2014.03.27 - Honey and Vinegar

Late evening, the last rays of sunlight dart down the skyscraper canyons, casting long shadows from the streetlamps and people walking the area, all colored in the color of the stuff the city planners have named it after, the golden color of honey. Moving with the flow of returning workers, Robyn seems to melt in with the crowd to some degree - until someone moves into the other side and would look into her face. Instead of living here, she has a target, that works here. The Mexican guy she is after is standing at the side of the street, clad in a brown trench coat which hides his goods. Pot, speed and E, all of those drugs. Hidden in a bag over her shoulder are Robyn's bow and arrows, the healthy eye scanning for the dealer.
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Joanna Black looks like she could belong here. Joanna has thrown a dusty old coat, probably acquired at some goodwill store somewhere, over her shoulders to ward off the early spring cold. Winter just won't go away, and the small woman is not built to weather it well, though she shows few signs of discomfort. Joanna walks down the street towards the shop, her hands stuffed stubbornly into her pockets while her eyes slowly and lazily scan the street around her. It would be a stretch to describe her gait as confident, but she does seem at ease with her surroundings. A Gotham rat born. Joanna rounds the corner, the same one the dealer happens to be peddling from, and stops to engage him in conversation. Nothing animated, just a few words exchanged here and there. How you doing, gettin' along, y'know. Nothing much of substance, just members of the neighborhood greeting one another, though Joanna does linger longer than pleasantries should allow.
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Robyn spotted her target, the dealer, and most likely a buyer. Taking a step out of the crowd to one of the telephone cells that had stopped working long ago, Robyn places the bag on the desk that would hold the yellow pages normally. Peering over the shoulder, she takes out the collapsible compound bow and an arrow before she reslings the bag, the arrow in the left, the bow in the right, both held as casually as possible as she stepped back into the flow. The good side of Honeyland: the people didn't care, as long as the gun was not pointed to them. Closing in on the pair of Joanna and the dealer, the distance reduced to two or three yards before a light click told of the bow unfolding and locking in the extended, stringed position. Another step with the left foot brought the arrow to the string; the next had reduced the distance to just about two yards, the right foot in front. It was just a little shift of the body and the bow went up, the right hand holding the bow, the left pulling back the string. "Hey Jose. Dealing again?" The golden eye stared at the scenery, dead as it was not a bow that held a crystal, but the people dashed from the very obvious line of fire.
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The conversation between Joanna and Jose ends as Robyn might have expected. The two slap hands. To most people not from the neighborhood it would look friendly, but to a thief or a professional magician the exchange between them is smooth and well-practiced. Joanna stuffs her hand into her pocket, depositing whatever it is she secured from the dealer, and then takes a step away. She stops when she hears the click. The small woman settles back onto her heels from the balls of her feet, making no sudden movements. Jose starts, jumping as if he's trying to get out of his shoes and backing against the wall. Joanna gives him a look and then turns to appraise Robyn. "What's it to you?" She asks, both hands deep in her pockets. While Jose looks like a kid the principal caught smoking after school, Joanna is not the flinching type. "You look ridiculous, by the way. Go bother someone else."
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"I will, once Jose here drops his dope to the drain. Can't let him stell the stuff to children, can you?" Robyn remarks back, the tip of the arrow still aiming at Jose. "And you should know better than buying dope." The people pass around them, changing the side of the street. The three wise apes: Hear not, see not, say not. Just Robyn, Jose and Joanna. "You need to get a real job, Jose..."
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"Better than an arrow, Jose." Joanna doesn't take long to contemplate the offer that Robyn makes. She glances back at the dealer and gives him a shrug. What are you going to do? Capes. She seems to say before turning back to Robyn. "Should I?" Jose shuffles off to the side, sticking to the building and staying Robyn's sight, to dispose of whatever inventory that he's carrying. Though perhaps he'll hold onto a little. "Who cares? Don't you have anything better to do?"
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Robyn snorts as she watches Jose dropping at least some of the inventory, eventually nodding a bit as she lowers the bow. "Need to start somewhere. Tell your boss, that if I ever catch you selling to a kid, you both get iced. And your supplier as well." With a few steps, Robyn changes to a short run, passing around the next corner. Cape? She had only been in a hooded Pullover...
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Joanna Black arches a brow at Robyn and her threat. "Sure thing." The small woman replies as she watches Robyn dart away. "Jeez. A friggin' bow." She looks back at Jose. "You all right?" He nods. She pulls out what she bought from him, which appears to just be folded paper. "Thanks. Lay low for a bit. I'll do what I can for ya." Then she walks away.
Category:Log