Winner: Go after him
Number of voters: 8
You consider your options for just a moment, grimacing as you try to quickly decide between the two most obvious courses of action that present themselves... but you finally push up from your table, throw some money down, and head out the door. The streets are busy enough, but not so crowded that you've lost track of your quarry. The man isn't even running or trying to make a clever exit. He's just calmly walking off to the East, like he didn't expect to be followed... or doesn't care. You hear the door open and shut behind you and Gwen quickly catches up to your side.
"Poole's settling the bill. Are... are we doing this?"
"I'm tired of feeling uneasy every time I'm in the city," you explain, "this doesn't have to end in violence, but I want answers." There's also a small part of you that's sort of offended by how nonchalantly he took Other Gwen waving at him. If you were stalking somebody, that would be a clear panic moment. But he doesn't care. What does he want? What could he want?
"Hey! Brawny Man!" Now that she mentions it, he does bear a passing resemblance to the paper towel mascot, with his red flannel shirt and grizzled mug. "You wanna talk, or do you just prefer to stare?"
"Buzz off, kid," he waves dismissively without even turning around. His voice is gravelly and harsh. You expected it to be warmer for some reason...
"Nah, you don't get that luxury!" She's not shouting, so much as being audible... but it is drawing the attention of a few other people on the street. "Stop and explain yourself, or I'm telling the cops."
He finally turns around, giving you both a chance to catch up. There's a look on his face when he first turns that you can't quite place, but it turns into mild frustration. "Just drop it! Ain't no law against--"
"Against what? Stalking teenage girls?" You're not sure pushing his buttons like this is a great idea, but you're trying to match Gwen's intensity.
"I'm not stalkin'-- RRRGH." He slowly squeezes his hand into a fist and exhales, clearly trying to keep his cool. "Look, you don't wanna turn this into somethin' it isn't. Just go back to your dinner an' forget you saw me."
"Or," Gwen folds her arms over her chest, "you can tell us what this is all about, and we can decide for ourselves what to do about it."
Things are getting a bit high-tension... "Maybe we can help you," you offer. "You seem... agitated."
He grimaces again, growling softly, but relaxes his clenched fist a bit. "Yeah... maybe..." There's conflict written on his face, but in the end he shakes his head. "Fine. I'll talk. But not out here."
"Of course not," you agree, "that would be stupid."
"Let's go back to the deli," Gwen suggests.
"Deli's too public," he insists, "there's a bar nearby..."
"Can't really do that, man. Neither of us are old enough to be in a bar."
He actually looks shocked by that. "You serious? How old are you kids?"
"Eighteen," you answer simultaneously. A ghastly look crosses over his face, but he shakes it off. "Jesus. Fine, deli it is. Let's just... be careful what we say, yeah?"
"You sound like someone with a lot to hide, Mr. Stalker," quips Gwen as you return to the deli.
"Pretty sure all of us do, Spider-girl." Now it's her turn to adopt a ghastly look.
The three of you return to the deli to find Gwen tucking into some fruit, yogurt, and granola, looking unimpressed as you walk in with your mystery man in tow. The money is still scattered about the table. It's honestly as though she hasn't moved.
"Didn't wanna come stalker stalking with us?" Gwen asks.
"Nah, I knew you guys'd be back," Poole taps the side of her head, "good intuition or whatever." She nods to the man. "Hey, bub."
He screws up his brows, but seems sort of amused. "Hey, yourself."
"Have a seat," she kicks out the chair, "ordered you the Mish-Mash and a coffee. Figured you'd wanna pick up the tab?"
"Yeah, sure." His expression is very flat, but not argumentative. He takes a look around the deli and sighs before sitting down. "So... where do you want me to start?"
"Let's try the beginning," Gwen suggests, "like why are you following us."
"Yeah, OK," he sighs. "I work for--- eh... used to work for this little group. We did... hm." He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket, trying to choose his words carefully. "We got involved in stuff that most people don't see. Mutant stuff, mostly. The kinda jobs that happen in the dark, away from prying eyes... in abandoned subway tunnels." He looks very pointedly at you and Gwen when he says that. Once he's sure the point he was making has sunk in, he breathes a long sigh and continues. "End o' last year our boss gets offed. Whoever did it snuck right past us, an' right back out... like they were never even there." He taps the side of his nose, "but they left their stink on everything. An' I followed that stink. Followed it to an empty little subway station, an' back out again. It was faint, but I kept searchin'. Was close to givin' up... ... but then you two started showin' up, with your pink-haired friend. An'... it was there. Barely, just barely... but it was there. So I watched for a while before movin' in... but... you don't seem like the types to do what got done. Not enough skill. Too warm-hearted. Been tryna decide how to proceed an' then... well."
He sips at his fresh coffee and relaxes a bit into his chair. The waitress as she brings him a plate of meat and eggs, then returns to the back. He looks around the table for just a moment, then grabs a knife and fork and helps himself.
Question Time! (Choose THREE)
[ ] Who are you?
- Likely to dodge the question.
[ ] Who was your leader?
- Likely to dodge the question.
[ ] Who else was in your group?
- Very likely to dodge the question.
[ ] Tell us more about your group.
- Very likely to dodge the question.
[ ] How could a scent persist on us for two months?
[ ] Do you have any idea who could've done this?
[ ] You think you sort of understand who he's scenting... explain what you know about Dr. McCoy.
- This option is the result of a successful Aptitude check.
- This does not give you any answers, but may help gain his trust.
[ ] Write-in