Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He walks over to the cannon, kicking it once eyes dup to the line of fire, a crazy look in his eye as he looks up to where it is aiming...He jumps back hands moving to his face...all he needs is gunpowder. He stands straight grinning like a manic, a small snort to a passer by hwho stared just to damn long.

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: ((dup=up))

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "Hey!" calls a feminine voice a little way away. Perhaps a little annoyed? Well, meant to grab attention from him, anyway. It's coming from the direction of the nearest railing, and is starkly absent of the 'typical' New Yorker twang.

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: His head spins round eyes looking about, grinning still "Knock, knock?"

Meg Psiharis [Night]: Standing at a full 5'2", Meg is fairly average for a youth. Summer has left her with a natural, deep tan that remains warm under all but flourescent light. Her dark brown hair waves and curls and frizzes down to just past her shoulderblades, all but bursting with highlights in the sunlight - red, and gold. Get close enough and you can see how much gold shines in her brown eyes, brought to the surface in that same daylight. Broad shoulders and a reasonably petite frame still can't mark her as especially feminine - not with the careless hair, the concealing thrift store clothes, and certainly not with the dreamy, introverted air. Studs pierce her ears three times each, though other jewelry comes and goes, including an endless supply of woven string or hemp bracelets. For now however, she wears bronze cuffs over her wrists, and a leather cuff studded in sea shells above her left elbow. Despite the weather and the dropping temperatures at night, she wears no jacket - only a small, aged summer camp tee she may have had for years now, and it shows. Her jeans are looser than is fashionable, and have actually earned they fading and fraying - a very rare sight these days. She doesn't really look punk. Just one of the hundreds of thousands of broke kids.

Meg Psiharis [Night]: She raises a hand and waves in his general direction. Get this - she's standing on the railing, balancing there for the hell of it. "Guy! You'll lose a fuckin' leg that way!"

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He snorts in her direction raising a finger to her "And who the fuck are you, Junior Cannon control!"

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "No! I'm here to present Darwin awards!" she calls back with a grin. She could as well paint the picture for youthful arrogance.

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He grins putting his hands around his mouth regardless of the folks walking by "Who the fuck is Darwin and did I win?"

Meg Psiharis [Night]: She grins, a laughing look and, apparently in a -friendly- gesture, raises both fingers to him in a teenaged salute. "He's the stuffy bastard that gives an award for death by stupid!"

William Halloran: The giant is out for a good night's walk...and from the looks of it, he may have seen better days. His froward has a bandage across it, and his right arm is heavily taped up as he makes his way into Battery Park, smoking a cigarette.

Big and scary. Those are the two best words to describe the man standing there. Standing a touch over seven feet tall, and easily weighing over 400 pounds, the man pretty much defines the saying “I wouldn’t want to meet HIM in a dark alley!” His hair, a dark brown, is just a little too long to be considered short, and is worn combed straight back, revealing his face...and that’s not a good thing. The right side of his face is distorted and misshapen, looking somewhat caved in at the cheekbone, as if from an old wound. The eye above is perpetually bloodshot, though the original green reflected in the other eye struggles to show through. He’s dressed in a T-Shirt advertising New York City Wrestling, a huge pair of blue jeans, and size 17 boots. His gaze is surprisingly gentle for someone as intimidating as he is, and the look he gives off indicates...loneliness, pehaps? ((Fame 2: Check Who's Who for Details))

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He starts walking over, thumb stuck through belt ""Says the chick thats balancing on the railings, you got spunk!"

Meg Psiharis [Night]: She grins, bobs a shrug, and glances aside before hopping down to the ground. Her chucks have seen a couple of years worth of better days, and are busily on their last. "I've got older brothers. They're bigger than you." She doesn't really offer her hand. She's just...warm. Not even so much disarming. Just warm. Her smile beams, and the scents are stronger on her - the laundry smell, the peach shampoo, the warmth pushes it out away from her. "I'm Meg. Hi."

Meg Psiharis [Night]: d10: Wits: 2,2,6,

Meg Psiharis [Night]: A pause, and she stands on tiptoe to squint over the blonde man's shoulder. Unplucked brows furrow gently together. "Holy shit, isn't that...uhm... crap, I know this. Serious, no joke - over there, guy? Jolly fuckoff giant?"

William Halloran: He looks up as he walks along, eyes passing over the duo that he seems to be approaching. Punk and teenager...he raises a brow and watches them as he walks along.

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He sniffs the air twice at her scent then looks at her a moment possibly trying to see if it a boy or a girl. "Meg....right....thats nice....what are you like 12, good work!" He sticks his thumb up, she had spirit

Meg Psiharis [Night]: She grins again - it seems a warm gesture on her tan face - and waves to Tall Dark and Intimidating as if he were not.

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He looks over her shoulder eyes homing in on William, looking him over with an impressed look "Fuck me, I bet he hits hard, I wonder if he wants a fight!"

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "Thirteen," she corrects, amused. "Call me Meggie, and I'll introduce your face to the pavement, friend. So hey, who're you?" Ah, the casual and laughable threats of physical violence over silly childish nicknames. She really -is- thirteen.

William Halloran: He nods to Meg, giving Bruce a wary gaze as he gets closer. "Heya," he says in his deep baritone, heavy Bronx accent.

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "Don't bother. That's Sa...no, Shaitan, I think. My brother's in to wrestling, and he's some big time for the little league types. Which means it's stupidly brutal just to get past the fact that they need to keep a rabid real-life fan base. He'd chew you up to pieces, slim."

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He looks round eye meeting hers "You got spunk Meg, but let me give you a hint, you can't take me, so don't even act like you could....Am Spitfire!"

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "Yo," she greets the big man with a casual cheerfulness. It's not really annoying, exactly. It just makes her seem somewhat puppy-ish, not too hard a stretch from wide brown puppy eyes after all.

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He looks about him, what fucked up set did he walk on too, 'rebellious all American girl on his left', 'big don't fuck with me but am a puppy dog honest' on his right and here was him. He chuckles to himself and looks to William "Who the hell are you, I know your face?"

William Halloran: ((Gaah. Deep BASS. Troy's the baritone...Will's the bass.)) A raised eyebrow and a frown to Bruce, as he talks shit to Meg. Some asshole's always gotta make themselves sound big. He looks away from the punk, over to Meg. "S'up"

William Halloran: Aaand back to Bruce. "Musta seen one-a my shoot interviews. M'a wrestler...Shaitan, here in NYCW. Bill Halloran outa the mask."

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "Oooh." She waggles her fingers at him in the mock-spooky way. "I'm so terrified! Your bleach! Your safety pins! Gasp!" Ah, mockery as banter. In an exaggerated feminine pose, her arms cross over her chest, fingers just barely touching her inward-curving shoulders. This rests above a hurt and vulnerable looking pout - at least she makes a good mimic.

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He looks at them both, just grinning away, looking at them, such a sad bunch but from the insult Meg seems to get his attention "Am sorry Miss America, or is it Mr?"

Meg Psiharis [Night]: Oh, the look falls away. Her eyes narrow, and there's half a grin. Sure she can see the humor in it, but she's still flipping him off again. ...Oddly, all ten of her fingernails are both bitten down to stubs, and bruised in a fading purple-black under the nail. It's healing. Just, well.. slowly.

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: Wrestler! Bruces grin widens, OHMYGOD...what a dare, what a set-up, him verse Shaitain, one of those hell things, with the wire! They would go crazy!

William Halloran: He stands there, arms crossing over his shoulders after the cigarette butt is flicked away, watching the two. A frown mars his features...he seems to be looking almost protectively after Meg, despite not knowing her. Silly giant.

Meg Psiharis [Night]: Meg seems to have a thick skin for insults, untroubled by either presence. She just never lets either of them face her back. She's the energetic type of kid, that much is easily apparent, and despite the ungodly cold of the season, she seems genuinely untroubled for neglecting to bring a jacket. "So hey," she begins, looking up up uuuup to the smashy-face wrestler. "this is the kind of thing mister big bad and woogy does on his free time?" Her smile is easygoing. Again, it could best be described as warm - her look is warm. Certainly, it's not -pretty- and won't be for several years yet to come.

William Halloran: "Who, him or me?" He shrugs. "I dunno 'bout him...I ain't usually big on startin' fights in parks...but I ain't big on lettin' others start 'em, either, if ya know what I'm sayin'."

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He looks to Meg then 'Bill' with the Mr Big Bad and Woogy line' grin turning into an actual smile, he seems to be amused.

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "No offense, but that sounds so funny coming from you." She's trying and failing to stifle down a grin. Her cheeks are growing pink with unvoiced laughter. "I mean seriously, Andy's gone on and -on- about some of your matches. It's pretty surreal to actually see you face to face - let alone hear anything close to non-violence. He wouldn't shut up about your match from a few weeks ago for like...three -days-. He only stopped because I tackled him and didn't let him breathe for a while."

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He looks to Bill "You want a fight?" He makes it sound like all Bills idea, shaking his head like he was 'almost' disgusted but grins "Who is starting fights now Bill?"

William Halloran: He says nothing...just fixes Bruce with a look that absolutely screams "You don't wanna go there, fucker."

William Halloran: d10: Char+Intimidation-WP: 2,3,5,6,7,8,

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: d10: Willpower: 9,5,7,8,8,3,5,

Meg Psiharis [Night]: Meg makes a face - not a wince, but the 'uh oh' that sets her jaw and pulls her lips apart and down. Breath hisses in between her teeth. "Hey, woah, yeah hi. Yeah, you're guys. If you gotta do the pissing contest, there are like.. bathrooms. Over yonder. Don't go whipping out the egos here in front of my virgin eyes."

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He meets that gaze not backing down for a second smirking in fact "Don't you get agro real fast, got to learn to stick it in low gear Bill!"

William Halloran: His frown deepens. "I ain't startin' shit here. He's the one who's all up in my face. Just tryin' to go about a night-walk."

William Halloran: His eyes, the green and blood-shot mismatch, don't stray an inch from Bruce.

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "Hey, yo. Calm down before a little girl beats you with the logic stick." She goes to elbow Bruce lightly, more a nudge than anything else.

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "...Is that too kinky for me to be allowed to say for the next five years?" she wonders aloud, looking toward the sky as if for her real answer to this question.

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: He looks into them eyes and see's what he wanted, suddenly backing down, not submissive as such just almost like it wasn't the right time, he grins talking like they were old freinds "I like you Bill."

William Halloran: ((Shit...I have to go right now, guys, sorry. Bill just shoots Bruce a look and wanders off.))

Bruce 'Spitfire' Freemason: ((NP, hope all is good Rav!))

Meg Psiharis [Night]: (( Eek! Have a nice time! ))

Meg Psiharis [Night]: "Cool," she notes as the would-be fight breaks down just that easily. The girl waves a goodbye to the intimidating wrestler, again as if he weren't.