Why so Sad, Powerhouse? (IC)

[Flare Knight]

The man whose name was 'Powerhouse' when in his spandex, but was Tim right now, stared at the birds that flocked around his feet. He sat on a bench in Riverside park, a bag of bread next to him, and on the other side of the man, an untouched Sandwich. It was times like this where Powerhouse was glad he didn't look like some massive bodybuilder, because it made it easier for him to fit in. The Coat that covered his body hid his collars, but he could feel them pinching his skin. He just felt bad today, for reasons he didn't really understand. He had woken up depressed, gone into work and been told he was going to be working on a new comic by a Writer he loathed- all his characters were the SAME! Tim had to look twice to make sure he was reading them right when he read one character as 'big, tough, thick' and the next as 'tough, thick, big'-, and now he sat in this park feeding pidgins and generally feeling bad about himself. He didn't bother to touch the Sandwich, he wasn't really hungry, so he stretched out, but his hands behind his head, and looked into the sky, before blowing off a sigh. He didn't even feel like going jumping today, he just felt crumby- That was an utterly horrible pun and he knew it- and wanted someone to talk to. He didn't just need someone to talk to, what he really needed was good company, and the Pidgins just didn't help him with that. He grabbed another slice of the bread, and, with just a single, barely noticed, clench of his hand, turned the bread into crumbs and tossed it to the pidgins. The brown hair wig on his head swayed lightly in the wind- the best his money, and lack there-of could buy- and his fake green eyes looked into the sky, obviously avoiding the Sentry Statue.

[Moira Morley]

Yasmin enjoyed walking through the park by herself. The green grass, the red roses, the tall statues, the happy people. All of this she thrived on! She was making grass angels near the rose garden when something caught her attention. It seemed like someone was not happy! Why on such a brisk fall day would anyone be sad? She had to cheer them up. When she sat up she sniffed the air and followed her nose. It lead to a park bench. There was a guy just sitting there. Boy did he look sad. She slowly approached the bench, tiptoeing, hoping not to scare the park birds away. WHen she got here she stepped up on the bench and looked down to the sad guy. "Hello!" she said quietly loud, "My name is Yasmin." She curtsied and then kneeled down, sitting on her bottom legs. "What's your name?"

[Flare Knight]

Tim jumped as the woman spoke to him in his ear, something he had not been expected when he was feeding the birds and being silent. With a start, the man hopped in the air, away from the woman, and landed a bit farther away from her on the bench, which creaked. "My goodness, Ms. Yasmin, that scared me." he muttered, sounding like an old man or some such thing, and he shook his head, his hair giving the vaguest sense of unease and disconnect from his head as he did, to get that out of his head, but he was still polite even when startled, as he relaxed on the bench again. "My name is Tim C. Tricoas. I was looking for some company, as it would be. Do you wish to take a seat with me and speak at length? I feel having someone to talk to right now might ease my discomfort." He asked, patting the bench besides him and standing up for a second to remove the smashed loaf of bread he had accidentally sat on. "I just bought this today." he said sadly, before grabbing a handful of the smashed wheat product and tossing it to the birds. He'd just have to go shopping later.

[Moira Morley]

Yasmin was glad to see that he was not totally dead. "Nice to meet you, Tim!" she said gleefully, "Aw, of course I'll stick around. Any thing to cheer up a lonely soul. Everyone needs someone to lean on or talk too." Sheshe smiled and scooted closer as he requested. "Yikes, I'm sorry." she said in a thinking tone before an obvious light went off in her head. She reached into her coat and pulled out a lunchbox. It had a scene with a happy animated sun and rainbow on it. "Here, Tim. Now you will not go hungry."

[Flare Knight]

A grin briefly crossed Tim's face as the girl pulled out a lunchbox, taking it, he sat it on his lap as he looked at the drawings on it. "It is a pleasure to meet you too, Ms. Yasmin." He sad, moving some of the fake brown hair out of his eyes and looking back to her. "Sometimes I just need someone to ask for advice, not necessarily to lean on." He explained, tapping his fingers on the metal box in a long string of thumps, before stopping suddenly and realizing he had accidentally dented it in his distraction. Moving it slightly away from Yasmin in the attempt she wouldn't notice, he covered with a question. "If I take your lunch, you won't have one. Wouldn't that be bad?" He asked, confused.

[Moira Morley]

"Pish tosh," Yasmin said with a hand wave. "You're a growing boy! You need your vitamins." The bent lunchbox and her stomach were the last things on her mind at the moment. "You'll find a whole assortment of nice things in there. One fore each food group. It's very balanced and nutritious." She smiled and put her hands in her lap and watched. "So, Tim, what did you want to talk about? Is there anything I can do to help you?"

[Flare Knight]

Tim could only arch an eyebrow at the girl's statement of 'growing boy'- if only she knew- and suppressed a laugh only by smiling at the same time. "The fact you call me a growing boy is pretty funny, I mean, I think I'm older then you. I look like it, anyway." He pointed out, undoing the latches on the lunchbox and opening it slowly, he poked around for something he wanted despite not being hungry to appease her, and started from the top, the easier questions, then the harder ones. "Well...I work at Castle Comics." He started, then explained after stopping for a second to consider his words. "I work as an Artist, so I just draw the comics, I don't write them. But, just today, I got saddled working with a Writer I like, but have trouble dealing with his art style. His works are stilted, to me, and just seem to be the same four or five characters in a different outfit every time. He wants all his males big and muscular, and all his woman tiny and ridiculously proportioned. I mean, I don't mind drawing Dark stuff, but when the descriptions of two characters are the exact same, it just becomes a massive pain." He finished, pulling something from the lunchbox and taking a bite.