Rooms

Who: Eddie & Steph
Where: Arkham
When: recently
What: Eddie is the Agent Coulson of the bat family basically
Warnings: none probably

( While leaning back in Crane's big fancy head wizard chair, it occurred to Eddie that he had told himself that he wasn't going to get caught up in this demon stuff. )

[Eddie N]
[A day or two after he leaves Marvel, after he settles into Crane's office. On top of the wide, wide desk, when he's not looking, appears a bright green, pump-style coffee pot. The coffee inside is hot and rich, almost borderline too strong. And in a little basket next to it, a selection of creamers in foil-topped plastic cups. Some are normal (French Vanilla, Hazelnut, Mocha, Peppermint), but some are a little stranger (Almond Joy, Cinnabon), and a few that fall into the category of why (Chili pepper, Bacon). There's also a mug, just one, the same green as the coffee pot, with a note tucked inside: Thanks for the tacos. No other explanation.]

[Destiny]
[Back in the door. Catching up.]
Really?!

[Selina]
I don't remember the last time you teased me, which means it's been too long. How are you?

[A delivery comes to Neil's office just before lunch, Meredith knowing that's where he'd be. It's a meal from one of his favourite places near the office to eat along with a folded note in Meredith's handwriting.]

I'm sorry for how I behaved. I thought you might like a nice lunch today, so I hope you enjoy this.

I love you.

Mere

[Gwen hadn't slept well, and it kind of showed.

Sitting at the breakfast table of the Gramercy apartment that had seen mutants and tiny Gods alike, she was track-pants and a long-faded shirt from Midtown high, the thumb-holes indicating it had probably belonged to one of the many precursor Peters. Her hair was neatly pulled back, and her cornflower blue eyes were slow-blink sleepy. She nursed some green tea, which was warm but offered limited caffeine benefits, and she was considering a protein pancake. The sun was just beginning to think about warming up the sky, and she flipped the pages in the book she was reading on host/parasitic relationships, as if the words on the page were going to somehow provide some heretofore unknown insight to Carnage's psyche.

She'd begun work on a new containment unit, and the thing was in the corner of the kitchen, pieces of pieces, and she should really go steal the old one from Stark Tower. She could just ask Mr. Rogers, but she wasn't inclined to do that, and her dad would forgive her from his grave if she resorted to theft this one time. She didn't have her own lab anymore, and building anything as complicated as a containment unit was kind of beyond her currently available materials. They should probably get the suit repaired too, since it might be the only way to get the symbiote off whoever it decided was good enough to permanently host it.

Thinking about that made her shudder, and she flipped the page on the book and then headdesk'ed, cheek against the crisp pages as she gave up on reading altogether.] Why does training have to happen so early? [Yep, that was totally whiny.]

[Things in Gotham are changing. Falcone goons are getting better drugs and better pay in exchange for better behavior toward their girls, because upper management feels the girls bring in more profit if they're happier. So far, it's true, and things for the girls have improved. The same goes for the little foot soldiers in the mob wars. Their families have been getting some nice little perks - rent control, discounts at local shops - and those local shops and landlords have been getting some protection from other families. As for those other families? They're having a teensy bit of trouble keeping their lower ranks from flipping sides - Oops.

But things aren't as nice for Gotham's higher ups. Blackmail of city officials and the wealthy is escalating. One Heights resident jumped off his roof, and another family lost their home in payoffs. The PD is in Falcone hands, as is most of the governing body of the city. There's been bloodshed - of course there has - but not a drop spilled in Gotham's slums and inner city areas. And the city's wealthy? They can afford superb medical care. All's fair.

As for the Mayor? His absence is largely unexplained. He's stepped down for personal reasons, or so they say, and no one has seen Bruce Wayne in weeks. But life must go on, and a quiet little election was held to replace him. And the replacement? Maybe he's in deep with the Falcones. Things in Gotham are changing.]

[Perhaps he is a touch idle, if not lonely.]

[Locked to Mina M]
Miss Mina, how did you enjoy the festivities?

[Locked to Leif S]
I admit to finding you a curious fellow, sir. One happy to oblige others and give his many opinions free of charge, yet unduly silent thereafter.

[Public]
[Like one might put out an advertisement in the classifieds; typed out thusly.]

SEEKING…

—A young widow of pleasant disposition, dark-haired and dark-eyed, name of Zoe. Last seen at the Murray House, engaging in idle conversation with this gentleman on the vast, enigmatic topic of Fate.