The Doctor and the Judge

May 05, 2018:

Tom is looking for a thing he carelessly lost. Vivienne helps despite Tom's unwelcoming nature.

Midtown Manhattan - New York City

Situated between 14th and 59th Streets, Midtown Manhattan is *the* tourist
destination in New York City. It is also the largest central business
district in America. Most of the tallest skyscrapers in the city can be
found here, from the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings to Stark Tower and
the Baxter Building. It's also home to Times Square, Broadway, and Fifth

In the day, the traffic is non-stop. In the evening, bright neon lights
light up the street such that it looks as if the sun simply doesn't set on
the city. But, then, there's a reason New York is called The City that Never
Sleeps. This, right here, is it.

Within midtown one can also find Central Park and access to the East and
West Sides of the city.


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

It's getting late in the evening, although the streets of Manhattan are filled with traffic still, making the place seem busy and thriving. On the sidewalk, there's less traffic, although still some — hurrying about their business. One such is Tom Judge — not really hurrying, so much as looking purposeful — the tall man dressed in a dark coat, a priest's collar hanging from his neck and a silver ornament swinging from his neck as he strides towards the parking garage entrance of a building, stopping abruptly and standing there, frowning. A car, trying to turn in, begins beeping furiously behind him.

And another person going about their day is Vivienne. She is, however, not really hurrig along. Much like Tom she seems to just be moving with a soft gait. S he seems to smile as she idly presses something on her phone and the headphones in her ears make her tilt her head with a smile. S he then bliks as the beeping causes her to take notice and she pauses to look at Tom and the car. She then approaches tom slowly, pulling a earbud out, "Excuse me, you are blocking traffic sir." She says in her usual irish lilt.

There's something about the tall man that is striking. A fixed-ness of purpose, perhaps; wholly occupied with whatever's on his mind, oblivious to his surroundings — Tom blinks and stars blankly at Vivienne when she talks to him, and then only belatedly turns, spotting the car. After a moment of hesitation, he waves off the car, "Closed, buddy!" he calls — an obvious lie, obvious to Vivienne, anyway — since the parking garage looks definitely open. The car's driver yells something obscene and then pulls away, the tall man relaxing marginally.

"Closed?" She asks and looks at the area inside and a guy inside looks out at Tom with confusion as well. She then looks carefully at him and seems to look through him before she considers, "What is it that you are doing?" She asks and steps up closer to him with a tilt of her head, "I am unclear as to what your purpose is here but you don't seem like a bad person."

"Nothing," Tom Judge says with a flatness that doesn't really invite friendliness and discovery. Maybe that's just a reaction to the way she's looking at him and the fact that she steps closer — he takes a step back, a sudden wariness creeping into his demeanor, like she's the threat. "I've got to meet a friend," he lies, abruptly turning and heading into the garage, long legs carrying him quickly. He doesn't bother glancing back — maybe he just assumes she'll lose interest.

A look over at Tom as he walks in and then she lets out a sigh as she starts in after him. She shakes her head slowly as she looks past him, "That is no mere toy you carry, young man. Why do you balk at the questions of others when you so clearly seek answers yourself?" She hmms and tilts her head as she follows him quietly, not seeming at all bothered by, well, anything.

His gait continues — at least until she makes reference to the silver object swinging from his neck — and then Tom's whole demeanor changes. "You don't want to go there, foul temptress—!" he growls. One hand makes a grab for the Rapture, curling it in his fist — while he turns sharply, backing away from Vivienne as he lifts it, squinting at her through the silver bars. His breath hisses out sharply despite the fact that the artifact's clarity doesn't show the demonic presence he was undoubtedly expecting. Then? He just looks flatly puzzled and not a little bit annoyed. "Who are you?"

"Vivienne Tulloch, and watch you are callin' a temptress." She nods her head, "I am a druid of Gaia and I don't really take kindly to hearin' that kinda o' talk about mah morales." SHe nods her head as she looks carefully at him.

While Tom's fingers still clench the powerful artifact, he does at least lower it. Something bemused creeps into his expression as she identifies her occupation. "Fine, fine. Your morals are amazing. Have at!" And then he's turning to resume his original destination — which seems to involve, weirdly — pausing every few steps and squinting up at the metal platforms above that house the lighting.

A blink and she follows after him, letting out a sigh, "And what precisely are ya doin'?" She looks up where he looks and attempts to see if she can sense or see anything. She then looks over at Tom before looking up again, "Perhaps I can be of some kind of assistance?"

At first it seems he won't answer her, then, grudgingly: "Lost something," he says. "Put it down, had a bad night and—" he makes a noise in his throat that sounds like something between a laugh and a snort. "Probably ought to not leaving it lying around." He pauses to squint upwards again. Maybe she can be some sort of assistance — certainly, she's more likely to feel that pull of something magical, off in the far corner of the garage, up on one of those metal light structures he's been looking at. Just not the precise ones he's been looking at.

A soft breath and she shakes her head. She then idly lifts her hand and then takes another breath. Nearby, he hears a sort of soft creaking sound and then slowly one of the spigots nearby turns and out flows water. She calls it over with a movement of her hand and then looks around. She then gestures it up and points, "There." She sends the water toward a corner of the garage, "It's over there…unless something else is in this garage."

Tom's still moving when he hears the splash of water, head turning sharply in that direction. When there's nothing alarming accompanying the noise, he squints back at Vivienne with something approaching wariness again. Still, she seems sure, and so, with a grunt, he heads in that direction, squinting upwards. A flicker of something silver seems like confirmation, and with a shift of his shoulders, he jumps up — hand reaching out to try and grab at the object — misses, lands, grunts in dissatisfaction, then tries again. This time, his hand clasps around the object, dragging it back with him with a hiss.

It's a sword — and it radiates something quietly powerful. Red runs down the shiny blade where it's cut Tom's hand, the tall man grimacing as he adjusts his hand to the hilt, frowning down at it.

"There, now was that so hard?" She asks as she smiles at him, "Ya offer folks a bit of information and they can offer ya help." She nods and smiles wider, "Glad I could be of assistance." She then simply flicks her hand and he'll feel the water hit his hand. A soft soothing energy will follow.

The way Tom's holding the sword, it's almost like reluctance — like he doesn't want to touch it. He'd distracted by it, too, such that, when that water hits his hand it's entirely unexpected — as too, no doubt, the sensation that follows. His gaze goes from his now-healed hand up towards Vivienne, a sense of that wariness in his expression, but perhaps lessened for all that. "Why are you?" he asks, abruptly. Helping him, presumably, though he doesn't say it.

"It's what I do. I'm also a doctor. Even to rude men who never introduce themselves." She shrugs, "Either way, you have a nice day, young man. I'll be on my way." She turns and starts off, "Do be more careful wth your blade, boyo." She nods her head and keeps walking.

"Tom Judge," the tall, thin man offers, if seemingly grudgingly, at her prompt. His hands rest, one over the other, on top of the hilt of the weapon, the sword facing point down into the concrete of the floor as he watches her turn away. Maybe she'll miss that scowling expression as she calls him 'young man' again, but she's a few more paces away before he says, "Buy you a drink?" his version of an apology? Maybe.

"Maybe another time, Tom Judge." SHe says over her shoulder, "It's been quite a while since I have ran off with a man such as yourself to a drink. For now, I have somewhere to be and I'm sure you do, too." She then waves a hand, "Take care, Tom."

Tom doesn't seem that upset, truth be told. Maybe even relieved. After a moment, he half slides the sword under coat — an awkward fit that is as much about hiding it as it is not touching it more than he can — before he, too, heads out.

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