Running In Battery Park

July 18, 2014: People meet in public and nothing blows up or dies.

Battery Park - Financial District - New York City

A neighborhood on the southeastern side of Manhattan which comprises the offices and headquarters of many of the city's major financial institutions, including the New York Stock Exchange and the Federal Reserve Bank of New York. The World Trade Center existed in the neighborhood until the September 11 attacks and is currently being rebuilt.

Battery Park is a 25-acre (10 ha) public park located at the Battery, the southern tip of Manhattan Island in New York City, facing New York Harbor. The Battery is named for the artillery batteries that were positioned there in the city's early years to protect the settlement behind them.



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Mood Music:

There are a number of very pleasant walkways and paths through the park area, and occasional runners can be seen on them. One such runner is Simon Williams, who actually doesn't look unusually out of place among the excessively-fit men and women who run these trails; he's clad in a pair of nylon running shorts and an Underarmor sleeveless top with a Captain America star logo, which makes him one of six men so dressed, and the only one with black hair among them.

He's got an earpiece stuck in one ear, and he is, of course, talking on the phone that goes with it.

"Murray, do NOT tell me that you cancelled my appearance on Colbert. No, I don't really want to go on LaTeesha Live. No. She practically undressed that zookeeper guy, he had to restrain her with a snake. NO. Get me on the Daily Show then, I don't care."

He stops running to buy a bottle of water from a vendor cart while he's still talking.


It's out of his way, but Sam Wilson likes to make his way down to Battery Park to go jogging. First of all, it's as far as he can get from the neighborhood where he grew up, so he's less likely to run into anyone he doesn't want to. Second, all of the water helps to remind him he's well out of the desert. And third, call him a sentimentalist, but the view of the Statue of Liberty appeals to him. Not even so much the statue itself, but the tourists, believe it or not. He's seen a lot of the nasty side of his country's interactions with the rest of the world. It gives him a good feeling to watch visitors from all over the globe — people who don't speak his language and wouldn't understand his life if they could — gaze and grin and take pictures with Lady Liberty. He likes the reminder of what the country he fought for can mean to people.

Yeah, yeah — he IS a sentimentalist.

He stops behind Simon, smirking wryly at the Cap star. He's wearing plain grey and black workout gear himself; he may own a few similiarly branded items himself, but they've been shelved ever since he met the man behind the shield. It just seems weird now. That said, he can't really imagine Steve continuing to argue into a phone while a vendor was waiting patiently for him to buy something. He leans over the guy's shoulder and gives a quick nod to the cart owner, functionally cutting the phone chatterer in line. "Hey. Bottled water?"


Lunair is an explorer. Life early on left her trapped in small rooms. Now, she takes the chance to go as many places as she can. Because she can. She's curious about the idea of a city having batteries. Invade? New York? Strange idea, that. But she decides to take a walk along the walkway, one of the slower ones. She doesn't seem excessively fit, but it's hard to tell. Even if she's not being a frill monster, she seems to prefer a slightly looser look. Like an art student ran screaming through an aisle of fabric and vowed never to be shackled again. A fashionic amoeba, if you will. She will smile politely at people in passing, but her expression seems - flat. Blunt.

Still, it's warm and she is thirsty. She boggles a bit, seeing some of the joggers in line and blinks. Wait. Is that Sam? "… Sam?" She offers experimentally. Carefully. If it's not Sam, Lunair's going to do the run of shame.


"OH, sorry, guy. Go ahead," Simon says, still fumbling at his belt for the… ah, there it is. Money clip. Why is water five bucks? Because tax. Otherwise it would be four bucks fifty. Don't ask, feel free to drink from the fountains if it's too expensive. Besides, the bottled stuff has simulated mango juice flavor extract in it. So it's swanky.

He steps back so the art major — wow, haven't seen one that decorative since LA — can get in and talk to this guy, and puts the rest of his money back in the slot in the belt, slipping the five to the vendor when he gets a chance. Murray is apparently talking, ranting or something, it's almost audible to people who are NOT wearing the earphone.

"Do you feel better now, Murray?" Simon asks when the screaming dies down. "Look, I told you, I am not going to get into any fake superhero fights to raise my public image, because I am not a superhero, I am nowhere near that good a person, and I do not want people trying to copy whatever stuff I do. You already know why, that kid in Encino… I am an actor, Murray, and you are my agent, and you do not get any money if I am playing superhero. So think about it. Call me back when you have an acting gig."

He taps the earpiece and swigs down the entire bottle of water to take away the taste of agent speak.


"Oh, hey, Lunair!" Sam glances over his shoulder and greets her with a warm smile as he exchanges cash with the vendor. "Hope I'm saying that right." He is. He's a natural with people, and remembering names and faces is part of that. "What brings you around here? You're not really dressed for a run."

Simon gets a quizzical, pleasantly surprised look — this being Manhattan, Sam was half-expecting and fully prepared for a bit of confrontational street theater. "Fake superhero fights?" he can't help but ask. "That's a thing actors do for publicity now? I thought we were still in the era of the hopefully-viral YouTube video."


Ironically, Lunair's a student of botany. But she might squeak in a minor in art because she can and somehow, it keeps the urge to fight away sometimes. Funny how that works. She smiles politely at Simon. He seems familiar somehow, maybe. She doesn't really seem to question it. She will pay for her own bottle of water after the other two. "You said it just fine. You may call me Luna or Lu if that's easier," She offers and smiles back to Sam. She seems happy enough. Then a pause. "I usually run in the evenings or nights. Then no one notices if I trip or look funny," She remarks.

Then she looks over at Simon as Sam does. An owlish blink. "I guess he's famous. He seems familiar," She contemplates. Is he an actor? Hmm. She seems sympathetic. She is quiet as Sam asks his question.


Simon waits for the girl — Lune-air? Huh, interesting — to talk with her acquaintance, wincing a bit at "trip or look funny" because it's totally out of character for an Art Major (and incipient fabric flower) to actually raise a sweat by running. At least, the LA ones - they go to Curves and live on wheatgrass and organic-quinoa-flower honey smoothies like bees. His ego is strangely unharmed by her not knowing who he is.

"Hi, Simon Williams, B-Grade action hero and wanna-be actor," he says, offering a handshake if either wants it.

"Yeah, viral videos… the propane bomber thing that happened in Central Park on the fifth went on YouTube — and Murray went NUTS about it. He wants me to set up stuff like that, which is NOT happening. I might be nearly invulnerable, but other people are not and I'm not an idiot, people know when stuff is faked."


"No thanks. I went to school with a guy named Lou. He was an ass," Sam answers Lunair, finishing with a short laugh. "I gotta run during the day — you don't get cut if you don't sweat." What a meathead. He takes a long swig of his own water, glancing over at Simon as he finishes. "Action movies, huh? That's awesome, man." He returns the handshake firmly. "Sam Wilson. Also a B-grade action hero, but I can't act worth a damn." He smirks conspiratorially over at Lunair. "Although if I'd known there was a career in it, I would have made sure someone was recording us before we took on Sparky and Teen Wolf the other day."


Indeed! Lune-air, not to be confused with Luthanasia Air! She smiles faintly to Simon. "I see! That makes sense. I've been trying to catch up on movies," She admits quietly. Pause. "Pleased to meet you, Simon. I'm Lunair Weir,," She offers and carefully accepts the handshake. "And you would be the first action guy slash actor I've ever met," She looks duly impressed. Why not? He's a celebrity! Even if Lunair is desperately behind on socialization. But she tries.

She quirks a smile at Sam. And that smile becomes a wry grin. "Fair enough. And I guess not. That just means I have to make sure to run lots," She considers. She seems to think Simon is awesome, too! "And hah." A beat. "Um. I can see why people'd wanna watch that stuff. I've seen a few of the big ones," She remarks. "Still, it's really honorable of you to look after people like that."


"Sparky and Teen Wolf?" Simon says, confused. Wait. B-Grade action hero? Is this guy one of the REAL superhero types? Like Purple Arrow Dude? Anyway, it's been nearly a week since the two Supernatural Western Ghost-Powered dudes and the alien blood-brother guys trashed the poker game… but that wasn't really superheroics, and they kept it out of the news. So maybe Simon's personal Weirdness Electromagnet hasn't been satisfied enough yet.

"Uhm, I guess. It's just common sense, I mean, those two jackass guys who kept doing the stupid stunts on television got all sorts of kids hurt, and one of them died being a, well, drunken jackass. I mean, if you have the ability to help and you should do it, but not in a way that inspires stupidity, right?"


"It was about as impressive as those dumb nicknames make it sound," Sam tells Simon, wincing in a self-deprecating way. "I tied a jacket around a teenage girl's head, and then nearly lost a wrestling match with another one." He pauses to flex for an ironic, exaggerated hero pose. "No autographs, please."

He chuckles as he returns to a relaxed posture, giving Simon an inquisitive look. "So… invulnerable, huh? That must be nice," he comments, trying not to sound too envious. "I don't suppose there's a referral program?"


Lunair seems amused by the exchange for now, and she goes quiet. She looks attentive and curious. "Yeah, that makes sense. I almost got pushed down Times Square in a NOS booster powered shopping cart on a dare. Fortunately, I claimed illness and didn't," She remarks. "I still think it's honorable of you," Then an amused look as Sam explains his heroics. She looks like she wants to defend him but says nothing.

"Invulnerable does sound pretty nice," Lunair agrees quietly. Being squishy (read: A normal human) does have serious, serious drawbacks. She is standing near Sam and Simon, holding a water bottle and chatting with them.


"Nice form," Simon observes at Sam's flex. "Good peak on the bicep."

He listens to Lunair's explanation and winces and says, "Yeah, that's exactly the kind of imitatable stupid that I try to avoid, good work."

He gets a little somber looking at the "is there a referral," though.

"I got the powers because I was an idiot and let myself get talked into trying to take revenge on someone who didn't deserve it. The process involved nearly destroying me with some kind of energy blast, and using alien magic to keep me from dispersing, and incidentally, blackmailing me into being a lackey for a wannabe supervillain. So I don't advise it. Especially the 'dead for a year' after-party. That was pretty horrible too."


Sam laughs as Simon comments on his form. "Yeah, they drill you on that stuff in basic training." He sobers as the man continues, offering him a sympathetic look. "Sorry — I didn't mean to bring up something painful. Seems like all the actual superpowers come with a price. I'll stick to jumping out of airplanes and clothes-based fighting, if it's all the same to you."

Draven's arrival leaves him puzzled, but he offers the newcomer a smile. "That obvious, huh?" he answers with a bit of teasing bravado.


Lunair is quiet, again. She seems amused by the comment about Sam's flex. "Um, thanks. Mostly, it might've been kinda funny but mostly terrible," She considers. She frowns, though, hearing simon's story. She seems sympathetic. "Wow. I'm sorry. That seems pretty rough," She considers. Then a blink at Sam. "Clothes based fighting? Like Strip—" Pause. "… she told me not to tell anyone about her clothing based-" ERROR. ERROR. BLUE SCREEN. RESET THE SYSTEM. GONK.

Lunair has a /mom/. "Martial arts totally count." She manages to jump off the thought train before it slams into a wall. And then, there's Draven! She waves, smiling politely. Pause. "Um."


"Oh yeah, I'm the life of the party," Simon answers the newcomer, "except instead of a ball pit, they bring a napalm pit, and I get the extra hour all to myself."

He tilts his head sideways for a moment then snaps his fingers, as the stranger comes up.

"Draven Corbin! Right? I saw you on that 'Escaped From Gotham' thing on Comedy Central last week."

He does notice Lunair's mental trainwreck, as it shows in her body language. OK, yeah, that one COULD hurt herself running - get distracted, trip on the edge of a sharp shadow, etc. He doesn't go into further detail to the other two about the stupidity of getting powers from a mad scientist because, well, he deserved most of the bad part for being a willful idiot.


Draven just smirks as he raises a brow at Lunair's behaviour, though turns his gaze towards Sam. "Well, you know. Three suspicious people do catch ones attention, so something fun has to be going on." He suggests and gives his wide smile along with a chuckle, seeming just slightly charming perhaps. Nodding to Simon as well. "Awesome, as long as people don't go falling dead when you leave. It'd be a pain to clean up." He continues on the train of thought.

"Indeed, that's me. Pleasure to meet you. And no hurting the comic." He suggests, having perhaps heard a bit of their talk. Continuing to give a few nods about where he had seen him. "Glad you seem to have liked it." Even adding a questioning brow raise at that. Trying to just keep up with what's going on. Glancing around a bit. "You know, there is a show coming up next week. I'm sure there's still tickets." He suggests to them, "Sorry. Never caught your names." Even if he might know of some of them, he'll ask.


"Um… I meant when I blinded the blasty one with my jacket," Sam explains to Lunair, wincing at her awkward misunderstanding. He does what he can to salvage it: "My stripping-based combat technique is for private performances only — rates are pretty reasonable, though."

Draven definitely won't have heard of him, so he just smirks and answers, "Sam Wilson. A comedy show would be nice — haven't seen any of those that weren't USO shows in ages. And those have a dress code."


Pause. Lunair looks a bit puzzled for a moment. And weirdly, her quirky, friendly nature just might be one of the best possible covers for the horrifically lethal powers and training she has. It's not even really intentional. She doesn't push Simon for further information, thankfully. She quirks a brow at Draven. "Suspicious?" Peer. She smiles faintly at his comment about hurting the comic. "Fortunately, people only really throw tomatoes. Throwing watermelons didn't work out for anyone." Smart alec.

She lets people enjoy their fame politely and cheerfully. "I thought - you seem familiar somehow. But I'm Lunair. And meeting two celebrities in one day. Neat." Hey, she is impressionable. And then a glance to Sam. "Oh. Yeah! You did," She nods. Then her eyes widen and she turns red. "Oh." Does she even have a Sam sized cake for him to pop out of? The answer is no. "USO?"


"Simon Williams. Also called Wonder Man by certain trade zines written by and for people without common sense," the actor says. "You may know me from Mickey Baye's upcoming 'Thor-Minator' movie, or from his previous three explosion fests."

He starts to figure out how to broach giving Draven permission to snark about him in his routine when Sam's comment about stripping-based combat causes him to forget how to breathe for a moment. That is one undignified laugh there.


Draven just smirks and looks between Sam and Lunair at the talk of the fighting styles and whatnot. "Hey, it could had been worse." He suggests, not giving examples though. "Pleasure, I am sure you've heard enough Cast Away jokes, so I'll try not to poke at that." He offers. Nodding to Lunair then, "Yeah, I've seen enough movies to know not to trust a group of people seeming to have fun." He teases before a chuckle is escaping the comedian about watermelons, "I am quite glad for that. Else I'd soon take the headless horseman's place as the man with the weirdest head." Comes his slight quick joke in return, if not that good of one perhaps.

"Pleasure." He continues to them before looking to Simon. "Ah, nice to meet you in person, Big Willy." Laughing about the new movie, "Ah, right right." Shaking his head about the stripping-based combat, giving a laugh. "It is just funny that I think I've seen that somewhere." Being quite active online it's not odd for him to find a lot of stupid memes and similar.


"United Something or Other," Sam answers Lunair without skipping a beat. "They bring comedians and bands and stuff to deployed troops to keep us from going completely — uh, to keep us from getting bored. You know, in a war zone." His expression turns wry and a bit distant. "I missed most of the good ones, but I did catch a few comedians. Uh, no offense." He glances apologetically at Draven, thawing out from his momentary cooling as they all snicker about his striptease-fu. "Hey, you all laugh, but that shit is distracting," he says with a grin, patting himself as though checking for wounds. "I'm still standing here, aren't I?"


Lunair tilts her head. Waitaminute. Wonder Man? She's - uh oh. She might've seen Wonder Man before. "Wait. Punched an angry red guy out of a Madonna video who was after Superman Wonder Man?" Oh boy. She just giggles as Sam laughs. She pauses. "If that's true, wouldn't you die pretty early in the movie? The funny ones always go so fast…" She counters, thinking. She doesn't seem quite as savvy in any sense. "And I am sure there is a hero or heroine for reals who does remove clothing for power. Even if their name is like, Distractotron."

She ahs as Sam explains. "I see. I think I understand." There's a lot of hurry up and wait. "It's nice that they do that, then," She settles quiet as his gaze goes distant. "Hey, maybe your special move could involve a cake?" Hmmm. "And you are. We're glad for that." A beat. "In a non-creepy, socially acceptable manner." She REALLY has a hard time expressing herself.


Simon grins at Sam's and Lune's remarks, before he realizes what Draven called him — and it was the name of a particular viral video, dammit.

"Big Willy… Oh man, tell me they didn't put that thing from the fire back up," Simon says, blushing. Yeah, his clothes weren't fireproof, and there were a few moments when he wasn't all purple-glowy, and of course someone had a brand-new high-quality phone cam. He didn't even have time to return the borrowed firemen's trous before the thing had ten thousand views and a stripper-music remix.

Lunair said something distracting! Oh thank all the … "Yeah, that's me, wait… I've seen you before. With a really bizarre gun of some kind. It almost didn't register because that angry guy kept punching my head. I won though, I broke his hand. With my FACE."


"Hey, if I were ever in a movie, I'd be doomed anyway," Falcon answers, waving a hand in a circle to indicate his face. "You've never heard the rule about black dudes? Might as well have some fun before I Sean Bean. Cakes, nudity, whatever it takes." He laughs. "And I appreciate your socially acceptable affection."

Simon's story leaves him laughing even harder. "Wait, you mean you've actually DONE the naked combat thing? I've always had at least a full field kit, and usually a pair of —" He falters, suddenly realizing that he may have let his guard down a little too far. Like, military secrets far. He covers for it by interrupting himself: "Wait, you two know each other?"


Lunair pauses. Wait, what? Big Willy. An eyebrow lifts at Simon. Poor Simon. "Um?" She must not have seen the video. But she's starting to get an idea, and she's not sure what to make of it. Then her eyes widen and she goes a bit pale. He DID see her. "Um. Er. Are you sure…? And I'm sorry if I blew some sort of cover," She frowns. She seems much less 'out' as a hero. Oh dear.

Then she looks to Falcon. "Oh." Poor Falcon! She seems amused. "A p—" Lunair's turn to falter in turn. "… maybe?" She offers quietly.


"I didn't really intend to," Simon replies. "I went ionic once I realized that there was a BREEZE where there should not have been one."

He grins over at Lunair and says, "oh no, I've got no secret identity, Lunair. The glowing red eyes thing kind of makes it impossible. But if you have one, well, I don't know what your codename is so I can't spill it."

That probably makes no sense at all. He glances over to where Draven is being mobbed by fan. Or maybe two. It's difficult to tell with the bouncing.


"Yeah, uh, a pair of… pliers," Sam covers badly. "In case my, uh, gun broke, and I needed to fix it." What the hell — they all seem to be civilians. It's not like they'll know any better, right? "Important piece of military field equipment." He laughs at Simon's elaboration of the story. "Speaking of important equipment — guess I should be grateful for my low profile. Nobody's rushing to put my most embarrassing moments on the internet." He points at the Captain America logo on Simon's shirt. "I don't know how you and that guy put up with it."


Lunair stifles a grin. "I see. That sounds - er…" Hm. "… um. Well, that's rough." Poor Simon. "At least it was a positive reaction?" Always lookin' on the bright side. "And oh. Fair enough," She smiles as he grins over at her. She seems uncertain. She seems uncertain on if she should admit it. "I try to keep a low profile, too," She admits. But she tilts her head. Pliers. "Oh."

The worst part is, Lunair simply accepts Sam's words. She's impressionable. "It seems tough to be so open," She agrees. She looks over to where poor Draven is being mobbed. "At least the farmer's market's not in town." Smart ass.


"Seriously, I don't need to know whatever it is you're trying not to say," Simon laughs. "Anyway, I've only met the Captain once, and he was kind of unconscious at the time. I was a little more impressed by the SUV that the SHIELD woman was driving. That thing was kinda heavy."

He grins at Lunair's upbeat take on his situation. "My agent thinks it was wonderful publicity. The next two script offers I got for consideration had nude scenes."


Sam snorts. "I say go for it. If the footage is out there anyway, might as well make a buck off it." He grins as he glances out over the water. "Then again, I'm probably a bad person to ask. My answer is almost always 'go for it' — never realy had time for considering the consequences."

He exits his brief reverie and glances back and forth between the two. "So, if you're both all superpowered, why not go the superhero route? Do some good, get some recognition. I bet the perks are amazing."


Lunair smiles as Simon laughs. "Really?" She tries to imagine that scene a moment. At his grin, she listens. "Oh yeah? Well, um. That's definitely a plus if you're okay with it," She considers. "But I suspect Sam is right." She peers over as Sam glances out to the water. "Something something… damn the torpedoes…?" She's being a bit wry.

At the suggestion of going superhero, her expression dims. "I am sure they are. But…" She trails off. She seems distant. "Not to get all angsty and broody about it, mind you." She holds up her hands. "It's sort of hard to explain."


Simon nods, at both of them, and shrugs at the mention of the perks, because there isn't usually a paycheck attached to a superhero gig.

"Well, to be honest, would YOU want the liability?" Simon asks. "I mean, I do the good samaritan thing when I can, and I did some work for the city as part of a public apology for the temporary villain thing. But I can punch out a skyscraper, if I get worked up enough, and that comes with some serious collateral damage. I don't want to be doing that without some kind of guarantees, some kind of authorization, even. I'd need a way to make sure nobody gets hurt in the crossfire. Otherwise, I'd just be a vigilante, and we don't need vigilantes."


"Sorry, not trying to push you," Sam reassures Lunair with a gentle smile. "And I just spaced out there for a second. Reflecting on my misspent youth. And childhood. And adulthood. And everything, really. I'm a big misspender." He grins, but then looks a bit more thoughtful as he turns to Simon. "I guess that's true. Proportionate force is a tough thing to remember in the moment, even when you're just a regular guy carrying a gun. But I guess the idea is, if you're not there when someone needs help, who will be?" He shrugs. "I guess my attitude is: someone's gotta take on the responsibility. I'm just not comfortable expecting that of other people when I'm not willing to consider it for myself."


Lunair hms. "Aren't there official heroes who work with the government? I'm never sure. I - don't do that sort of thing," She holds her hands up. "I mean, I help if I see trouble and all," She remarks. "And really? A skyscraper? Geez. I must've been out to the bathroom when all the cool stuff got doled out. Super attractiveness, punching things, regeneration…" Siiiiiiiiigh and a pout. Teenagers. Gotta love 'em.

She is, though, making fun of herself a little. And then she glances to Sam smiling. "Spaced out?" Headtilt. "But you've been awesome so far!" Whether Lunair has odd standards or what is up for question, admittedly. "There are lots of reasons someone wouldn't go open. I don't - ehm. For starters, there's an awful lot of people who hate people with powers. Not all powers are good for fighting crime…" Just ask Lost Remote Finding Lad or Only Her Skin Goes Invisible Lady (though, she turns a HUGE profit being a life drawing model!) or even Uncontrollable Cursing Man. "Stuff like that. I mean, what if my power was humming really annoying catchy tunes or knitting or something?" SCARF ACE, TERROR ON THE STREETS. Actually, she's politely leaving out the 'is murderous' and 'has lethal powers' bits. But, details, right?


"Yeah, and I agree, Sam, that's why I do actually help when I can," Simon replies. He grins at Lunair's pout.

"You actually didn't miss the attractiveness thing, you're just not quite grown into it yet."

He ponders very seriously, before saying, "I need to get that last one back to Murray. There's definitely at least a syfy channel movie there, about … THE KNITTER!!! scourge of the underworld."


Sam breaks down laughing. "I never thought about novelty powers. But you're right, I guess it's not for everybody," he readily agrees, still grinning. "Worth considering, though. And Simon's right — don't sell yourself short," he tells Lunair, crossing his arms and giving her a mock disapproving look. "That freeze gun you were using the other day was pretty cool. Cooler than my plus five jacket of blinding, for damn sure."

Having been taken away for quite a long while by fans Draven does turn around as he looks towards them again. "So, what did I miss?" He asks, smirking a bit. Looking between each person with a raised brow, just studying faces. Rubbing his temple a bit as to ease a headache. He does catch Lunair's last words on cool powers, grinning a bit. "Chuckling as he listens. Hearing about her speaking about if her power was huming catchy tunes, smirking. "Sounds like what my power is, being either funny or annoying." He suggests. Turning his grin and gives a quick chuckle. Just listening to them go on about the powers and stuff, not really in that line of work himself. "Hey, I agree with the lads, you're not too bad on the eye and all. Also, I wouldn't dare saying anything else after the mention of a freeze gun."


Lunair turns 7 shades of red. "Oh." Darn youth, always foiling her. Can't drink, doesn't often get hired, it's tough. That, and her brain is still developing the 'consequences' lobe. Which means she and her peers probably DON'T have a problem riding in shopping carts or doing stupid things. "And hah," She grins. "It would be - something," She seems amused. Cheesy syfy does sell? It does.

Then she giggles as Sam breaks down laughing. His grin makes her smile. "No, not for everyone. Personality is probably important, too," She notes. Then her eyes widen and she is quiet. Hey! Disapproving looks are a weakness. "But you stuck a jacket on a girl who was making cars flip like tiddlywinks. That's - brave." So there. She looks to Draven. "Oh? Um. I don't - think you're annoying?" An eyebrow lifts. "And um. Thanks." Awkward. But she appreciates the kind words. "It's sort of hard to explain."


Simon starts to say something along the 'welcome back' line to Draven, maybe commiserate about the privileged attitude of fans, but that's when Murray calls him back. So he steps away, rather than being rude in person, "Yeah, Murray?"


Sam holds up his hands and tips them back and forth, as though balancing something invisible. "Brave? Dumb? Who knows?" He raises his eyebrows and leans forward conspiratorially. "Everyone. Everyone knows. But I can pretend they don't for my own self-esteem." He laughs and drains some more of his water bottle, before adding, "But speaking of things I do for self-esteem, I better get back to my run. It was great meeting you both, and running into you again, Lunair."


"You don't!? Oh crap, that's what I make a living out of," Draven teases with overexagerated speech and arm motions. Giving a brief nod to let Simon handle his conversation. "Same to you, Sammy. May the force be with you." He offers, letting him head on off. Being a bit silly, especially with it being in the voice of Yoda.


Simon should also get back to his run, but he doesn't really do it for fitness reasons, more for the pleasant sensation of whatever serves him for endorphins. But right now? He's got Murray L. Wasserstein (the L is for Larfleeze) on the phone trying to talk him into a naked appearance on a Spanish network soap opera.

"I don't speak Spanish, Murray. What? No. Is it artistically valid? How should you know? You're my agent, you're supposed to look out for this kind of thing."

He waves to Sam, and sighs, doing the 'talking hand puppet' gesture for the other two.

"Hey, I'll see you guys later, this is gonna take a while," he says, and then continues, "what do you mean artsy-fartsy. You're the one who said I should do that thing for Sundance. …"


Lunair seems sympathetic. It must be tough to have people demanding you all the time. But she hs no clue. Insetad, she grins at Sam. "But - you-" Pause. "Bah. You're modest. have fun on your run, and I am glad I got to see you," She waves to him. Lunair looks to Draven, looking a bit puzzled. "Oh well. I should probably go pick up those water color pencils I promised someone. It was good to see you all." She smiles and waves. She looks sympathetic towards Simon. "Oh. See you later!" And she will so do her thing.

Also spanish soap operas are totally gonzo and great.


Draven just chuckles as he catches some of the talk from Simon, having good hearing makes it hard to ignore it. Turning to Lunair as she speaks to him, "Ah, alright. Well. Feel free to poke in at one of my shows. That goes for all three of you." He assures them. "See you around." Then once more he looks to Simon. "What do you need him for? Maybe I can help convince him, I even speak spanish if that helps," he asks, not wanting to interrupt too much.

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