There are definitely parts of the city to be avoided as the afternoon winds down, and evening approaches. Not everywhere in Gotham is the Narrows, however. This is a nice little park in one of the richer neighborhoods. It's not very crowded on account of it being a colder Monday evening, and a bit out of the way
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He could find his way home afoot, and probably without too much trouble, either, but the light's just begun to shade golden, evening coming on, and he'd never make it home by dark. And he promised Aunt May. The park, with its ornamental bushes and sheltered nooks, looks like the perfect place to hide for just a moment to change.
Until he almost runs into the only other person here. And their- "... Geez, what is that?" asks the boy in the duct-tape mask.
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"Easy girl," Adrian says, quietly, to the cat, and keeps his gaze on the masked teen. The most likely scenario in his mind, right now, is that a mugger didn't expect the exotic animal and is caught off guard. That's what you get for wearing duct tape on your face, Peter. His expression is calm and somewhat stern. That's his answer, until the boy says or does more.
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He smiles. "That's all right. I put myself in a strange situation. I can expect the consequences." SO maybe that's actually a smirk. It's a pretty benign smirk, if it is. Not really smug. Amused. Curious.
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"Yeah... Can I, please, pet her? She's gorgeous."
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"Hey, pretty."
Seeing as how she's come from a long day of apartment-hunting-- having an alternate address is never a bad thing in her line of work-- it doesn't register at first precisely who it is walking the big beautiful beast. Or the kid with the duct-tape mask.
At first.
When the penny actually drops, she tenses up, edging in closer. Thief she may be, but senseless violence has always been distasteful to her. And amateur muggings often go bad.
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"That's up to her." Just because he trusts himself to have the cat around doesn't mean that he expects a cat to not be a cat. He's hesitant, but Bubastis is curious and not acting edgy, now. "You could let her sniff your hand." He holds his fist closed to demonstrate. Please do not offer your fingers like so many wiggling sausages. Thank you. "She's dreadful. If she decides she likes you, she'll demand all of your attention and make you late to your party."
He doesn't notice that they're being watched, or, at least, he doesn't turn his attention to the woman further away. He's keeping tabs on the person closer to the cat. His posture is not the sort you'd expect from someone afraid of being mugged, or of being seen in an odd situation, which is apparently the far greater danger.
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Inside, she is very definitely not going KITTY.
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"There are regulations and permits, and they're not house pets. She decided she likes me, and I already warned you about how that goes."
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"What's her name? Ah- I'm sorry, I bet you get all this a lot..." Sheepish he may be, he's still petting a lynx.
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"Hurh." It's a catlike noise in and of itself.
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"This is Bubastis." The lynx's ears flick at that, and she looks up... or just leans up her head to try to get her chin scratched, giving her handler squinty, happy cat eyes. "It's her job to meet people, so she will get this all the time. In a more formal setting. Hello."
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"Thanks, a lot. It was great meeting you, Mister, uh... and Bubastis. I've got to go, but thank you."
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