, gaze turned towards her. "Never," he declares in a softly dashing fashion, manner full of verve. "Nothing but grief comes from lowering yourself, dear lady. Never abandon your station; instead, raise others to your level... right, darling?" That last part is just fluff, audacious familiarity between the pauper and the princess. He flashes a slight smile, then propels himself into forward motion, beginning to stroll off as his thinly-gloved hands slip into his slacks pockets.
Marayla DiMeglio's quiet laughter spills out in answer, the sound alone signifying approval of the words. She doesn't press the issue any further however, simply watching him go.
Damion regards Marayla for a moment "Do you know what bug is up Doc's butt? I know what some of his old problems were but he never acted this way before"
Marayla DiMeglio answers in a distracted voice, her attention still on Maxim's departing form. "I haven't the foggiest idea, my dear. He's been moodier than usual lately, even to me."
Maxim doesn't say a formal goodbye, having implied his intent many moments ago. He also doesn't maintain his straight-backed posture for long. Already it's slipping back into the natural slouch of a fellow in tune with the casual secrets of the streets, as he heads for the corner of Lazlo and Freedom. He glances to the side, then angles off the curb in a rather haphazard fashion, taking himself across the street to peer into the large picture window of a fancy dress shop. He leans forward, scrutinizing quietly something through the glass.
Damion says "Talk to him then, I tried to tell him he was screwing up but he doesn't want to believe me." He tosses his forgotten cigar into the gutter when he remembers it "It'd be better for everybody if he just took it like a man instead of whining."
Marayla DiMeglio finally tears her gaze away, returning it to Damion. "I'll mention it to him if I get a chance, my dear. However, I've little control over the man."
Damion shrugs, "Unfortunately he's one of the better witch-doctors we have, but if he forces me I'll bury him. Using a weapon in a fight carries a much more serious penalty than assault, and I don't want him any worse than he is... I'd prefer the little shit get over whatever's on his mind truth to be told. I still like him"
Marayla DiMeglio dips her head in a nod, "I'll be sure to pass the message on in... different words, my dear."
Maxim finds some way to not look laughable, windowshopping intently in front of Figaro's, a ladies apparel store just past the northeastern corner. He finally leans back into his slouch, hands in pockets disrupting the smooth lines of his coat. Seemingly in deep thought, he turns away and makes his way across the street again when the traffic flow looks favorable.
Damion chuckles roughly, "I think it'd go better from you even if you used the same words, but different words would prob'ly be better"
Marayla DiMeglio echoes the laughter politely, "Probably."
Damion half-bows and tips his hat, "If you'd excuse me for now though dear lady, I should head back into my lair and plot some future mischief"
Marayla DiMeglio murmurs, "Enjoy, Councilman." She extends her hand out to him.
Damion takes the offered hand and brushes the back with his lips, "Goodnight fair lady, and better luck in your endeavors" He turns toward the Succubus and walks away.
Maxim steps up onto the western curb and strides back the way he originally emerged, away down Lazlo. He disappears beyond the building on the corner, further strolling into the slum areas of Tolkeen. Perhaps he's not so unlike the Councilman after all. Then again...
Marayla DiMeglio watches Damion walk away now, hands folding together behind her back while she considers him.
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