2014-06-28 Live (Aid) from the Garden
This scene is rated Everybody
Warning: N/A
2014-06-28
Players: Mike, Ember, Farisa, Graydon Creed (NPC)
GMed by Random Acts of Spongebob
Title: Live (Aid) from the Garden

As news of the destruction caused by the unfortunate 'Gas Leak' a couple days ago. Efforts have already popped up with the intent of providing additional assistance to the emergency organizations already tasked to helping the survivors of the tragic event. With nothing booked for Madison Square for the day, the arena has donated the use of the space for now to assist with the collection of donations.
Through the outer lobby, tables form a circle around the inside of the building, each manned by a volunteer with boxes behind labeled for blankets, toys, canned foods, toiletries, and 'other'. The boxes rotate through this pattern through the whole of the table setup to minimize the time it takes to drop the donations in the right box. In one toy box, it is already stuffed with teddy bears.
Away from the supplies table is a series of cash donation tables where a certain rockstar is standing near. Hair pulled back, and wearing slightly better clothes than what he wears when 'off the clock'. It is apparent that Mike is here as his celebrity persona, Nick Drago.

Another face in the crowd of donators and volunteer doesn't have the 'Nick Drago' level of fame, but carries herself as if it's just a matter of time. A petite but leggy brunette in simple but stylish clothes, green eyes, and the 'no I'm not wearing any makeup' level of makeup has made the rounds of the physical donation tables with a cargo dolly and a couple of the more brawny volunteers. Many boxes of supplies get deposited at the appropriate tables, each time with the young woman taking the time to have a word with the volunteers there and help out a bit before moving on to the next in line. Eventually the cart is empty and she pauses a moment to get her bearings, looking for the last stop on the list as if she's gotten a bit turned around in all the activity.

As Ember makes the rounds, her motions back and forth do draw Mike's attention momentarily. Not necessarily for the makeup or choice in clothing. No matter how good it may be, but the sheer amount of donations is something of note. A brow lifts before he turns to a couple that are finishing up a cash donation at the table. Giving a practiced smile, he steps forward, to give them a form of acknowledgement for their donation and a handshake. Must be a damn good handshake.

The young woman stops to ask one of the roving volunteers a question and is pointed in the direction of where to go for money donations. There is an exchange of smiles and grateful gestures in the manner of a person who's familiar with working a press line but doens't want to draw too much attention to herself. She gets in line with others helping the cause however they can and when she's closer to the table starts to fill out a check while she waits. Then it's her turn and the volunteer at the table asks her name.

"Ah, s-i-o-b-h-a-n. Siobhan." Pause "No, no surname. I've never had one." There is a moment of embarassment as she says this. "I have a check."

With the couple placated and on their way, Mike turns his attention towards the next donor who is having a bit of difficulty with the legal shmegal side of things. He starts to approach the table, still allowing a bit of space for the volunteer and donor to figure things out.

Ember-as-Siobhan bites her lower lip slightly in an aparent nervous habit as she sets the checkbook down. A small adjustment to her ID, acompanied by a tiny shimmer possibly lost in the activity, puts 'Siobhan' front and center on the name and fudges the address a bit but keeps it otherwise legit. While the volunteer is copying down her information she writes out the check for five thousand, signing it quickly before handing it across the table. "I hope it helps."

There is a high pitched squeal as a microphone gives some nasty feed back. "Sorry!" The head of the local charity that takes care of misplaced persons gives an apologetic smile before bringing a microphone up. "I would like to thank all of those who have shown up to volunteer their time, their goods, and their money to better help our goal to make sure those affected by that tragedy are not left on the streets. We would also like to thank our Governor for stepping in to help secure our drive location. Governor Creed!" He does a bit of clapping, only to trigger more feedback.

Thunderous applause heralds the arrival of Governor Creed as he rises to his feet and straightens his tie. Extra care is taken to ensure the small American Flag pin is properly aligned atop the lapel of his dark blazer. When he approaches the podium, the places a caring hand on the leader's back and flashes a pearlescent smile.
"Thank you for the introduction." He remarks, lifting a hand to momentarily lower the crowd. "Lets have another round of applause for our charities and volunteers." Graydon encourages, joining the reception himself then lowering it with a somber frown. "Friends, we stand defiant in the face of another tragedy in a line of events that have struck our proud city. But we do not cower. We rise together stronger. Firmer."

And in the middle of the speech, some jerk's phone goes off. Don't you just HATE it when that happens? Oh geez, and it's a default tone too! Just what the hell?!
Mike glances down as he fishes out his phone, silencing it before looking to the screen. Grimacing, he scoots out the nearest door rather quickly. Nick Drago has LEFT the building.

When the phone goes off during the governor's glad-handing speech, 'Siobhan' looks over quickly along with a few others who weren't quite expecting such a disturbance here. Not that there aren't hundreds of cell phones around, but it's just not what you expect to hear at such a time. It takes her a moment to really notice who it is standing just a few feet away, and by the time she's gotten over her fangirl moment to the point of maybe even speaking (to Nick Drago…!), he's off and running. Another bite at her lower lip and then she's politely listening to the governor again.

Graydon scans the audience as he speaks, making eye contact and maintaining for several seconds with people randomly chosen but, in truth, not commiting much lasting memory to each face. "New York has faced adversity over the years and we have felt that sting within each and every one of our hearts. We will rebuild. We will ensure that those that have lost will one more have a roof over their heads. Together, we can help piece disrupted lives back together and, as a united people, make that life more secure than ever before." He continues, pressing his palms into the podium as he draws the oratory to a conclusion.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I ask that you look to your left and right. Beside you are brothers and sisters all. None of us, none of /you/, will ever be alone so long as the grace of humanity courses through our hearts. I thank you all with every breath I can muster and hope you all thank and support one another. Thank you, all of you, for being here tonight." He exclaims, lifting a benevolent hand to wave amidst the cheers as he excuses himself from the podium and moves into the crowd to mingle with his constituents.
You are empty-handed.

In a large crowd, commotion is everpresent and the gathering has attracted all manner of people from every walk. This in mind, the young woman pushing herself through draws few stares by her armoured attire several centuries out of date. What galls the crowd, sets them buzzing is her sheer rudeness when she begins to elbow them aside in her haste to make an exit, skinny arms possessing a mean kickback. Pulse beginning to race, Farisa visibly fights down her own panic and masterfully manages not to grasp the sword hilt belted to her hip. Just about.

Behind the green eyes of 'Siobhan', Ember can't help but be impressed with the degree of response to the speech. It's the first time she's been near any kind of politician, after all, and the part of her that's very keen on finding a way to muddy all trails leading to where she came from would not mind reaching that level of ease in which Governor Creed just spewed out such a huge degree of verbal manure. The cynic in her takes nothing at face value, but she still finds herself looking to her left and right and making that connection Graydon spoke of. It just feels natural and she wants to figure out how to get that good. The journeyman acknowledges the master.

The stir of commotion caused by the armored woman pushing through the crowd disrupts her musings as the domino effect ends up with her getting jostled and losing focus for a brief few seconds. For an equally brief few seconds the lights in the Garden dim somewhat then return to their normal intensity. Seeing the cause of all the bumping and shuffling, Ember rolls her eyes. "It can never just be a normal day, can it? There always has to be /something/?"

Hands are shaken. Hugs are given. There is not an insensitive bone in Graydon's body that anybody would know from the confident, vibrant governor happily becoming one with the common masses. That slick jacket is removed and handed to an aide, as is his striped tie. He reaches up to free the top button of his shirt then roll up his sleeves as he excuses himself to volunteer on the frontlines by assisting with charity collection.
The flicker of lights paired with a jostle of a crowd spark a degree of suspicion at the back of his head. A small, imperceptible distaste as he considers the source: a mutant. One of the secret service hovering nearby is ushered closer to receive several choice instructions before he carefully weaves through the crowd to inspect Farisa.
"Ma'am." He calls, keeping a low if firm voice. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave." His dark eyes skim the woman closely then fall to the blade at her hip as he considers how to best approach the situation.
You are empty-handed.

Single mindedness has its benefits, exception being tonight as the jostled crowd roll and sway, its collective volume expressing irritation that only climbs on recieving the agent into its fold before dying sharply away to part outwards. Leaving Farisa exposed to scrutiny.
Addressed directly, the woman lowers eyes that had been fixated upwards to train on the agent. Yellow eyes, to be exact. Not an encouraging sign. Nor is her slightly agape mouth, coupled with an furrowed brow that signals trouble in yellow and white.
"Heill?" She ventures after several long seconds tick past, vowels softly drawn out. "Fyirgef mik…I…" Tongue leaden and unresponsive, she struggles to string together a coherent line. "I would speak with your chief, your…leader?" Jagged memories reform, smartly snapping her muzzy consciousness back into gear. The power of speech and with it, blurred recollection on comportment that definitely does not involve her current white knuckle grip on a sword. Forcing her fingers to loosen, the pale face flushes slightly.

Really, she did not come here to end up in the middle of even more crazy! But with people moving backwards away from the yellow-eyed woman with the sword, and Ember standing still she ends up at the edge of the crowd about the same time that the Governor… in his oh-so-butch rolled-sleeves everyman mode, no less… sends his security agent to tell her to leave. Now that she has a good vantage point her eyes narrow as she takes in the new arrival's armor. Something about it it tickling at recent memory, but ending not quite front and center for this (in the manner of a boot camp soldier who gets 'volunteered' because when the drill sergeant asked people to step forward everyone else stepped back) puts 'stay out of the way' a bit higher on her mental priority list. She tries not to draw attention to herself and just watches.

Graydon is devoured by the crowd as attention is drawn once more towards the charity. The agent, though, clears his throat as he listens to instructions on his earpiece. "I'm afraid I can't do that, ma'am. If you are with Prince Thor and Loki's entourage I have been instructed to provide you with transport to Avengers Mansion."

Frustrated, Farisa is about to respond when the names register. Namely, Thor and Loki. An arm shoots out to grasp the man, hovering briefly in mid air then down in a clanking of gauntleted metal. "Loki and Thor? They…may be able to assist." Apart from the ancient armour, her unimpressive height suggests a non Asgardian. Particularly how unkempt in her present state she appears, on closer examination. Numerous nicks and stratches adorn her blade and greaves and the hair is decidedly bedraggled.
Forcing herself to regain a measure of poise, her eyes roam over the crowd. First overlooking the stock still female in her cursory inspection, then only momentarily fixating on the anomaly.

"Hey, he's just doing his job!" About four seconds /after/ saying this and stepping foward towards the armored woman with her hand outstretched in protest, Ember actually notices that she's not only done it but managed to somehow 'remember' to speak in the irish immigrant persona of 'Siobhan' she was here to establish in the first place. Some day soon she's going to have to put a brake on this whole 'acting before thinking about deciding to act' thing. For now she just stands a bit deer-in-headlights, looking a bit embarassed as the woman turns to examine her directly.

Some panic flares behind the Agent's eyes until he is released and clears his throat. The hand he had reaching for his gun relaxes, instead holding an abortive palm towards Ember. "Stay back, we don't want to panic her." He cautions, holding a hand out to beckon Farisa to follow him. "Come this way, ma'am. I will take you to /Thor/ and /Loki./" He explains, trying to slow down his speech so it is easier for the woman to follow.

"Yes. I am not…" The woman lapses into her presumably native tongue, that relies heavily on the letter k, averting the feral gaze in a rare possible concession to manners from 'Siobhan' towards the agent. He, she could glare at all day. Despite this fierce aspect, her tone lacks bite. "I will come. Do not…I am not going to hurt." Turning her palms out in the universal sign for surrender, she proceeds to grant the other woman a lopsided smile. After, all that remains is to follow the agent out, her mind deliberately shutting itself off from the assembled stares assessing her from scruffy head to toe.

When the woman locks gazes with her, Ember can't help but draw connections between her, Thor and Loki at the restraunt, and the 'gym teacher' she met at the academy. The similarities between their whole… presence… brings her pause and she can't help but muse over them as the tense situation seems to be heading towards a resolution. So she lets it alone, seeing if she can't ease her way back into the annonymity of the crowd.

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