[From
here.]It was not the hallway they found on the other side of the door. The crossing of the threshold was accompanied by that spinning sensation in the Scarecrow's middle- similar to feeling he'd had the night the doors were enchanted- and it was no mystery of why: they had been spirited away to somewhere else entirely. Decorated tables,
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Oh, think Scarecrow, think! There had to be a way! And while he may have considered his brain damaged goods, he knew from the look on Depth Charge's face that he needed to come up with something, or at least try to do so. He may not have been the one running the mission, but as far as he was concerned, he was the brains behind the operation. It was his job to keep an eye on Depth Charge- he was sure of it.
He put a finger to his head, the wheels in his head turning. "Maybe we can say it to where she'll overhear it," he said. "No one said we had to say the phrase directly to her, right? We could talk to each other and somehow make it come up in the conversation. I don't suppose we could fake an argument? That'd be loud enough."
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Maybe it was better to listen to the near-pacifist's suggestions first before they settled on anything that bordered on a kidnapping charge.
"An argument... yeah, that could work," he agreed, nodding slowly as he worked it through his processor. "It's pretty obvious that it's code anyway, so as long as she hears it, it might just work. And if it doesn't-" Well, they needed a plan B, obviously. Frown deepening for a split second, he finished, "- if it doesn't, I'll buy her a drink or something and see if that helps."
Depth Charge and the Scarecrow: honey-traps extraordinaire. So much for sophistication- or dignity.
The waitress returned with a tray before he could listen to the Scarecrow's answer to that- with a smile she unloaded two mugs of hot, dark liquid and a saucer of milk, telling them to call if they needed anything else before flitting off to the next guest. He blinked. So this was what coffee looked like?
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He looked into his mug. Unless Depth Charge had had more exposure to them, it was going to take all they'd learned of humans thus far to make their plan go off without a hitch. "One of us is going to have to talk to her eventually if we're to get the information we need. Even with a different name, I don't know how well of a human I make, to be honest- though I don't expect either of us has that much experience with it."
Bringing the mug to his lips, the Scarecrow took a sip from it idly- his face scrunched instantly as he recognized the drink from his meeting with Javert, putting the mug back on the table. Oh, that did bring back awful memories.
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Which was exactly what they'd be up against here. How 'alien' did he come across, anyway? It was already obvious that he'd have to drop the slang (now there was a lifetime's habit to break- he'd always been told to clean his voice capacitor), but there were so many little quirks he'd heard from those around him. Talking like S.T. was out of the question, so maybe like Peter...?
The Scarecrow's expression crumpled, and Depth Charge snapped out of his thoughts like a shot. "Is it-?!" Poisoned was how he was supposed to end that sentence, but the fact that the guy'd put it back on the table again almost instantly was proof enough against that. Stupid thought. Why would they poison them when they were in cognito still?
He settled back down into his chair, waving a hand dismissively before cupping it to his temple. Was that a headache he could feel making itself at home in his head? "Forget it." He sighed. "Maybe we should talk to her together- you know, to catch each other's mistakes." Mostly he just wasn't sure if he liked the idea of leaving the Scarecrow by himself, either with Rosemarie or in the wings.
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He gave a nod to the idea. "Together it is, then. I'm sure as long as we put our minds to it, there's nothing we can't do."
The waitress returned to Rosemarie's table for a moment to drop off her drink before leaving the woman alone once more. "I'm ready for an argument any time you are."
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And if everything fell apart this time-- well. He could still feel the cold steel of the gun pressed against his back, cold and hard against his skin through the thin screen of his shirt. One bullet, one more chance. He didn't like their chances, but when had he ever put his faith in the roll of the dice anyway?
"Took the words out of my mouth. Let's get this show on the road." With that Depth Charge smiled ruefully, picked up his mug and drained half of the liquid- scaldingly hot and bitter even with the sugar the woman had promised was in there. It was unpleasant enough to twist his face with distaste, which presumably would just add to the realism of the situation.
Slamming the mug down hard, he fixed the Scarecrow with his sternest look and raised his voice just a fraction. "Where do you get off, talking to me like I don't know anything about anything? I'm a professional." It only occurred to him afterwards that he'd never even heard the Scarecrow shout, never mind argue. This was gonna be a long day.
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Besides, if there was anything he knew Depth Charge could do well, it was look convincingly angry.
"A professional, are you?" he said as he raised his own voice, mirroring the expression upon Depth Charge's face. He leaned across the table, pointing a finger at his roommate in the most accusatory manner he could muster. "I can't imagine anyone would call you that with the way you act sometimes."
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Which, as it turned out, was going to be more difficult to do than to say; the truth was, it was kind of therapeutic to shout it out, even over some mystery business that didn't exist. He'd built up a lot of frustration last night.
"Well, maybe if I wasn't always covering for you, I'd have a better rep," 'Richard Browning' retorted scathingly. "At least I can do my-" wait, he couldn't say 'slagging'- was he hesitating?- "-damn job!"
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"You wouldn't have to cover for me if you didn't go makin' a mess of things in the first place!" he returned, getting to his feet as he pushed his palms into the table. "Can you only do your job when you're in trouble? Because you certainly go looking for it often!"
Oh, it seemed he was getting a little into the act, as well. He wasn't the type to vent his frustrations often, but that last line did hit him a bit close the moment it escaped his lips.
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It wasn't the noise the chair made that made Depth Charge hesitate, though. As fake as this argument was supposed to be, the Scarecrow had just made an excellent point. All he'd managed to do since he'd gotten here was get himself knee-deep in slag, culminating in the events of last night. Maybe if he actually did do his job better and kept people out of trouble in the first place he wouldn't ever have had to play hero to try and fix things.
It's just realism. You're just trying to make this look good. Don't take it personally, DC.
"At least I know what trouble looks like!" He was up on his feet too, now. "You wouldn't know trouble if it slapped you in the face!" But that cut things close too, and, wrangling into submission the bouquet of self-defense he had poised on the edge of his tongue, Depth Charge forced himself towards their goal. I hear your client... "Like your client base. Where'd you find those basket cases?"
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No, they weren't at odds. That's what that feeling was, the Scarecrow reasoned- this was too close to the chest in both a literal and figurative sense.
"You'd know a thing or two about problematic clients, wouldn't you?" He tried to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, but that feeling welling in him refused to back down. Still, they had a job to do- any hidden truth behind their argument would have to wait. "I heard your client has been difficult lately. You act as though you don't care, like not having a heart will help you somehow, and I can tell you right now that it won't!"
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"I know this isn't my business, gentlemen," she began lightly, "but maybe you should both consider your taste in clients. Before you chase everyone out of this cafe." She leaned back into her chair, smiling with amusement at her own comment.
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It was probably a good thing that the Scarecrow had dropped their key phrase into his side of the argument then- he'd have struggled to come up with a good enough rebuttal after that. And sure enough, mercifully distracting, their fish took the bait.
Rosemarie turned and smiled at them, throwing out a little wit as though it were wisdom. He'd have had a short answer for that at least, if they hadn't been undercover, but for the sake of the mission he reigned it in and went with natural response number two: looking suitably, gruffly embarrassed that they'd been caught out. "Looks like we got a little carried away there. Sorry about that," he said, lowering himself back into his own seat. He jerked his thumb at the Scarecrow. "I can't take this guy anywhere."
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The question was: now what did they do? They had her attention, but that wasn't enough.
"You can't take me?" he asked, turning his head back to Depth Charge a moment, still standing next to his seat. "You're the one who can't be taken anywhere." He paused for only a second, rethinking his words. "Though I guess if we're both acting like this, I suppose neither of us ought to be in public."
He turned where he stood, facing Rosemarie and giving her a rueful look. "I'm sorry, ma'am. You'll have to forgive us if we ruined your meal or anything- Richard and I just get caught up sometimes in our own problems."
It was another accidental truth, one that rang in his ears for several moments after he'd said it.
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"No harm done," replied Rosemarie. "You both sound incredibly stressed, though. Why not take a breather and enjoy your drinks?"
With forced pleasantries out of the way, she launched into the real matter. Obviously, these were the ones he had told her to look out for. Since they had so graciously dropped the code into her lap, the woman might as well follow-through. "Too much stress," she continued without pause, "will turn even an athlete into a guaranteed walking heart attack, you know. My ex-husband can vouch for that."
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You try watching a kid fight a guy to the death all night, being blackmailed into doing some ridiculous army supervillain's dirty work and keep up with some ridiculous code, all while pretending to be a completely different species and therefore trying not to out both you and your roommate.
He'd tried to ignore the Scarecrow's final comment, as if that could protect his mood.
Still, they'd reeled her in. Now what? Yeah, they were supposed to get the name of some client of hers, but how? They didn't even know what said client was hiring her for- bomb expertise, private eye work, fixing their slagging moped? That particular part they had to navigate all without letting her know that they were angling for info. They could play it safe and nudge her towards the right way slowly, but who knew what would set her off? Or how much time they had?
Depth Charge opted for a cool laugh, as if he wasn't silently churning with possibilities and the strain of caution. "You're telling me. Work's crazy enough there days without this guy following me around." He rolled his eyes in the Scarecrow's direction- affectionately, this time. "It's nice to find time to relax."
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