The roof of the library is flat and expansive. In places it sags slightly, tending to collect damp patches or pools in those areas, but despite this damage it still seems solid. A three foot wall runs along the edge, ending in small extensions or cupolas at the corners. Wrought iron decorative spires sit atop these. Someone's brought up a few aluminium and plastic lounge chairs, a few plastic lawn tables, and one large, round patio lawn table with four matching chairs and an expansive sun umbrella through its center. The vast expanse of St. Claires landscape can be viewed here--or at least most of Regan Avenue. The larger buildings of downtown dwarf the old library and seem to pull it humbly back to earth and close it in. Dominating the available view is the old cathedral across that street. every night it thrums and throbs as the Temple comes alive in stark contrast to the silent, vigilant, and vacant library.
Compact is the word for him: wiry, maybe 5'6" in his beat-up black combat boots, with a sense of compressed energy and imminence like a coiled spring -- or a cocked gun. Never quite still for long, balance flowing through the balls of his feet. There's a striking intensity to his narrow blue-green eyes, the colour contrasting with his fair skin and spiky copper hair; just below the left is what at first appears to be a faint mole, but closer inspection reveals as a small, long-healed scar. His features are appealing, with high cheekbones and a good jawline, but it's the confident mien and roguish smile that most often seem to draw people in.
The above are probably the first things people notice on nights during which he is not also wearing a fluffy, thigh-length caramel-coloured probably-faux fur coat. This not one of those nights. Under it, he's more reasonably clad, in old black jeans with the rip in one knee and the cuffs half walked off, today with a blue t-shirt bearing the superman logo, the print very faded and the fabric looking thin enough that it may have genuinely gotten that way through time and not retro-merchandising. The shirt's rather snug in a flattering sort of way. Over it he's wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, unbuttoned, with a scattered pattern of tiny blue and red dolphins; he's also in possession of a pair of white plastic wayfarer-style sunglasses with iridescent indigo lenses. There's a couple leather-and-bead bracelets on one wrist and a length of ball-chain disappearing beneath his collar; his nails were apparently painted black some time ago, since they're starting to show chips. Late teens, most likely, and when he speaks it's in a mellifluous, southern-accented baritone voice.
Briari stands at a fairly average height of five foot three with shoulder length curly blonde hair. Her eyes are a soft blue color. She has a lean, lanky build about her which appears built more for running than lifting. She tends to dress in boring jeans and shirts purchased at the local Hot Topic. Geekery shirts with logos of Adventure Time, My Little Pony, Futurama, Star Wars, etc. She rarely wears make up or jewelry. She has a bit of a southern tan complexion from living in Georgia.
<OOC> Felix says "When are we? Now?"
<OOC> Briari says "We can say it is last night. Laaate last night :)"
<OOC> Felix says "Okay, except 'late on a Saturday night' there's a very good chance of Felix not being here. ;) How late is laaaaate?"
<OOC> Briari says "3 a.m."
<OOC> Briari says "He could have got a text message also in the form of emojis: Library emoji + Cockroach emoji = Now"
<OOC> Felix says "Probably not home. Give it an hour or two and he might be getting home? And ha. That might work."
<OOC> Felix says "Text message in reply, btw: rat emoji + library emoji = soon-with-arrow emoji" (? + ? = ?)
It is a foggy early, early, early morning in Saint Claire and the sound of a 'thud' can be heard on the roof as Bombshell lands after leaping from another. The superhero dressed in black body armor, full face mask that covers her head in trench coat strides back and forth in wait as the gold gauntlets about her wrists whirl and click as they reset and reload. The red eyes gleam brightly through infrared vision as she scans the streets below for a few moments, then towards the entrance to the roof in wait.
Early, early morning... or late, late night? Possibly depends which direction one's coming at it from. Felix isn't in immediate evidence when Briari gets to the roof, neither on the streets below nor coming up the stairs from below. It's a few minutes of nothing, and then movement on one of the nearby roofs, coming in the right direction. Apparently the Galliard's in the mood for leaping around tonight as well, the lower portion of his furry coat flying out behind him as he moves through the air. He lands on the library roof with a roll onto his feet, and glances around for the figure he expects. It's the gauntlets and eyes that really show up first. "Evenin'," he greets her, brushing roof-grit from the shoulder of his coat. "'sup?"
"Same shit, different day. Got a job for you." The auto-tuned robotic voice comes from the built in throat box beneath the mask. "Found an interesting individual holed up in the warehouse district. At first I passed her off as a crazy homeless lady, but I decided to stick around and watch her from afar. I don't think she is one of yours, but I am not sure if she is one of them either."
Felix stretches, eyeing the Walker as if he might be able to read something more than robotic face and robotic voice off her. Body language, maybe; there isn't much else. "Which 'them' you got in mind, an' this is a right now thing? She need more watching from afar, or are you thinkin' more I go say hi? 'cause ain't that many people holed up in anywhere appreciate a hi from a stranger this time of night."
"That is up to you and yours to decide. She was eating a rat that she roasted. Then set money on fire that I offered her to get a real meal and some comfort. Told me the world is a cancer, yadda yadda crazy talk." Bombshell says as she gives a motion with a gauntleted hand. "After I left, I watched her from across the street, because she gave me an itch. I saw her shift forms into a wolf, then curl up into some cardboard boxes. I know she is not one of yours due to her diet, unless she was trying to make a statement."
The rat part gets somewhat less reaction than one might expect, a small twist of the mouth and a nod; one corner of his lips quirks up slightly at the part about the money and crazy talk, and Felix nods again. "Ah. That kinda 'them'," he says, "Got it. Well, ain't like I got a good way to tell, personally, but I'll get someone who does. Which warehouse we talkin' about? What's she look like, or are you gonna just show me? ...if you're gonna show me, gimme a sec to go down an' change before we go."
"Already texted the address and a picture of her to you." Bombshell says as she holds up one of her hands to inspect her gauntlets, giving them another whirl, then slips her free hand to her utility belt to take out a roll of pink shot-gun capsules and loads them with a click-clack. "Bring backup, she is volatile. That much I can tell. Her bedside manners leave a lot to be desired. Probably best to get a sniff test before you engage. If she is one of 'them', having a talk may not be necessary."
Felix snorts. "Yeah, not so much, 'long's it's pretty sure she ain't got friends, I guess." He reaches into his pocket for the phone, checking for the information. "You reckon she been there long? Got the feelin' this's a one-night crash, or did it look more like she was aimin' to stay a bit?" He glances to the Walker, arching a brow slightly, "Would you know?"
"My skill-set is not able to determine whether or not she is of the enemy, but my gut tells me that she has potential for trouble." Bombshell says as she starts for the edge of the roof. "She has not been there long from what I can tell and she is running solo. But, I set up a camera in the vicinity to record. I'll send you feeds between now and then if something interesting pops up." With that, she steps off the ledge with a flutter of her trench coat.