"I'm always down for a spar, though I doubt I'd make a very good teacher if you don't have much experience." She watches the power display with interest, following along down the wall in a rather less physics defying manner, though it does seem as though she can stick to places she shouldn't quite be able to, and make reaches with her limbs that no normal person could. "I'm not familiar with how your power feels to you, if they're 'icky' maybe it's trying to tell you something, or maybe it's a random hangup and you should ignore it, at least if it's not a hard restriction. Just the sort of mobility I've seen here could give you an edge in a fight, too few people expect another cape to be able to move like you do, or have the intuition for it even if they have some idea you might be able to do something like that."

"Good. We're bound to draw some attention regardless, but the less the better." Cruach alights on the ground with a little less flair, and begins striding towards the mouth of the alley. "Shall we?"

"I see. i look forward to seeing what you can do with a fully mature neural network, if you can accomplish all this without one."

She takes a couple steps back, looking over the table in its entirety as opposed to focusing in so intently on his immediate work. "Quite interesting. I'd love to look at the end results. But for now, I should probably be going. I'll be in contact, and should have that bioreactor for you sooner rather than later. I look forwards to working with you."

She begins making her way back outside, steps measured and quick, such that while she doesn't look hurried, her exit is nonetheless rather quick.

"Be careful of the force you put behind your attacks, not everyone is a Brute; and even if they are, hitting someone the wrong way can kill them just the same. I won't hold it against you, this time."

She turns and continues on her way, pausing briefly as she opens the door to turn back and address him again.

"It should, just use a lot of detergent." There's another small pause, as though she's considering whether to say something or not, before she continues. "It was a good fight, If I weren't on the job it could have been much more fun. I'll see you around."

Her piece said, she gives a small but theatrical bow, steps out, and disappears into the dark and the surrounding cityscape.

Cruach is quick to replace the small piece of her mask which she previously disconnected. The sudden weight is enough to make her stumble slightly, a motion which she smoothly transitions into a turn and crouch, covering most of her body behind the shield. The arrow strikes true, but instead of transferring the force to Cruach's arm and shoulder the shield shatters, taking the energy of the blow with it in much the same way a crumple zone on a car would.

"So that's how you want to play it. So quick to use deadly force. Some hero you are." She sounds almost disappointment, no hints of anger or pain in her tone whatsoever.

She rises from her crouch in a smooth motion, one hand going to each knee and in a quick motion tearing seams which were intentionally left weak, allowing the bottom part of the pant legs to fall away, taking the remaining hardened blood with it. Underneath is what looks to be form fitting fabric, probably legging of some sort.

The same small tendrils as before accumulate in the center of one of her palms, forming a sphere slightly larger than a baseball. She steps out of the discarded pieces of her costume, turns, and throws the sphere in one smooth motion, her arm bending in ways an arm really shouldn't tom impart extra speed into it. The sphere would fly straight, aimed for Wound's upper torso. Cruach doesn't wait to see if it hits or not, turning and continuing her run towards the exit.

Should the sphere strike true, it would pop like a water balloon, releasing a foul smelling, dark colored, viscous fluid. The fluid would begin to harden into stringy masses immediately on contact with the air, likely restricting movement, and potentially binding limbs.

"Impressive. I'm glad we're on the same side." The slight head tilt remains, and the sense that she's being studied would be relatively apparent to Hydra.

Her head un-tilts following the display, and her posture would convey a small amount of bemusement. The moth creature flutters off of her hand and lands on the table in front of Hydra; if a hand is extended or it is otherwise prompted, it would climb on and allow itself to be examined. "They mostly help with situational awareness. I'm sure you know how useful having multiple sets of sense can be. Besides that, they're an alright distraction and not much else. They're almost identical to a regular moth." She gives a small shrug. "Not exactly the best form factor for fighting, even if that was the point."

"It's not really as simple as being a 'something-person'." She reaches on hand up to cup the bottom half of her mask, the other withdrawing what looks to be an energy bar from a pocket on her belt. The hand at her mask pushes a small hidden lever or button of some kind, and with a slight mechanical click the bottom half of her mask detaches. She lowers it and clips it to her belt in a smooth motion. "I'm just ... not quite human."

At first glance, what's exposed of her face would look to be relatively normal, though with the amount of sensory power Hydra possesses, she would be quickly disabused of this notion. If Hydra were capable of experiencing the uncanny valley, she would likely be doing so. The skin is too smooth, the features slightly too sharp, too symmetrical. The breathing is off, too shallow, to even, out of sync with her speech. The teeth are ever so slightly too sharp, and it seems as though there might be too many. There are motions under the skin where there shouldn't be, as though there's extra musculature.

"Most ideas seem good until they're tested against reality. One of the best ways to identify flaws in a design is to put it through its paces in a real world dynamic situation. The same goes for strategies." There's a wistful sort of tone to her voice, as thoughs he's recalling better times. "There are problems with genetic imprinting. Biotinkers or changers might be able to spoof it, and that doesn't even account for whatever detection parameters or methods you use."

Despite what would normally be a rather disturbing display, Cruach seems unfazed, or perhaps even more interested than before. "What are you working on now?"

"If it's sparring or stress testing you're after, I'd be willing to help for a price and a few assurances that things won't go too far." There's a hint of excitement, well hidden but certainly there, at the idea of fighting. "The Tinker cycle should be fast moving, and with what you have set up here already I don't doubt you'll be a force to be reckoned with in no time."

There's a slight pause as she mulls something over. "I doubt visual of olfactory would work properly, at least if it's generalized. A key of some sort could work." Again, a slight pause before her tone shifts to something more commanding. "Imprint a response to a given concentration and ratio of aromatic or otherwise readily detectable chemicals. Make it as complex as you'd like. That should be consistent and recognizable enough without being easily spoofed."

"I see. I'm glad it was just a handshake and a faux pas then. I won't pretend to understand fully, though I do get it, I think." She seems marginally more relaxed, now that there's a degree of common ground and things seem to have been somewhat cleared up.

Her head tilts slightly, a rather bird-like expression. "I take it your on the upper end of brutes in some capacity, then?" There's a questioning tone to her voice, though it doesn't seem like she'll pry to hard if it comes to it.

"I'm impressed they noticed, though I suppose with that many sets of senses it's not terribly surprising." She holds out a hand and one of the larger instances of the moth-creatures flutters down to land on it. "I'm rather proud of them. You can take a closer look, if you'd like." It's clear the second sentence is addressing the extra heads. She extends her hand across the table, offering up the moth-creature. "Though I'm not really a moth-person. Sorry to disappoint."

By this point, it would be rather hard to see, barring enhanced senses of some sort. Should his mask allow him to smell, he may note a rather unpleasant odor reminiscent of burnt sugar and rotting fruit, though nothing that seems like an overt chemical weapon of any kind.

Cruach seems unhindered by the smoke, relying on her enhanced and nonstandard senses. The gland at the back of her throat finishes forming, the last few nerve connections finalizing. in a quick and practiced motion she raises a hand and clicks open a small section on the front of her mask in front of her mouth. An exhalation releases a stream of aerosolized fluid, a cocktail of enzymes and compounds designed to target and break down blood, if not completely then at least mostly, and fast. The stream doesn't hold much volume, but it covers a decent area. She aims it towards the blood splatters on her costume, hoping it isn't too different from normal blood in terms of its chemical properties.

The caltrops present a slight problem, but also an opportunity. She turns rapidly, arresting her momentum and taking off in a new direction with long strides, still juking somewhat in order to avoid being shot. Her new path takes her in the direction of the door, and it looks like she'll make it there rather quickly.

She notes him (presumably) drawing a bead on her. He must have some way to keep track of her through the smoke, and she'd really rather not get hit if she can help it. Her run slows slightly as she raises an arm. Small hairlike fibers extend through the weave of her costume's forearm, twining together and extending further and further, pumping out material at a rather alarming rate. In short order a decently sized round shield of some sort of dark brown chitinous material is situated on Cruach's arm, interposed between the likely path of the arrow and her most vital bits.

The cannisters go skittering across the floor, still spewing smoke, but now at least a bit further away. At the sound, Cruach swivels, rips another cannister from her belt, and hurls it in his direction. The slight pause, despite the smoothness of the action, means that she has to leap away from the desk to attempt to dodge the splatter of blood, and even then doesn't completely avoid it, ending up with her lower legs bearing a significant amount, and a few splatters here and there over the rest of her. The cannister would land quite close to the pillar he's taking cover behind, hissing and billowing smoke like the others.

Given the state of the desk, she gives up on using it as cover, instead electing to use the break in line of site to hopefully close the distance. She rushes forwards, still keeping to somewhat erratic movements, but both fast and quiet enough that it would be difficult to place where she is in the room without looking.

Internally, she begins focusing. The blood must be important for his power, and she wants to do something about it sooner rather than later. Tendrils writher, mass is deposited, and a small gland begins to take shape at the back of her throat.

If nothing else interferes significantly, she would be nearly upon his position by now.

"I'll leave the management of your powers up to you." There's the impressions that Cruach would like to be pinching the bridge of her nose, and isn't doing so only because her mask would get in the way. "This is business. We've been hired to do a job, and we need to work together, as professionals. Just because the stakes aren't as high as they could be doesn't mean we can slack, that's how things end up going wrong."

She pauses, leaning back slightly, forcing her posture to relax a bit. "Just ... You must know what strikers can do, how many powers are touch based? It's common etiquette in cape meetings. Pulling something like that with someone more volatile could land you in a very bad spot."

Cruach tenses as Hydra grabs her hand. She does grip back, hand solid and unyielding under the glove of her costume. The sense that she's sizing up Hydra as a threat would increase. Where before, there was little odor other than that of the background, there is suddenly an very apparent scent of mildew, black mold, rotting wood, and a tinge of copper. Cruach's costume shifts slightly, as though there's extra weight to it suddenly. The smell disperses quickly.

"A pleasure." She sits as well, with the same sort of inhuman fluidity. What can be gleaned of her posture isn't tense in the way someone nervous would be, but is certainly coiled, ready to move at a moments notice. "Don't do that again." Her tone is flat, a clear warning, and she lets the sentence hang for a second. "Just how new are you?"

"It was a pleasure to meet and speak with you as well."

She nods in understanding, and gives a small wave as he goes. "Take care of yourself, don't be a stranger."

She too turns and begins to walk towards to opposite side of the roof.

The moth creatures, designed to be nearly indistinguishable from regular moths, don't respond, instead electing to continue on with their moth-like duties of perching on walls and buzzing around lights. As Hydra steps into the room, Cruach stands to greet her(?), though she doesn't offer a hand to shake. As she stands it would be apparent that her motions have a similar degree of inhuman smoothness to them, though it's not quite as noticeable given the coverage and slight bagginess of her costume. her costume itself is well made, utilitarian with enough flare to make it distinguished and interesting, with enough pockets, pouches, and other containers to hold a decent amount of gear. She's quite tall, though not inhumanly so, likely a bit over six feet. Though her eyes aren't visible behind the lenses of her mask, Hydra would likely get the impression that she(?)'s being sized up and watched quite closely, the owl-like mask and slight tilt of Cruach's head only adding to the effect.

"Hello. I'm Cruach." It's not completely obvious, but it would be easy to get the impression that she's focused on the central head. Her voice is soft but carries quite well, and has a hint of some unidentifiable accent. "Please, take a seat." She gestures towards the table and chairs.

Cruach is glad that her reputation is good enough that she doesn't have to do the approaching for once. A small group seems interested in hiring her for an equally small job, just protection, patrols, and maybe a bit of intimidation for a couple of nights while they square away a few of their more sensitive operations. From her own investigations, they're not being targeted by anyone major, and they seem the careful sort, so there's a decent chance she won't see any action. The only potential snag is that they've apparently hired another merc (or villain) as well. Capes can be volatile, and not everyone is experienced or professional; that being the case, she's insisted on a meeting beforehand, to hash things out and get a read on the other cape. She's begrudgingly relied on the group for communication, and they insisted that the meeting be held somewhere they control, a side room in what looks to be a safehouse. The room is dimly lit and poorly furnished, though not in disrepair. There are a few snacks and drinks present, though nothing fancy.

Cruach arrives a few minutes early, is escorted in, and takes a seat in the meeting room. Her senses are focused on the surroundings, and a number of moth-like creatures are scattered throughout the building. Being careful about this sort of thing is what's kept her alive and in the game this long, and she's not about to stop now. Her gloved fingers tap a pattern on the surface of the table in front of her, though should she detect the arrival of the other cape she would stop, stilling her movements.

"That can't be good for anyone. I'll make sure to be quick about it." There's still the air of professionalism, but she does sound slightly more nervous at the idea of a Tinkertech parasite or other biological creation escaping.

"Fascinating, that must make for quite robust creations." Again, there's the sense that she's more interested than she should be. "Thank you for explaining what you can. I know most Tinkers have a difficult time explaining their creations to others, especially since I'm not a Tinker myself." She takes a couple steps back from the work area, posture shifting slightly as she changes the subject, glancing around the area. "Speaking of robust creations, I won't pry, but I'd hope you have significant protections on this area. If we're to be working together, I'd prefer to be whitelisted, if at all possible."

"Perfect." There's another small pause as she thinks things over. "I've been keeping tabs on a few people and organizations in the area, another set of eyes will help. If you get too antsy, there's always sabotage, if you're careful about it."

Her voice takes a harder tone, as though delivering an order. "We are not touching the PRT. Not tonight."

She turns, and begins walking in the direction she came in from initially, making a small gesture for Rocksy to follow. "What do you know about this area? Specifics, please."

She stops, slowly turning to face him, not making threatening moves. now that she's not in motion, it would be much more apparent just how tall she is, a bit over six foot. It's hard to read her posture given her costume, but she doesn't seem aggressive. As she turns, she begins speaking. Given the positioning, her hands aren't visible the whole time. Her voice bears some hint of accent, though it's unidentifiable. The tone is soft and even, but carries well such that he would have little issue hearing what she's saying.

"As good as any other, I suppose." There's a hiss, and the sounds of two metallic objects hitting the marble floor. If he were looking, he may be able to note two canisters coming to rest near where her feet used to be. She springs to the side, ducking low and minimizing the amount of area he has to aim at, moving faster than would be thought possible for someone starting from apparently standing still and relaxed. She's angling towards a reception desk, though her movements are erratic and sudden, she's never still, never where one would expect her to be, as she does her best to throw his aim off. On the ground where she was previously standing the cannisters begin to billow dense white smoke, it's clear that it will fill the room in short order if nothing is done.

Cruach sits on the roof of a commercial laboratory building. It's late, well after dark, and the vast majority of the workers have gone home. Those that are still there are in locations of the building far enough away from what she wants that it shouldn't be a concern. Security is tight, though, and she knows she realistically won't be able to get in and out undetected. that being the case, she's opted to favor speed, though she won't totally throw stealth to the wind.

She manages to get into the building itself with little issue. The problem arises when she enters the store room she had her eye on. She'd though she accounted for everything, but it's evident by the alarm that she missed something. She's on the clock now, and as such rushes into the room, beelining it for the object she's looking for, quickly stuffing it in a backpack which, while not usual for her costume, is still designed to fit in aesthetically, and turning to leave. As she does so, she spots what she missed before, a small camera in an out of the way, completely nonsensical place. Good. They'll know it's a cape robbing them, and hopefully won't get in her way.

As she makes her way out of the room, and ultimately towards an exit of the building, one of the people still there calls it in.

"Good." She leaves it at that, but her posture does relax slightly, and some of the hints at slight motion on the periphery of the meeting area cease. If Rocksy were to pay very close attention to the surroundings, she may notice what appear to be moths of various sorts where the hints of motion were.

"I can work with that." She pauses, briefly thinking over the options if they're to work together. Nothing too sensitive, and something that will actually put the other cape to good use. "How well do you know this part of the city?"

There's a quick huff, likely an aborted laugh. "Right, good. Important decisions take time, I won't rush you."

She nods. One of her hands reaches into a pocket on her belt and withdraws what looks to be a simple but well made business card. It bears her cape name, a phone number, and a handle to an online chat board which is distinctly not PHO. She hands it over. "Use the phone number for emergencies only, otherwise use the chat board, please."

Her head snaps towards the bird as he jitters, before returning to him. There are enough hints in the whole series of motion to tell that she's rather on edge, but is well accustomed to portraying professional calm.

She watches on in interest as he uncovers the table, and pulls out a small notebook as he begins talking. As he lists the equipment and materials he needs, she jots it down.

"I see. A lot of what you need is somewhat specialized, and will be noted for going missing. It won't be cheap, but I should be able to get it for you." She takes in his description of his process. "That sounds efficient, if a bit messy. How much direct influence do you have once the process is started?" There's a deeper hint of interest to her tone, as though she's already mulling over and extrapolating on the ideas presented.

She pauses briefly, conjuring a mental map of the area as he describes it. The edges of her mouth twitch upwards ever so slightly before returning it returns to its previous position, one could gather that would be something close to a smile.

"That's more than doable. Gangs and capes shouldn't be too much of an issue, barring a push from another larger group. The Police may be trickier, though I'll get you what I can without lighting a powder keg in your backyard." She pauses again, evaluating internally, and lets out a small sigh. "Information like what I provided is easily repeatable, though I will warn you I'm not a social Thinker, so don't expect me to pull personal details or blackmail material out of nowhere." There's a hint of emphasis on the word 'social', such that someone could maybe guess that she may be some other sort of thinker.

Cruach mirrors the single nod. "Much appreciated. I'm glad I contacted you when I did. Is there anything in particular that spurred on this change in policy?" There's professional interest in her tone, and not much else.

She mirrors this action as well, though the intricacies are slightly different. She cups the bottom half of her mask, and a finger extends to a point along the jawline, pressing upwards on a hidden lever of some sort. There's a very faint mechanical click, and the bottom half of the mask drops free. She lowers it to her side and clips it to a point on her belt. Her features seem sharp, and very symmetrical. Her skin is completely clear of blemishes or marks. Her mouth is set in a studiously neutral position. As she moves and speaks, it would become apparent that there's something subtly off. Her movements are too precise, and the way the skin moves suggests muscle where there shouldn't be any. Her teeth are just a little too pointed. The pace of her breathing, so faint as to barely be noticeable unless serious attention is being paid, is slower than it should be, and far too regular. When she speaks, it seems as though she doesn't have to pause for breath.

"Information is something I can certainly do. What are the priorities there, is there a particular group you'd like me to focus on more heavily, a particular subset of information you're more interested in?" It's relatively apparent that she's recalling what she already knows and coming up with some rough ideas as she talks.

"I'll avoid anything that will draw too much attention, but outside of that, is there anything I should stay away from?"

She watches with interest as he begins focusing on his work, pausing for slightly longer than would be comfortable in a normal conversation to take mental note of what he's doing.

"In the same vein, if I'm to be out gathering materials, is there anything specific you need that isn't biomass? I know some tinkers need rare elements or specific electronic components, anything like that?"

"True enough, though the fact that you've chosen to do so speaks well to the integrity of your organization." Her posture gives little away, though the slight turn of her head would indicate that she is paying attention to the waiter at least in some capacity as he leaves.

"Thank you." She pauses, as though thinking on what question to ask, while in fact casting her senses around the room and as far beyond as she can get, looking for anything amiss. "To start off, at least, I'd like to know what sort of work you need the most. Are you more interesting in holding what you already have, or expanding?"

"If it's a test of my fighting abilities you're after, I'll oblige." There's a hard tone to her voice, and it's clear she's quite serious. She takes a slight step forward, posture turning a bit more agressive. "Ask any cape that's been on the scene for a significant amount of time, they'll tell you something similar to what I've told you, if they have a brain between their ears."

"I've worked on teams. But I won't turn that offer down provided you show good discretion. The second I get a hint of funny business, the second you pull something, the second you don't follow a direction, I leave and you can cancel my meeting with The Hydra's Head. Am I clear?" She's pulled back, posture difficult to read, especially through her costume, waiting for a response as she contemplates the best course of action.

Cruach scans the letter a number of times, committing it to memory. Once she's satisfied, she folds it back up, slips it into the envelope, pulls a lighter from another hidden pocket, and sets it on fire. Only once it has fully burned away, the last embers going out where they were dropped on the rooftop, does she adress Rocksy again.

"I will hear what The Hydra's Head has to say in person, if nothing else. I will not be joining any group, however, and should they force the issue their problems will only grow."

Her head follows Rocksy's pacing, and she's subtly repositions herself such that she's in a good position to run or fight at any time. "Good reasons do exist, yes. That doesn't mean I want the full weight of the law brought down on my head, or the heads of any organization I work with. It's best to play the long game, to build a strong position, and they've done a remarkable job of exactly that. If your primary focus is the hobbling of the PRT, over aggression and outright attacks will get you exactly the opposite."

"Thank you." She nods, and her posture relaxes slightly. "Perhaps we should." She turns to adress the waiter, and in a polite fashion orders one of the specials of the day, not the most expensive, but roughly middling in terms of price. She waits for Sovereign to place his order before speaking again. "I'm glad you work to keep this place as it is, such a thing is invaluable."

She doesn't seem to respond well tot he display, though it's not a terribly pronounced reaction. She simply takes half a step back and her posture shifts to be slightly more defensive.

"Well, it seems like most of the details are covered. I'll be in contact, and come around at least once a week. Do you have anything you need relatively soon?"

"I'll keep an eye out." She pauses just long enough for it to be slightly uncomfortable, clearly thinking of how to word what she wants to say. "I'm less averse to that sort of thing than most, I think. If it's not something you want to do, don't." It's clear she's being genuine based on her tone and posture.

"Thank you. Though I would take what I say with a grain of salt, we only just met after all."

"That's something I can help with, if you want. I know a few places that won't ask questions that owe me a favor or two, and I'm stronger than I look." There's another nearly awkward pause. "No strings attached."

Behind her mask, some of Cruach's eyes follow the letter. There's a quick flurry of motion as she takes a step forward, bends her knees, catches the letter, stands straight, and then steps back to her previous position. Throughout the entire display, it would appear to Rocksy that she never took her eyes off of her. She brings the letter slightly closer to her face, turning it around to examine it with one hand, while the other withdraws a pocket knife from a hidden pocket on her costume. Should she perceive nothing to be off about the letter, she would open it and begin unfolding its contents.

"I'm a mercenary, for the right price I can be interested. That said, I'm not looking to be permanently recruited into any groups, and I'm certainly not interested in bringing the weight of the authorities down on myself for no good reason." Her voice bears the same sort of calm reservation it did before, no hint of exertion from the earlier explosion of activity.

She takes in the content of the letter, still keeping some attention on Rocksy herself, gauging her response, and filing away the given information.

"I hope you understand it's nothing against you personally, more a matter of principle. I'm a mercenary, that means that the more any given cape knows about my powers, the worse off I am, and the harder it is to earn my livelihood or even stay alive. My policy would be the same for any other tinker."

She pauses to consider something, noting the activity of the goop and indexing herself to it slightly so as to react more quickly should it make a move.

"If it's unusual biology you're after, I'm more than amenable to taking a job to get you some, just not my own."

Her sense are indeed quite good, and she notes the scents, putting two and two together with what he's said. It's an interesting detail, and indicative of the sort of operation her runs and person he is, though hopefully not immediately relevant to what she's here for.

She too makes no move for a handshake, and it would likewise be clear to him that she's studying him in turn. Her menu sits on the table in front of her; she's spent enough time going over it to know what she wants already, and doesn't want to disrespect the cape across form her by seeming distracted.

"My thanks for the hospitality." She pauses, seemingly holding back a comment, before responding to the rest of his statement with a nod. "I'm glad. Too often such things are left to fester, and that only ends badly for everyone. A level of class and professionalism needs to be maintained." She leans forward slightly, though she doesn't imitate his hand positioning. "That maintenance takes effort, resources, time which could be better spent elsewhere." She reaches a hand into a fold of her costume, the movement slow and deliberate as to not seem threatening, and withdraws a folder, which she slides across the table. "A gesture of good faith. I'm invested in a working relationship, in seeing The Court continue to occupy the space it does, as opposed to that space being filled with monsters."

Should he open the folder, he would find a rather professionally done dossier on a small time gang starting operations at the fringes of Court territory, engaged in much of what he would likely deem abhorrent, and certainly not connected to the Court.

Cruach takes the opportunity to observe the other cape, noting any potential gear or costume features of interest, and any specifics of her power that may be relevant or noteworthy. More moth like creatures spread out over the area, and a number of slightly larger flying creatures resembling dragonflies join them. All do their best to stay out of sight, and stay relatively still besides, conserving energy.

Satisfied with her preparations, she makes her way closer as quietly and stealthily as possible. If she manages to get within decent speaking range, ideally on the same vertical level, without being noticed, she would clear her throat to get the other cape's attention.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice is soft, but carries well, and her tone is that of professional interest, though there's a hint of accusatory danger.

Cruach stands a bit over six feet, her costume seemingly well put together and professionally made, with numerous pockets and pouches to hold gear, and flowing slightly loose fabric to allow for free movement. Her eyes aren't visible behind the lenses of her owl-like mask, and her posture is easy and seemingly relaxed; nonetheless, Rocksy would likely get the impression that she's being watched closely, sized up, evaluated as a potential threat. All in all, while likely rather intimidating, Cruach doesn't seem immediately hostile.

Cruach is on one of her usual scouting patrols. She's not looking for a fight or on any particular job, instead using the time to flex her powers and take in what she can of the city. The sensation of pushing her body, muscles thrumming but breathing smooth as she runs over, around, and through the various obstacles on the rooftops of this area of Denver. She's been frequenting this set of blocks lately, never the same route or timing, but certainly the same general area. She feels she's gained a passable familiarity for it, so when she runs across gouges in the brick that certainly weren't there before, her interest is piqued. She's yet to run into serious cape activity here, though she's been looking. She takes a quick pause to take in the scent associated with the markings, at the same time a few creatures which heavily resemble moths scatter from under her costume, spreading out through the area. With the trail found, and a concrete goal in mind, she begins the chase, following the path to the best of her considerable ability. Should she find the one responsible, she would hold off on making herself know for at least a few moments, doing her best to gauge the individual and their purpose here. Her approach is near silent, and from a direction where she shouldn't be easily visible, helped by the dim light and cluttered city layout.

And pick up the footsteps she does indeed. She manages to time the turning of her head just right, such that she's looking at him as he enters, but there was no sudden movement on her part. Her head tilts slightly as she takes in the entirety of his outfit and demeanor, the motion made all the more bird-like by her own avian mask. Her gaze follows him smoothly as he takes his seat, and he would likely get the impression that he has her undivided attention. She takes in everything she can before social convention dictates she needs to talk; the way he walks; the way fabric shifts across his costume; the smell of the whole ensemble, and the person within; his breathing; as he gets close enough, his heartbeat. She's looking for oddities, power related or not, as well as nervousness or ticks that could potentially give warning of foul play.

She nods as she's addressed. "No need for forgiveness, I was the one who arrived early, after all. If anything, I should be apologizing for using the time and resources of yourself and this fine establishment." Her voice bears the same unidentifiable accent and soft quality, while still projecting well. There's professionalism there, and a steadiness that speaks to a measure of confidence, though it wouldn't likely be immediately identifiable as such. The way she sits, her posture, positioning, all of it hints towards a sort of coiled readiness. Muted as it is by the concealment of her rather baggy costume, it would still be relatively apparent that she's seen her fair share of combat, and while not totally on edge, certainly isn't relaxed. "Likewise, a pleasure. I hope your issue was resolved well." The last statement is nearly a question, but not quite.

"Thank you, that is most generous." She notes the hidden door, and apparently nothing else. There's still the possibility of a hit squad coming through it, but it seems more likely that it's in case a meeting goes bad. She still remains vigilant and on edge, but feels a bit better about this meeting being in good faith. As the waiter arrives with the bread and water, she nods and thanks him quietly.

She peruses the menu casually, attention not wholly dedicated to it as she remains alert, the fact that the waiter remains drawing no small part of it, though this shouldn't be outwardly visible. Apparently with time to spare, she does her best to find something that will strike a nice middle ground, she wants to see what the establishment has to offer, not to mention that free food is always a bonus, but at the same time if this meeting is to be productive she can't look as though she's taking undue advantage.

She gives a couple of quick glances to the bread and water, taking in all she can with her senses to determine if there's anything off about them. Regardless of if there is or not, she'll wait to eat until Sovereign arrives.

"Better than nothing, though." She makes a slight show of glancing over the area, taking it in. "You've got yourself set up in a decent spot. If you take things slow and operate a bit more carefully, I, at least, think you'll be ok. The opposite is also true, of course."

She watches the pile of goop carefully, taking in whatever she can about it. The light radiation it puts off, if any; novel or standard waste products, airborne or deposited on surfaces; noise; heat; all of it. The endeavor is mostly caution, trying to gauge exactly what this thing is, what it might do to her, though there's no small share of pure curiosity.

"Then favors and what payment you can mange will suffice." One of her hands reaches into a small container on the belt of her costume and withdraws what looks to be a business card. It's a simple and elegant design, bearing her name, a short list of standard services and their rates, and a phone number. She moves to hand it to him. "You may not examine me." Her tone is stern and final. "And you'll have to give a very good reason to examine my minions. You'll forgive me if the idea of custom tailored parasites isn't something I'd like to deal with. I've seen what tinkers can do with even a small sample."

Cruach turns smoothly to the lady in the maitre'd tuxedo, nodding subtly after the explanation. The distance of the adress doesn't seem to bother her, and depending on height, she may tower over the lady, though if she does it's not something she uses to intimidate. She is respectful but concise, and as she speaks her voice projects well despite its apparently low volume, bearing a hint of some unidentifiable accent.

"Thank you. I hope I'm not too early. My mask allows me to eat, but it's nice to know you have those services. Would you mind if I take a look at the menu while I wait?"

Regardless of response, she enters the room. She spends a minute or two poking around looking for anything off; loose floorboards, hidden wall compartments, the smell of machine oil, explosive residue, blood or other bodily fluids, or anything else that wouldn't normally be found in a restaurant. No matter what she finds, she does eventually take a seat and wait.

Cruach has had her sights set on making an approach to the prominent villain groups of Denver for a while. Doing so is a necessary step to credibly establish herself in the new location, to start getting more specific, well paying jobs. There's an inherent danger to it, as per usual for any cape business, but as options go The Court seems like an excellent starting point.

She does her research, finding La Corte Regale with relative ease. She's suspicious, it all seems too easy, and so she holds off on establishing contact. She spends a few days doing more research, and investigating the place itself. Eventually satisfied that it's as safe as is claimed, at least as far as she can detect, she waits a few more days to put even greater distance between her poking and an actual visit. She's pretty sure she wasn't detected, but on the off chance she was, her caution may help. Finally, she makes the call, maintaining a professional demeanor as she sets up a meeting with Sovereign for a Weekend morning.

When the day comes, she arrives ten minutes before the scheduled meeting time, entering the back door as subtly as she can without unduly surprising the staff. Her costume is well put together and professional, that combined with her tall stature and the grace and ease with which she moves makes for a rather intimidating display. She leans into the impression of cool confidence and professionalism as she approaches the room where the meeting is to be held. As she enters, it's might be possible to discern that she's scanning the room with an eye for detail. Internally, she's noting exits, door and window placement, furniture, decorations, people, and more. By the time she's more fully entered the room, she's worked out at least one rough plan for escape.

She nods in understanding. "The shotgun approach only goes so far." She seems to drink in the information as he talks, paring rapt attention.

"Protection and time go hand in hand, though the balance tips as you get more resources and make bigger splashes. Do you have other contacts, friends in the cape scene, favors owed to you?" She pauses as he mentions how non-infectious his creations are, and then continues speaking. Her tone holds a note of bemusement for a few seconds. "I can cover protection, but I'm only one person. Unless you want to pay a lot more than you can probably afford, there will be other demands on my time, hence the questions about other capes you can rely on. With regards to gathering materials, that would be best handled on a case by case basis." She takes a few steps closer, still not in easy reach, but now in a more comfortable conversational range. "In terms of payment, I take money and favors, though I'll provide a sizeable discount to you compared to my normal rates if I can examine some of your creations from time to time."

"That's often the case with powers, but don't go advertising it." There's a tone of mild exasperation to her voice.

She breathes a barely audible sigh of relief. "Good, than you've avoided the worst pitfall. I know tinkers progress, but please don't change that."

Perfect. Like I said, I'm interested in seeing what you can do." She pauses to pay slightly closer attention to her senses for a second, making sure she's still safe and they're still alone.* "That being the case, what do you need most? Protection, information, materials, or something else? It'll all have a price, and the matter of what you're willing to pay is also something we should discuss."

As Freakshow makes the movement, Cruach's hands clench slightly despite her lack of visible weapons, and she takes half a step back to get into a more ready combat stance. The Dragonfly-creatures that have been circling at a distance since defeating the chimeras buzz aggressively. Her tone slips back to clipped professionalism as she relplies. "And what do you have in mind, once you have enough?"

"Good. But playing with biology, especially the way you seem to be doing, is a great way to get a lot of the wrong kind of attention. You know the rules about self replicating creations, I'm sure." She resumes a more neutral posture, still keeping a decent amount of distance.

"Yes, help. Protection, materials, information, among other things. That's my job, after all, but I'll have to get something in return. I can't just go offering my services for free." She notes the defeat of the chimeras, as well as the attempted infection. Those dragonfly-creatures that were in combat remain distinctly away from her, and she devotes a small bit of attention to monitoring them to be sure they're truly uninfected.

"I've been in the game longer than you, it helps to pick up a few tricks." The smile is apparent in her voice, though there's still that hard line of professionalism. "Like I said, I'm interested in your work. I'll take explanations of what it does, how it works, demonstrations, that sort of thing, as payment." She takes another step closer, nonthreatening, body language open. "Interested?"

"Good." She gives a nod and takes a small step forward. "No, not a hero." There's some mirth to her tone, but it's gone quickly, returning to professionalism and focus. "I'm a mercenary. You've been a bit sloppy, if even I can find you like this and you're worried about heroes doing the same. I can help with that, for a price of course, but that's secondary." She pauses, as though heavily considering before speaking again. "I'm mostly here as an admirer of your work."

Despite her apparent singular focus, Cruach hasn't slacked on her attention to the area. Anything close enough or downwind would be able to discern a suddenly present smell akin to bread mold, rotting wood, and damp earth. While her costume is somewhat loose and baggy, there's a subtle shift in weight. From a number of small openings fly creatures which heavily resemble dragonflies, fast, armored, and armed, they target the approaching chimeras with singular focus, doing their level best to hunt them down and rip them apart with specialized mouth parts, immobilize them with grasping legs, or disable them with caustic chemicals. Cruach doesn't comment on the results, whatever they turn out to be, besides a subtle quirk of the head.

She stands from her position on the roof, and in a smooth motion drops to the ground. She's a decent ways away from the door and the figure inside, enough that she'll hopefully have time to react, but not so far they'll have to yell to talk to each other.

She focuses all the senses she can on the figure, and the environment. Something under the hood of her costume shifts in a place where there really shouldn't be anything to move. She takes in the echoes, the way air flows through the area, the scents it carries, of the city and of the tinker. The skittering of legs, the buzzing ow wings, the thrum of machinery, all of it is laid bare to her. The darkness of the doorway is no impediment to her sight, and she does her best to size up whoever or whatever is talking to her.

When she speaks, the volume is low, but it carries well. Her voice bears a faint accent, not quite identifiable. "Are you Freakshow?" Her head cocks slightly to the side, a birdlike expression only emphasized by her mask. As he moves, she keeps her eyes firmly on him, though not all of her attention. She's alert for traps, creatures, anything amiss in the immediate area.

The first hints of sunlight are just poking over the horizon. The air has that early morning chill, and ass the temperature begins to slowly climb upwards, a slight breeze flows between buildings and over the city. Cruach has been staking out an area, the consistent oddities in what she senses and some research into the players in the city leading her to believe that there's an individual she'd very much like to meet here.

If he is indeed a tinker, he'll no doubt have security measures of some kind, security measures she'd rather not trip if she can help it. She shifts slightly, maintaining much of her stealth even as she draws an energy bar from a pocket of her costume and unhooks a small part of her mask to eat it in a quick and efficient manner. She goes back to looking for an opportunity to make herself known without being sprayed down with acid, infected with parasites, or just ignored.

"That must make things difficult. I'm sure you've noticed mine isn't exactly standard either, though I have the luxury of choice. Maybe if you put yourself out there in the cape scene a bit more you can find someone able to help? It's a risky gamble, but it might help."

She nods along. "I appreciate that, and I make a point of not lying while conducting business. That said, discretion can't be ignored. The way I'm positioned in the cape scene, the more people know about me, the less they have to guess, the worse my jobs go and the more likely I am to be seriously hurt or even killed." There's a twinge of anxiety to her voice, and it would be relatively clear that this is something she's given quite a bit of though to. "That said, you don't have to set yourself up the same way."

"Huh." She pauses, picturing what he's described, before nodding slightly. "That will afford you some leeway, but you'll still be starting from a not-great position. Like anything worthwhile, it'll take time."

She quirks her head. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"I don't make a habit of looking under or through clothes, even if I could. It would be a violation of both privacy and the unwritten rules." There's a hard note of deep seriousness to her tone when she mentions the unwritten rules. "Cognito-hazard? So if I see it I'll get a migraine every time I think about it?"

"Fair enough." She pauses as he continues, clearly caught slightly off guard by his admission. "I wouldn't go around admitting that to just anyone, but there's a lot that can be gained by knowing things depending on where you are or want to be operating in regards to the law. I could point you to some resources to get yourself started, if you're interested?"

Something under her hood shifts in response to the noise. "I'll admit, with all you've said and done, I am curious what's under the sheet. It doesn't sound or smell like anything I've come across before."

Cruach freezes, if only briefly. "If you can get away with it, who am I to stop you?" She shifts her weight slightly, a measure of the nervous energy from before seeming to return, if not as badly. "You've certainly managed to divert my attention." There's a slight hint of suspicion in her tone, and something under the hood of her costume shifts.

She sighs minutely, at a probably inaudible volume, and addresses Mechakoloss as well. "If you're here to investigate or monitor, I'd rather you be up front about it. If not, we can have a nice conversation and then all eventually be on out ways the better for it."

"Thank you, it took a while to settle on and to make everything work." She looks over his own costume with a slightly more critical eye, even as she takes in his words regarding his own aesthetic choices. "I hope I'm not in significant danger, being here." There's a bit of levity to her tone, and she nods along with his explanation. "Why not pattern the sheet a bit? If you're going to be interacting more with people, I mean."

She pauses slightly, thinking over how best to summarize what a mercenary is. "It's closer to being a detective, at least insofar as what I do generally, though by nature of being a cape and being involved in cape business violence is more likely. On the scale of hero to villain, it's somewhere in the grey area in-between. I could be hired to protect an important shipment for a company, and I could just as easily be hired to scope out a potential gang meeting area." Where there would normally be a pause for breath, there isn't, as she continues through responses to his questions. "There's an element of dynamic problem solving to it that manages to keep it interesting. Some elements are the same throughout, but no job is ever exactly the same as the last. It keeps me engaged, and it lets me use my power."

She seems similarly engaged, though there's a slight tensing of her posture as his form relaxes, it quickly abates. "What would you describe yourself as? In relation to the cape scene, I mean."

As Walker impaled herself on the spear, the mandibles of the cross guard would clamp down, small points hopefully improving its grip. She would likely be able to feel the tip break off inside her flesh, followed by a strange bubbling sensation as it began to dissolve. This would ideally dump quite a large does of muscle relaxants and sedatives into Walkers bloodstream. The mandibles should hold for a bit, giving Cruach the opportunity to wrench the spear sideways, attempting to throw Walker's balance off. The resistance from the mandible cross guard would cause the haft of the spear to bend significantly, before the mandibles would snap and allow Walker to continue forward. Cruach would use the moment afforded to her to spring sideways through the open door next to her and into a moderately sized room with a few piled boxes, and a notable lack of windows.

The attempted grab wouldn't be completely unsuccessful, managing to catch a segment the greyish armor on Cruach's leg, though this wouldn't provide a solid enough grip as it would slough off with a rather disturbing meaty sound. This would leave Walker holding a segment of armor, a seam having opened to allow it to slip free, the inside covered in a spongey sort of flesh-like tissue. The exposed section of Cruach's leg teams with the fuzz of tendrils as they go to work replacing the armor panel, the cloth of her costume only briefly visible underneath.

"I was hoping you could see reason, that this could be resolved without going too far, but this, this proves you're beyond reason, that there's no point trying to convince you of the truth.*

Adrenaline pumps through her veins, among other chemicals tailored to act as stimulants. She'd have to be far more serious about this if her opponent was so readily willing to be impaled, and still able to make such an effective attempt at an attack afterwards.

The armor on the rest of her body fills in entirely, including the replacement of the missing segment on her leg. The last channels, pathways, and glands finish forming in her hands and feet. She puts distance between her and the doorway, moving closer to the center of the room, her steps quick and well placed. Everywhere she steps, a flurry of fuzz and tendrils follows, depositing a carpet of chitinous, fleshy, something on the ground. Bladders swell and deflate on said carpet, and a faint hiss fills the air as a cloud of thick white vapor begins to form. The smell of must and decay only grows stronger as with a similar flurry of motion a light blade resembling a scimitar of bone and chitin forms in one of her hands, small sacks filled with some sort of fluid line the back of the blade.

As the vapor fills more and more of the room, she takes a practiced fighting stance.

"Mechakoloss." She pauses, committing the name to memory. "Nice to meet you." She adjusts her position, taking a few steps such that the three of them are in a rough triangle instead of a line. She's close enough that conversation is easy, but far enough that she can keep them both in view and isn't in immediate reach. "Not a blind date, as far as I'm aware at least. A chance encounter that I'm thankful for, though." Her head turns quickly, facing a space between the two for a brief moment. She stops, sights, and then turns more completely to address Mastress next.

"I suppose ... " She trails off momentarily. "Though I'm a bit more concerned with the practicality of it, that probably comes down to a difference in powers." It's clear that the display is getting to her in some way, but she's doing a decent job of maintaining focus and keeping the conversation at least somewhat professional.

Cruach throws the new orb, again fast and accurate, though with the bugs dying it may be easier to see coming, the width of the hallway would make dodging difficult. She aims slightly below center of mass. Should the orb make contact, it would pop. The fleshy membrane and chitin bits would wrap and tangle whatever they could before freezing in place, and the released fluid would begin to rapidly harden.

"You're not supposed to be here either. If anything, you have less of a reason. I'm not here to hurt anyone, but that will change if you keep this up."

Cruach springs backwards, doing her best to maintain distance. The fuzz of tendrils continues, armor plating forms over the rest of her body, thin and flexible for now, but rapidly thickening and hardening. It doesn't seem to slow her movements, at least not noticeably. Slightly shinier whorls and patterns begin to emerge on the surface. From her hands, the fuzz increases in density, and a haft of bone and chitin grows, tipped with a barbed point and a cross guard that looks to be made of mandibles of some sort. While the haft appears to be a similar greyish material to the armor, covered in the same slightly shinier patterns. The tip is a darker black, and has a noticeable more fibrous texture. Slight gaps around the tip and cross guard reveal the deep red of muscle. She levels the spear at her opponent, the stance practiced and fluid, adjusting easily to any changes on Walker's end.

Internally, the changes to her hands and feet are nearly complete, just the last few connections, the last few biochemical pathways, remain.

The insects are persistent up until those attacking are sucked in, at which point those remaining immediately change tactics, starting to buzz Walkers face and head, looking to block vision and cause discomfort. None ever land for very long, if they do at all.

Inside the window is a hallway with a number of small rooms branching off from it. Most of the doors are closed, but a few show what looks to be either storage or unused office space of some kind. There's another closed door at the end of the hallway, presumably leading to either a larger room, stairs, or something else. Cruach stands a ways into the hallway, next to one of the open doors, having presumably never stopped facing the window.

As walker comes through the window, Cruach throws the tendril balls in rapid succession, one aimed center of mass, and one aimed at the legs. The throw is fast and accurate, and the tendrils unfurl slightly in the air to increase their area.

"Now why would I do that? You may have interrupted, but there's still a job to do." The same fuzz of tendrils begins at her feet, starting to work its way upwards to deposit similar armor on her legs. The armor on her arms reaches her shoulders, but slows as a larger orb-like thing begins to form in one of her hands, this one bearing a fleshy membrane, ridges and bits of chitin, and seemingly filled with some sort of fluid. Internally, the changes to hands and feet continue.

Cruach stands at what looks to be a solid 6'2", and is not wearing heels of any kind. There's an unimpressed undertone to her voice as she responds. "That sort of thing might work on your usual villain, and I'm not here to knock a decent strategy, but I'd appreciate being at least somewhat professional here. You caught me at an inopportune moment, but that doesn't mean all standards should be ignored." There's a pause as she takes in the situation again. "Thank you for answering my question, though. I'm Cruach."

She seems to believe both capes, at least in respect to them not knowing each other. Her posture relaxes from a loose fighting stance into something simply tense. She doesn't accept the handshake, instead turning slightly to address Mechakoloss. "It's rude to eavesdrop, though I understand." There's a pause as she processes the attempt at a joke. Her tone is dry, but in an amused way, as she responds. "We wouldn't want that. Mind introducing yourself?"

She nods in response. "So you're a Thinker." The impression of nervousness increases somewhat, but she doesn't seem to be any more agressive.

She pauses, slumping slightly as though resigned. As she begins speaking, however, her posture straightens. "It's not a red herring, though it certainly isn't direct. Cruach was a name, or a part of one. Associating myself with the whole thing wouldn't have been a great idea, but the secondary meanings and theming fit well enough from a certain angle. The costume, practicality aside, is similar." She shrugs. "I'm a mercenary, it's useful to keep people guessing, to be careful. But sill, if I'm going to be going by a name and wearing an outfit for so much of my life, I'd prefer that it have some actual significance."

"And what of you? Hatman seems like an interesting choice of name, with so much else to work with thematically. I'm sure you can understand my curiosity."

Cruach straightens up to a rather impressive height, now that she's actually fully standing up straight. There's the impression that she's taking a deep breath, even though it's not audible and her chest doesn't rise and fall any more than usual. In a more confident voice, still at a low volume, but now projected and with an audible hint of an accent, she addresses the other cape. The projected confidence is somewhat undercut by little clues of her posture, the way her shoulders and feet are angled, the small motions of her hands, and a strange sort of twitching where there really shouldn't be under her hood. "Not quite what I meant, though I do appreciate it."

The moths disperse for the most part, though a few remain in position. A number head in the direction that Mechakoloss is approaching from.

Her head tilts slightly to the side as though she doesn't quite understand and is slightly suspicious of the words. The gesture is made all the more bird-like by her mask. "I respect that." There's a slightly-too-long pause while she figures out how to say what she wants to say next properly. "I'd like to know a bit more about you, if you don't mind? So few purported Heroes really want to help." Despite her words, her posture doesn't relax.

It's at this point in the conversation when a couple of the moths draw close to Mechakoloss. Cruach's head turns abruptly in her direction, the lenses of her mask conveying the intensity of the look just as well as an exposed face would, given the rest of her stance. She takes a couple of steps back and laterally, putting Masstress roughly between her and the new cape. A slight ajustment of her head indicates she's addressing Masstress. "Friend of yours?" The tone is even, calculating. Where before her posture leaned more towards frightened or off balance, now it shifts towards something more coherently combative. "You had me going there for a good couple of seconds." Something shifts under the hood again. A smell like mildew, rotting fruit, and moldy bread starts to slowly intensify. The way Cruach's rather baggy costume hangs shifts and changes, as though something is dragging it down.

"A clash of ideals, then." She muses.

As Walker moved forwards and upwards, clearly looking to close the distance, Cruach responds. The moths which were previously spread over the general area begin to converge on Walker, seeking to land on her, to distract, to obscure senses and so on. Being, or at least strongly resembling, moths, they can't really do much in the way of damage, but they can definitely be a nuisance and a surprise.

With her opponent hopefully at least somewhat occupied, the extra weight which seemed to settle within Cruach's costume earlier reveals itself in the form of a deluge of dragonfly-like creatures which rush forwards far faster than the moths. Should any make contact they would begin biting and stinging any exposed flesh, or failing that trying to chew through Walker's costume. Their moth parts are sharp and larger than a normal dragonfly, and while stinging would usually be out of the question, they seem to be capable of it, though it's only about as potent as a wasps sting.

If Walker was still able to make it to the ledge, she would be able to smell something resembling mildew, rotting fruit, and moldy bread hanging heavily in the air. A fuzzy mess of fine tendrils poke through the fabric of Cruach's costume around her hands, going to work in a flurry of rippling motion. A ball of writhing fleshy tendrils bearing barbed hooks and tipped in what appear to be stingers of some kind forms in each hand, while the fine tendrils continue to poke through the costume fabric higher and higher up her arms, depositing a layer of greyish material which is undoubtedly some sort of armor.

She doesn't throw either of the tendril balls, yet. Internally, she's more focused on starting a change in her hands and feet, small glands and channels beginning to take shape, though they won't be ready for a while in the scale of a fight, hopefully they help.

Should Walker make a lunge or any further aggressive action towards Cruach, she would spring backwards through the open window and into the building.

Her head turns minutely towards the approaching cape, though her reactions seem muted. She stares for a couple of seconds, before going back to looking forwards. In a voice barely above a whisper, she responds. "You're new, I guess. May as well humor this." She pauses. "It started mid patrol, drinking wouldn't do anything, even if it would have an effect." She sighs and leans back into the bench. "Don't know why I bother."

She takes a notable exhale and inhale. Something under the hood of her costume shifts. She freezes, and her head turns to fully face Mastress, as though focusing on her properly for the first time in the exchange. From the vicinity, a dozen or so moths descent onto Mastress's form, where the sit unnaturally still.

"Oh fuck." It's clear from her tone and volume change that she's shaken. She shoots up to a standing position, whirling to face the presumably still sitting cape, leans in, and (if not interrupted) plants a hand on Mastress's shoulder. "You're here." It's said as though it's some sort of profound realization. She removes her hand, taking a couple steps back, posture indication mild panic. "Why are you here?"

She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath. If walker had any kind of enhanced hearing, she would be able to discern the words "Fucking rush jobs, definitely collecting that bonus." She focuses back in on Walker, addressing her directly again. "The alternative is you going to find a mugging or something, there are plenty of those in the area and you'd be doing more good besides." Her voice is back to the even sort of vaguely threatening professional tone, but there's a hint of anticipation.

The baggy parts of her costume seem to droop slightly, and there's a vague sense of motion from underneath it. A total sort of stillness comes over her following this, her eyes fixed on Walker from behind her mask, her posture tense but unmoving, waiting poised for the response, ready to fight, to dodge, to move however she needs to move in the coming moments.

It's late, the sun has set and the air is cooling, aided by a slight breeze. Given that it's the middle of the week, and the sunset was a while ago, it's not too much trouble to find a small park that isn't occupied. A figure descends from a nearby rooftop, making its way near silently into said park. Cruach, clad in her usual costume, a set of loose clothing allowing easy movement, a cloak, and a mask resembling the face of an owl, all put together and themed in a rather cohesive and professional way, sets foot in the park and immediately begins pacing. She seems jumpier and more on edge than the situation would warrant, constantly checking her surroundings, and freezing at the slightest noise.

Eventually, she stops and sits down at a park bench. She holds stock still, apparently staring at a point in the distance, for a number of minutes. Motion returns abruptly as a number of what appears to be moths leave her costume to flit about the park, and she slumps forwards, mask in hands, before getting up to pace again.

Sweeping the building leads to a decent amount of cash, as well as weaponry and illicit substances. A check of the paperwork reveals that this is a distribution point of a relatively small time gang, a new one, but with enough of a reputation that there's a small reward for intelligence or capture of members. Looting wouldn't take too long, and a tip to the police would net a decetn response. All in all, not a terribly large reward, but not a very large risk either.

[END]

Cruach's gaze follows the motion of the arm, at first tracking it to make sure the motion isn't aggressive, then following the direction until she picks out the couple. She nods along with the observations, focusing in with her own senses to try and verify if there are any clues that corroborate what Hatman is saying.

"You do this a lot." It's not a question in the slightest, she's confident given the detail of the description and the interest shown. "How do you pick up on all of that? I can get some, but nothing close to the detail you have." She sounds impressed, and slightly nervous. There are a few shifting noises from under her costume as she changes posture, the weight shifting oddly. There's a slight rustling which doesn't quite sound like it would come from fabric.

"You're new, I can cut you some slack." She bends her knees a bit more, her bearing shifting towards the more aggressive in a sort of mirror of Walker's own. She takes a deep breath. "You get one chance to leave and pretend you didn't see anything." She tilts her head just so, such that the light catches the owl mask again, making it clear she's focused fully on Walker. "If you call anyone, if you let anyone know, the next time you go on patrol I find you." She leaves the statement hanging, implication clear.

Cruach cocks her head, as though in thought. She's doing her best to match this other cape to the description of any local heroes or villains she knows, and coming up short. Her outfit doesn't match the aesthetics of any particular gang either.

"You're a new indie, then?" There's the hint of a question to the tone, but it sounds as though she's pretty much sure. She's still balancing on the lip of the window, and now that she's talking she's gesticulating slightly. It seems as though she's keeping her balance with no issue whatsoever.

"I'm doing my job." She leaves it short and simple for now, watching intently to gauge the response of the other cape. "You employed?" There's a more prominent hint of curiosity in this question.

The sound of footsteps and the following scent of floral soap and blood all let Cruach know someone is there, someone who's likely to have seen her. Her head turns quickly, slightly further than it should be able to, if Walker were aware of that sort of thing. The rest of her body quickly follows, feet and hands placed carefully but with speed and precision to allow her to turn herself around and face down into the street while still standing on the lip of the window. What little light there is catches her mask, revealing the stylistic similarities to the face of an owl.

With Walker now in full view, she registers that the other individual is likely a cape. The dark and the loose nature of her costume obscure it to a degree, but she tenses significantly. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" She's not particularly loud, but her voice carries well, such that it's clear what she's asked even from this distance. She has some sort of accent, though it's faint and not immediately identifiable.

Walker's observation of the building would tell her that it looks like it might have once been work space, maybe a shop or office space of some kind. The lack of signage and other small clues point to it having been repurposed in some manner, perhaps storage, perhaps apartments, perhaps something else, it's not immediately clear.

Cruach scans the crowd as well, noting the various stalls and the surprising hustle and bustle. She nods in thought at the explanation of Tightrope's powers. "I didn't necessarily mean offensively." She shrugs. "Force is force, right? Shouldn't matter if it's coming from a fall or a fist." She turns to more fully face Tightrope. "Unless I'm totally wrong."

Cruach follows the direction of Tightrope's focus, searching for what specifically has the other cape excited, even while responding. "If you want to be a regular in the cape scene, you should fix that. It takes work to mold the established styles to one's powers, but it's worth it. If you decide to go the indie hero route instead of the mercenary route, the protectorate might offer training of some sort. Failing that, there are martial arts and boxing gyms, as well as self defense classes. Those won't help with the specifics of your power, but they should provide a decent basis if nothing else." She shrugs again, as though she doesn't put much weight on the suggestion.

She pauses, focusing intently on the churro stand in question for slightly longer than is probably comfortable before responding. "We'll have to be careful on the approach, don't want to cause a panic." She glances over the area as a whole again. "That said, I could definitely go for a bite to eat." She gestures to a side street. "Drop down over there and then casually walk in? Or do you want to make a show of it?"

Cruach is perched on the edge of a roof, staring intently at the second floor window of an adjacent building. It's late, closing in on midnight, and while the street lights in this area are more often broken than not, she has no issue seeing. A number of moths flit through the dark, landing on the observed building briefly before repositioning themselves.

With a satisfied nod to herself, Cruach takes a couple of steps back, and then sprints forwards, launching herself off the roof. Her trajectory is such that her fingers catch the lip of the window she was looking at, her legs positioned so she can dig her toes into cracks and crevices in thew all tog et further purchase. The whole action is smooth and almost practiced, but she still takes a second to make sure her position is stable. Satisfied, she moves a hand over so that it's aligned with the middle of the window. Tendrils extend, out through the fiber of her glove, worming their way through the slight gap under the window. The come together, mass pumping through them to be deposited as muscle and chitin. It's a quick and dirty solution, minimal artistry and maximal utility. Small spurs of chitin provide bracing and leverage, and the muscle works at the latch. The window opens, the tendrils withdraw, and Cruach hoists herself up, looking around and listening intently before she goes any further.

There's a subtle shift in bearing, in costume positioning and the way things move and hang in the slight breeze. The faint sounds of flesh moving, of wings and legs and other such parts shifting and settling is briefly apparent. A faint smell, of chitin, but also of rot and decay, of old waterlogged wood and overripe fruit, of odd organic compounds, some novel some not, would be apparent for a brief moment before being blown away by the wind. The moment is over quickly, the silence returns, though not quite as all encompassing. With some evaluation, it would be deducible that there's more mass under the costume than previously.

"It brings the look together. Most call me Cruach." She cocks her head slightly, following the motion of the limb closely, though she seems to be paying slightly less rapt attention than before, likely committing the name to memory. "What brings you here tonight?" Her tone is even, hinting at idle curiosity, and her body language stays as consistently unreadable as it has been.

Where before her posture indicated calm interest and a general sort of laid back professionalism, now it shifts to something more combative, more angry. Her head follows the flight of the other cape, evaluating angles, motion, and everything she'll need to have at her fingertips if a fight breaks out. A dozen ideas flash past her minds eye. She loosens her hands.

"Neat trick." Her voice is flat and hard, accent gone, tone gone. "You're not the only one who can hurt people regardless of strength." She turns on her heel and begins walking away. Something shifts under her hood. Her posture doesn't relax.

Cruach continues her gradual approach, only stopping once they share a rooftop. She's deliberate in her positioning, taking a nonthreatening posture while maintaining enough distance that she should be out of reach, and even if she isn't she'll have enough time to react if the other cape lunges or makes any other aggressive move.

With that many sensory organs trained on a singular focus, it would be apparent to Hatman with a bit of deduction that Cruach departs from the norm of human physiology in a number of rather major ways. Her breathing doesn't follow the normal pattern, her chest doesn't rise and fall, expand and contract, as it should. The usual noises of motion, the shifting of cloth, the creaking of joints, all of it is muted if not totally absent.

Cruach examines him in turn. Something shifts under her hood, a brief motion where usually there wouldn't be any. Behind her mask, her eyes follow the motion of the limb, the hat, the fabric, everything. She listens for what she's familiar with, respiration, heartbeat, motion. She feels, the open environment and distance leaves something to be desired in terms of acuity, but the motions produce currents, eddies in the air. She sees what she needs to, the flash and ripple of the fabric in segments of the EM spectrum most people will never get to experience, the heat of whatever is under the sheet, the invisible patterns of the limb. She tastes the air evens as she feels it, the chemical waste of the city a usual background she can block out in favor of the enigma in front of her.

Her head quirks at the greeting. "Hello." She pauses, evaluating his voice and actions. "Nice hat." Her voice is smooth and even, quiet, but it carries well. There's some sort of accent, faint and strange enough to be relatively unidentifiable. It doesn't seem like she needs to pause for breath.

Cruach thrums with energy. Despite her awareness, despite her control, she just can't seem to sit still. A bouncing leg, a tapping finger, a string of insect-like crawling things that die as fast as they're made from the inefficiencies. Nothing helps.

Her costume, stifling but necessary, covers her as she runs. Legs eat distance at a relentless pace, something no normal human could keep up with. She flows across, under, over, or around any obstacle. The flow state helps her focus, helps her work. Joints shift between steps, senses sharpen, parts of her costume that aren't so much costume twitch and move. The restless energy abates, if only a little.

So lost in her own power was she that she didn't notice the other roof hopping individual until she was only a few rooves away. She's quiet, and whatever this thing is, isn't. She approaches, cautious curiosity overriding nervous energy as she watches the limbs move and adjust. As she closes in, she makes a few deliberate slips, a couple missteps causing noise. Surprising an unknown cape or biotinker creation is never a great idea, but that doesn't mean she can't have some fun with it.

He splutters and struggles for a second, before going totally still as Atlas begins talking. It's clear the realization that he's facing a cape has him terrified half to death. He takes a second to compose himself, trying to breathe through his mouth, failing, spluttering, and then taking a deep breath through his nose before he finally slowly shakes his head.

Outside, Cruach makes her way down the walls of the building. She pauses her descent near a vent, and a few more moths fly out of her costume and into it. In short order she's next to the same garage-style door the dealer pulled through. She withdraws a small case from a well concealed pocket, and gets to work picking the lock of the normal door next to it. The process is short and in under a minute she's opening the door to step into the building with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what's on the other side of the door they're stepping through. She walks up to where Atlas is restraining the dealer, positioning herself to remain outside of the dealers line of sight, and addresses the other cape in a calm tone.

"There's no one else in the building, unless they have a Stranger." She pauses to look things over again. "It's late, and this operation seems pretty small time. Still sloppy, but makes our work easier."

Cruach, doesn't pause to look back, but seems aware that Tightrope is moving with or adjacent to her, at least for the brief moment that they're going the same speed. Tightrope quickly overtakes her, passing with relative ease given the tenuous grip physics seems to hold over them.

Cruach accelerates in her own way, legs pumping, arms moving, costume flapping. She quickly reaches the sort of speed that is typically only seen in short sprints, and then holds it, not letting the uneven terrain or the frequent jumps slow her down.

She gives a small nod in response to the wave, not slowing until she gets closer to where tightrope has decided to stop. She bleeds off speed quickly, and comes to a stop overlooking the same night markets. She takes a second to look over the scene and smooth out any wrinkles in her costume. After a show of physical exertion like that, one would expect her to at least be winded, but her chest rises and falls slowly and evenly, and she doesn't seem to be breathing any harder.

"Nice view." She comments, before turning to address tightrope a bit more directly. "Those moves you pulled would have pasted even me. If you can control that, you've got a decent shot against a lot of brutes." She sounds vaguely impressed.

While Cruach doesn't need to catch her breath, the pause does offer her a good opportunity to look around, assess where they are in relation to points of interest, and plan a decent route.

"Practice and all ..." Cruach trails off as well, matching the other cape. "Oh, not at all." She pauses for half a second as she works to put together a good answer to the question. "It's a use of my power, not the totality. Frankly, a lot of that was practice. You spend long enough jumping around the rooftops of cities you learn a few things. That trick you do where you use yourself like a lever, I couldn't pull something like that off."

"Oh, certainly. There are shortcuts everywhere if you know where to look!" It sounds like she's glad for the topic change. With a quick nod, she takes off across the roof, leaping and rolling onto the next in a smooth motion, casting a quick glance back to make sure Tightrope is following, and then continuing on assuming the other cape is.

Cruach returns the salute, following after at a more sedate pace once Atlas has dropped. She remains on the roof, positioned so as to not be easily visible from the alley below, and waits.

Shortly after Atlas takes up position inside the car, the dealer rounds the corner. He looks around nervously a couple of times, exhales briefly, and then goes about getting into the car and starting it up. His nervousness shows in his driving, in that he seems to be taking things quite slowly. Once he gets out of the alley he sticks to less busy streets, and goes either exactly the speed limit or slightly below.

Cruach follows from the rooftops, cutting across buildings and making leaps that no normal person could. She manages to keep out of sight relatively well, and despite falling behind a number of times, always seems to catch up when the car is stopped or has to slow down.

At this point it's well into the evening, the sun has disappeared over the horizon and the main source of illumination is street lights, which are sparse and no necessarily working in this part of the city. The dealer, having taken a long and winding route, eventually pulls up to a rather run down building. It looks like it may have been a warehouse or manufacturing facility at some point, but it definitely isn't any more. The dealer pulls around behind the building, out of view of the main road in the area, as small as that is, and then draws a clicker or remote of some kind from the glove box. He presses a specific series of buttons, and a garage-style door slides open, which he proceeds to pull the car into. A different series of buttons closes the door behind him. He lets out a sigh of relief, steps out of the car, flips the lights on, and begins the process of putting things away. It's apparent that he's not the only one who operates here, as there are a couple of other cars, and signs around the space of other people, though he's the only one in the immediate vicinity.

Cruach nods, continuing to follow the route the guy is taking. "Sounds effective, but better to use as a last resort. Situations like that get hairy fast." She slows her pace a bit, head still following the presumed position of the dealer as she lets Atlas catch up. Once they're side by side, she resumes her rather brisk pace. If Atlas were looking behind them, she may notice what appear to a be a few decently sized moths flying away and down towards the alley.

"He's slowing down." She takes a quick look over the edge, pulls back, and nods to herself. "The car's close. Up and around the corner." She gestures to indicate which way. "Stupid of him to park so close, but it helps us. You should hurry, I can distract him, but if he's this jumpy already I don't want to give him any more reason to be suspicious."

She nods in agreement. "The nice thing about this sort of work is I get to choose who I take jobs from, so hopefully it won't come to that."

Cruach seems a little bit suspicious of the handshake, at least for a split second, before she accepts. Like most of what she does, it's professional.

"That shouldn't be a problem, though I can't stay here all day." She glances out over the whole of the protest again, taking in the broad strokes of the situation. "It's better for everyone if this doesn't turn violent. Don't worry too much about money, for something like this, a small favor will do just fine."

"Flashy powers are good for shock and awe, don't discount that as a tool." There's a slight pause as she asses the best route. "If it really gets to be a problem, you could try to mitigate it with a different costume style."

Cruach breaks into what looks to be a dead sprint, from a relatively still position. Her timing is such that she can easily spring off of the edge of the roof in a fluid motion. The jump is longer than any normal person could make, but while she does lose quite a bit of height, she makes it. Her fingertips are wedged in a gap in the concrete, which she used to arrest her momentum. She doesn't stay still though, working her way upwards like it's a puzzle she's determined to solve as fast as she can. It's impressive to watch, but it also makes it clear that she's operating within what seem to be normal physics.

"I'll be able to keep up better as the buildings get closer together." She still doesn't sound like she's exerted herself. "Cool power yourself!"

Cruach doesn't seem to react to the lie, at least her posture and tone don't change, and she doesn't say anything about it. "Useful." She pauses. "Gasoline doesn't sound like a great idea." There's a bit of levity to her tone.

She gestures towards the alley to their side. "I think this guy is new. He shouldn't be this nervous after something as low level as a deal like that. Means he'll be sloppy, but also jumpy. You sure hiding in his car is a great idea?"

As they come to a gap in the buildings, she steps up onto the edge and springs over to the next roof almost casually. She's just as quiet, but from the way the material of the roof bends slightly, it doesn't seem to be a lightening effect.

"That's got to be unpleasant." She seems sympathetic. "You seem to be handling it well though."

"While it's nice to be recognized, there's really no need for that." The combative stance returns, as though her entire body is ready to move in any direction in a split second. Her hands curl, not quite making fists, closer to grabbing something that isn't there. Her tone remains the same. "If I were here on a job, we wouldn't be chatting like this." She snorts. "I don't make a habit of getting involved in politics like this either, bad for maintaining professionalism." She shakes her head briefly. "Noted."

"Fair point, and more power to you. Just don't expect me to join in beyond evacuating the wounded if things go badly." At this point her hands have uncurled, and she's loosened up a bit, though she's still far from relaxed, still ready to move.

"They're related, but it's more a functional use as opposed to the entire purpose." Her voice is significantly lower, to the point where it's still clearly audible, but only just barely. She's distinctly not whispering, just talking very quietly. "You could say I'm a Thinker of sorts, among other things." It's clear she's holding back quite a bit of information.

As they walk next to each other the lack of noise from her steps and general motion would become somewhat apparent,

"What about you, just metal and water, or other things?"

"Goes to show that more people should learn ASL." She sighs and shaker her head, disappointment evident.

"Fair enough." The hard edge to her voice is gone, replaced with understanding. "Useful ability." It sounds as though she's speaking from experience. "Cruach, nice to meet you."

She gestures out over the crowd, at the situation in general. "Is this usual for you, keeping the peace at these sorts of things?" She seems genuinely curious.

Cruach saves the contact, sends a quick text to give Tightrope her number, and then stows the burner. "Hopefully it works. Still shouldn't discuss details with them, but it's better than nothing, or PHO." She shaker her head. "No flight, sorry. I'm significantly faster than normal though, so hopefully it's not too boring for you." The tone that indicates she's smiling makes a brief return.

"We'll play it by ear, better to learn that way if we're going to be working together anyway." That said, she hops up onto the railing of the fire escape with deceptive ease, grips the floor of the section above, pulls herself up and in a single motion springs off and twists around to grab the lip of the roof of the adjacent building, onto which she easily climbs. She looks down over the edge at the other cape. "It's arguably more fun than flight, at least I assume." She doesn't sound at all winded, or even like she's exerted herself in the slightest.

At this point the drug deal has concluded, and each of the participants are walking out of the alley in different directions. Cruach begins walking along the rooftop, casually following the one making his way deeper into the mess of buildings and alleys.

"Whatever you say." She cocks her head, and her hood shifts in a way that it shouldn't. "He's on edge. We probably shouldn't peek over any more, or make any more noise than we have to."

"We can stick to burners then." She reaches into a well concealed pocket and produces what looks to be a flip phone. She opens it up, navigates through a couple of menus, and then rapidly presses buttons until she's made a contact labeled 'T R'.

"No problem. What number do you use?" She steps away from the wall and towards the railing, so that she's at a better angle to continue the conversation. "Sure. If we're going to be working together for a bit, may as well get a head start on it. Hopefully I can keep up." She returns the mirthful tone, however briefly.

"Thank you." She pauses. "I've been a cape for a while, but I still remember when I started out."

Cruach follows the approach of the other cape, demeanor remaining calm even as the sparks increase in intensity. Her voice projects well, even while sounding like she's speaking at a normal volume. It bears a faint accent, identifiable only as not from somewhere in the US, though beyond that it's impossible to tell. There's a slightly hard edge to it.

"I wasn't planning on it." She pauses, watching the display of power with the staff. "I heard the commotion, though it would be worth checking out." Her stance becomes slightly more combative. "Though I'd appreciate if you would stop using your power on me."

Cruach nods. "The denser parts of the city are better for finding a starting point. It goes more smoothly if you know the city, but you can kill two birds with one stone on that front by patrolling enough."

Cruach follows the motion of the leg with her eyes, posture turning slightly more defensive at the rapid unnatural movements. She relaxes quickly, but still seems a little bit more on edge than she was before.

"That's reasonable, though phone numbers are only a little bit better, especially if you're using your personal phone. I'd recommend getting a burner as soon as possible, they're pretty cheap, and very useful for this sort of thing." She pauses. "You should probably also get a PHO, regardless of the tracking risk. If you're careful about where and when you access it it shouldn't be too bad. A big part of PHO is that it allows you to tell your side of the story as a cape. Unless you want to stay a total unknown and run the risk of being labeled a villain, it's a good idea to advocate for yourself there."

She shrugs. "Just don't go trying to drown me if it's gone when you get back."

"Fair point, though not a trick I can pull, at least that easily. Rooftops are fast though, they let you move in straight lines. I should be able to follow. If you lose me, no skin off your back, if I can keep up, it'll be fun and I can provide a bit of backup." It sounds like she thinks this whole thing is relatively low stakes.

"I'll be sure not to, but if I have to pull you out of a hairy situation I get a cut of the profits."

Cruach gives a nod, slow and smooth, as though she's considering. "I won't pry." She pushes off the wall, standing straight. "Being small time is good, in this case. Starting out, it shouldn't be too different from being an independent hero. You go on patrol, find a drug deal, someone getting mugged, something like that, and you stop it. If you're smart about it, you can go after people who the cops want already, which gets you in their good graces, and makes you some money if whoever you've brough in is wanted." She gesticulates a bit as she talks, emphasizing certain words and phrases.

"It's hard to strike a good balance. It's not a great idea to go after capes, or the bigger gangs, but they're more likely to have bounties." She exhales audibly. "If you know the city well, it would be a good idea to take today easy and go out in the evening."

An idea seems to hit Cruach. "Do you have a PHO?"

From her vantage point, Wreck would most likely be able to see what is obviously another cape approaching over the rooftops. Cruach's not flying, but the speed at which she runs, jumps, and generally moves over the rooftops would be impressive regardless. She comes to a stop at the edge of a roof a ways away, such that she can see the protest, but isn't liable to be seen by the protesters unless they're looking up and back. She spends a few moments looking over the situation, just taking it all in, before she looks directly towards Wreck herself and cocks her head to the side.

She cuts a somewhat impressive figure, distance and angles not doing anything to hide the fact that she's rather tall. No skin at all shows through her costume. Her mask resembles the face of an owl, and her costume in general seems thematically matched and well put together. If Wreck were to turn to directly face her, or begin approaching, she would give a small friendly wave.

Cruach leans against the wall of the building, relaxing slightly now that she's pretty sure there's no threat of an imminent cape fight.

"It's not the silly." Her tone is reassuring and steady. "Especially if you plan on doing a lot of running around, being overheated is worse than being a bit chilly." She gives a small nod.

Cruach's head moves smoothly to follow the motions of the other cape, always keeping them in view. The focus doesn't seem malicious, more like a matter of course.

"I'm Cruach." She pauses, as though thinking. "I'm a mercenary, so take what I have to say with that in mind, but it's not a bad gig. If you don't have any contacts or a good reputation, you could start out with bounty hunting, but it's all a bit risky." She pauses again. "I'd honestly recommend locking down something solid outside of the cape scene before you try to make money off of it. Going into a cape fight with substandard gear is just asking for a bad time." She shrugs. "If you're hell bent on making money off of being a cape, I'd be willing to tag along on a couple of smaller things, make sure things go alright. Looting laws and bounties mean that you don't have to get into cape fights to make a bit of money, but I still wouldn't go that route if you have other options."

Cruach pauses for a second, then nods. "I wasn't planning on it." It's apparent from her tone that she's smiling, as though Atlas has told her a joke. "You sure it's a great idea to just leave that here? Might want to hide it or something."

Her posture shifts slightly, as though she's briefly addressing the alley, before returning to her original stance. "If you don't get tired like that, and you can go as fast as I think you can, you'll probably have better luck following him than me." She pauses. "Plus you found them first." She rocks back and forth on her feet a bit, the action just as quiet as her previous ones. "I'll tag along if you want, but if you want solo credit on it be my guest."

It's apparent as Cruach descends that she's rather tall, and that the rest of her costume has a rather cohesive theme and looks professionally made. If they were paying attention to her costume specifically, Tightrope may notice that it doesn't seem to be heavy or insulating enough to keep the weather from bothering the other cape, and yet she nonetheless seems unperturbed by the cold. Her motions are smooth, looking almost practiced, as she moves down the fire escape. Despite its rickety nature, she barely makes any noise. Once she's in a more comfortable conversational range and position, she responds. Her voice is quiet, but carries well such that it's easy to make out what she's saying; she has some sort of accent, but it's faint and odd enough that it can't be immediately placed.

"Sorry if I surprised you." She does sound actually apologetic. "I wanted to make sure things were going alright, you didn't seem to be handling the cold too well."

It's not quite clear where she's looking, as the goggles of her mask do a good job of hiding her eyes, but she nonetheless doesn't seem surprised by Tightrope's leg situation.

Tightrope isn't the only one out in the rather chilly weather, or the only one who favors fire escapes and rooves for the purpose of getting around the denser part of the city. A head pokes over the edge of the roof above them, bearing a mask resembling and owl's face, and a hood such that no skin is visible whatsoever. Cruach clears her throat in as polite a manner as she can, hoping to get the attention of the other cape without startling them too badly.

Should the other cape look up and not immediately blast her or something, she would give a quick nod and a friendly wave, before starting to climb down onto the fire escape proper.

"Fair enough." She shrugs again. She seems to be doing that quite a bit in this conversation.

"I won't say money's not a motivator, but it's not the only one." She looks down over the edge again. Her hood twitches in the same way it did earlier, made more apparent by her proximity. "Sounds like they're wrapping things up. Might want to limber up or something if you're goin to follow the dealer too. He's probably got a car around here."

"You pick up a thing or two." She pauses. "I wouldn't really consider myself a provider of sage advice though." She shrugs.

"Than two years? Yea." She doesn't elaborate, instead moving on to a question of her own. "Why'd you move, if you had the kind of reputation worth keeping?"

"Nice to properly meet you, Atlas." It's apparent from the way she talks that she's memorizing the name for later.

She's closed most of the distance, and is now talking more quietly. She glances down into the alley briefly, nods quickly to herself, and then turns her attention back to Atlas.

"Reputation can be a blessing or a curse." It sounds like she has some experience with this sort of thing. She pauses and shakes her head, refocusing. "You get a fresh start here, and now you have two years more experience." She shrugs. "Why not make the most of it?"