IC Inbox for Ryslig

[certaininequities]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, DR_OSBORN.

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<DR_OSBORN> You've reached Dr. Norman Osborn.
<DR_OSBORN> Please leave a message: I'll respond as promptly as possible.

Other Handles:
[Back2Formula] regular anon * [Pierglass] trolling anon * [LutinVert] Goblin/Alton Mode * [EpigaeaMemoriam] Support Group anon

Comments

[thegreatmysterio]

[Oh, Pierglass is. Very green. And has some very pointy looking teeth. It's. Hn. Yeah. Quentin may have done-well-diddly fucked up, and overestimated how prepared he was to interact with someone as monstrous as- this.

He should have bailed. Should have just had a laugh over getting somebody into a bar, and just- not actually shown up. Ding-dong ditched this shit, as it is.

Oh he is so out of his depth, he can feel the metaphorical water lapping at his neck.

...And Pierglass 100% recognizes him, considering he beelines right fucking towards him and the table he's at. Ha, he is. So fucked. God. In for a penny, in for a goddamn pound, though. He made his bed, and he'll lie in it until he can get the fuck out of here.

There is definitely a moment where Quentin can't quite hide his look of shock/surprise, before papering over it with some facade of vaguely interested politeness. Pretend everything is fine, and it will be fine.

Hopefully.]

Why, Pier, no fishbowl drink to split? I'm shocked. Though, I still appreciate the gesture. Quite the gentleman, aren't you?

[Quentin casts a very obvious brief glance around the bar, which is... definitely not the kind of place that would serve a fishbowl drink. It's not a club or other venue that'd do that kind of show-off thing. But... Quentin can recognize the opening for a joke when he sees it, as well as hoping that maybe the bit of humor can buy him some time to just- make an excuse to get out of here.

Being polite and joking a little could save his skin, right? Maybe?]

[certaininequities]

I didn't see any Mai Tais or Zombies on the menu, sorry.

[he quips as he takes his seat. yes, he'd started that conversation with a simple, easy need to just punch the man in the face. but on his way over, he realized that maybe it was good to get a proper measure of this sorry excuse for a man before he did it. let him think he'd reconsidered. get his guard down. learn a little more, so that he'd be able to protect Peter]

Listen, I - I let my temper get the better of me, earlier. Truth is, I haven't known Peter for very long, and he made a good impression is all.

[thegreatmysterio]

[Quentin can't help but snort a little. A Zombie would be a little too on the nose for this place, wouldn't it? But a Mai Tai... god.

He normally tries to stick to the Average Guy wheelhouse (beer, whiskey, bourbon, whatever), but that wouldn't be half-bad. The right kind of sweetness to offset the fact he's still a bit scared shitless, to be honest. Like hell would he expose that sliver of underbelly to this guy, though.]

Well, maybe next time we could try somewhere else, huh? If you want to, anyways. It's hard to find a good place for drinks around here. Good conversation too.

[Quentin smiles as pleasantly as he can manage, trying to spin this whole thing as- something. He doesn't think schmoozing is the right way to slip out of this, and flirting? Yeah, no. He's not going to risk his neck by pushing that far. But, look. It could be a bit fun to verbally spar with somebody, and have a drink now and then too.

And oh, is that a little bit of an opening to worm into? If Pier hasn't known Peter long... well. Quentin can work with that. Also, maybe he can get the guy's actual name, because Pierglass has to be just some username.]

That's one of the things the kid's good at, first impressions. But... [Quentin shrugs, taking a sip from the beer he started the night with. No offense, buddy, but he's gonna take his time.] Between you and me, things start to wear a bit thin with him after a while. Though you really must be close already, considering... [He makes a vague gesture with his hand, glancing at Norman casually.] He wouldn't tell just anybody about the, ah, 'fishbowl' thing, Mister-?

[He lets his question hang in the air, trying to keep things as casual and non-confrontational as possible. It is not on his agenda tonight to get eaten.]

[certaininequities]

Would be nice to have a little place that has a proper humidor, some top-level liquors.
Give people a chance to feel fancier than they do in a dump like this.

[he watches Beck like a hawk, lets him run his mouth off. he's dressed conservatively, bland, the sort of outfit carefully curated to not draw attention or betray anything about himself. but meeting in a dive like this means he knew he was expecting trouble, and wanted to be in a place where he might be able to count on others joining in out of the sheer promise of a fight. weaponized bloodlust, Norman thinks grimly. clever. he won't be able to confront Beck here, not if he's so careful about curating his image that he could use it to his advantage. mob mentality is a dangerous thing, even with the bar not as busy as it could be. so for now, he thinks, it's best to play the social angle. talk to him until he can say 'hey why don't we find one of those better bars'.

when prompted, he holds out his hand]

Jonah Jameson. I'm in the newspaper business back home. It's how I knew about the, uh.

[he makes a circle in the air between their heads. 'fishbowl.']

[thegreatmysterio]

[Quentin can't help his vague scoff at the mention of 'Jonah Jameson' even as he shakes the other man's hand. This guy is clearly not him, and while Quentin didn't subscribe to his conspiracy theory bullshit, he at least knew what Jameson looked like. Kept vague tabs on him as a potential viable source to 'leak' things to in the event of- things. Certain things he really doesn't want to think about right now, as he takes a sip of his beer to buy himself some time. Figure out how to not completely implode this conversation by accident.

The disbelief in his tone is practically palpable when he does finally speak.]

Jameson, right. I have doubts about that, considering- well.

[He sets his beer aside, crossing his arms and leaning them on the edge of the table. Acting casual even now as he lowers his voice to stay between them. Despite the hubbub of the bar, he doesn't trust that they won't be overheard.]

Between you and me, I don't think he'd end up mean and green. You know who I am though, who I was. So be honest with me, really. Who are you? What stake do you have in this whole thing with Parker? Or do you just want some scoop on Mysterio to win a Pulitzer or something when you get back home?

[Quentin doesn't really register the fact that Norman could be someone from another world, because why the hell would Jameson be in two different ones? Jameson's played by the same guy, even! At best, he thinks this is some news story guy in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Someone who wasn't fully suckered in by the footage he'd left for William to edit together. Ugh. Now he has to get his hands metaphorically dirty and try to convince the guy one on one how wrong Peter is about things.]

[certaininequities]

Alright, alright, you got me. I'm not Jonah.

[he winces, glancing around, clearly embarrassed]

I'm his assistant, Ted Hoffman. I don't want a Pulitzer, I just ... I wanna bring something back that'll make Jonah take a little more notice. Make me realize I'm not just - [how had Jonah described Hoffman that one day at the gentlemen's club? he thinks fast] - 'some whiny little twig in a cheap suit'.

[thegreatmysterio]

[Quentin lets out a huff of a laugh at that last part. Honestly, he could see the whole 'whiny twig' thing, just a little. It's hard to tell if the hoodie and dark jeans are an improvement over a cheap suit, or if Hoffman's in the same boat Quentin is: you take what you can get here, and vaguely hope for what you used to have.

...And, well. Quentin knows a thing or two about wanting to impress a boss. The only difference is that he knows how easy it is to get burned. How quickly they'll toss you out on your ass if you misstep, or want to write you off completely to steal your work. Poor fucker. Probably gets fucked over with every article he writes.

Quentin gives Hoffman one of his 'cardboard' smiles, pleasant with no real substance behind it, slight and vaguely amused.]

I've heard that one before. Been in the same position more than once, even. But- [He laughs a little, rubs at the back of his neck in a casual gesture.] I don't know what would catch the ear of a guy like that. I'm used to reports and the like, not so much... interviews. Facts are easier, y'know?

[The best lie is one with some truth built into it. He's used to presentations, rattling off numbers and figures and all other kinds of bullshit. Running every possible variable into the ground to make sure a plan is air-tight. And spilling his actual plans to this guy? Is a fucking laugh of an idea.

But he can probably spin up some tasty little bullshit for Hoffman to take back, if the guy ever does make it back.]

[certaininequities]

I get it, I get it.

[Norman nods, trying to remember what else Peter had told him about 'Mysterio', what parts would have been public knowledge. that asinine organization that superceded the military in Peter's world, what was it called - right.]

Uh, debriefings, right? You were with SHIELD. People like that are always about the facts. But you told everyone his identity - why? Weren't you working with them?

[thegreatmysterio]

[Ah, SHIELD. Those jackasses who bought his shit hook, line, and sinker. If he wasn't trying to keep up his whole 'inter-dimensional soldier' schtick for this guy, he'd let himself laugh about all of that. As is, hah. Time to get weaving on this nice little web of lies.]

I was with them, yes. But SHIELD had also been compromised by that point. Spider-Man was.. [A pain in his ass. A fucking nuisance. Ugh, he has to go for the polite option here.] He was the last of the old guard there, if I remember right. And they trusted him.

[Quentin smiles self-deprecatingly, taking a sip of his beer. Tries to go for the vaguely remorseful mentor vibe as he looks down at the table briefly.]

I trusted him. All it got both of us was stabbed in the back. I left that for SHIELD so they'd know. I don't know why it got further than that, or how.

[If- no, when he gets back, he's going to get William a nice system upgrade for 'leaking' that shit to the public. Just... genius, really, if Hoffman's serious about everyone knowing. Jameson was a backup plan, and to hear it went off without a hitch? Glorious.]