08-29-2013, 08:11 PM
Rasmussen is observant and Gray gives no indication he is aware of this. Perhaps because he isn't but what is more likely is that She did much the same over the years he had been turned. Over the years that he hadn't. He was used to being watched for signs, signals, flaws and faults he couldn't catch. So when he steps to the Map and the broadness of the War-room's interior, it isn't with an appreciative glance around. It's with a glance across the cityscape and it's various inclusions and touches that Rasmussen and his cadre have thrown there.
His eyes dart, but not in scrutiny. Searching. Hunting for spot he thinks might be the loc-
"There." His finger taps in the Southern half of East Colfax, the bus routes few and the light rail distance. It is an intersection deep in the heart-pulse of what many might think a broken realm. Avoid at all costs. A 'Do Not Belong' zone where bullets are indeed, thrown and lives put on coat hangers, waiting to be used up. Gray is unabashed and quick to point out his mark.
"Old Complex building. Enough drink and bodies 'round to make it cozy. Any curious enough to wander down that street, don't got much to offer. Ain't friends here 'cept my crew. Most of 'em know a foreclosure 'n a street life is scarier than anything I got." A pause. That frown returns, remembering. "Least 'til recent. Lost a few to upstate relatives. Few more to the basement. Rest are living shakes and gnawing their nails off wondering. Second time in years..." A grimness. "Crew's wondering the same. Lost a couple in that swing-up." His head lifts to regard Rasmussen, frown something far more permanent now.
"Need me a few bodies to drag 'round the streets. Show 'em that scary can be tamed. Can be hurt. That I'm still their keeper."
He pulls his finger off the map, seemingly disregarding the rest of the landscape.
"So where's the fight?"
His eyes dart, but not in scrutiny. Searching. Hunting for spot he thinks might be the loc-
"There." His finger taps in the Southern half of East Colfax, the bus routes few and the light rail distance. It is an intersection deep in the heart-pulse of what many might think a broken realm. Avoid at all costs. A 'Do Not Belong' zone where bullets are indeed, thrown and lives put on coat hangers, waiting to be used up. Gray is unabashed and quick to point out his mark.
"Old Complex building. Enough drink and bodies 'round to make it cozy. Any curious enough to wander down that street, don't got much to offer. Ain't friends here 'cept my crew. Most of 'em know a foreclosure 'n a street life is scarier than anything I got." A pause. That frown returns, remembering. "Least 'til recent. Lost a few to upstate relatives. Few more to the basement. Rest are living shakes and gnawing their nails off wondering. Second time in years..." A grimness. "Crew's wondering the same. Lost a couple in that swing-up." His head lifts to regard Rasmussen, frown something far more permanent now.
"Need me a few bodies to drag 'round the streets. Show 'em that scary can be tamed. Can be hurt. That I'm still their keeper."
He pulls his finger off the map, seemingly disregarding the rest of the landscape.
"So where's the fight?"