A Frog In Manhattan

A Frog In Manhattan
Date of Scene:	20 October 2012
Location:	Manhattan - Twilight Detective Agency
Synopsis:	They say that sometimes the rain brings out the frogs. They like the water, you see. This time, one specific frog happens to come visit the Twilight Detective Agency...Scene Theme: http://youtu.be/xixTiB6tJTM
Cast of Characters:	Mercade Alexander, Prince Naveen

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Mercade Alexander has posed:
'They say that the rain brings out the frogs in Manhattan.'

'They like the water, you see. The water is fresh and clean, compared to the dirt of the city. the dirt of the people who live there. This evening is no different, here in the City that Never Sleeps. It was a slow evening. Will was out trying to spend the money again, and Deidra is asleep on the roof. As for me? I'm just reading one of my favorite books, my feet kicked up on the desk and some nice smooth music playing on the stereo.'

Mercade has a habit of internal narration sometimes. A day like this really brings it out for him, making him feel that hard-boiled detective spirit. Just as he said, he's relaxing in the 'main office', narrarating to himself while he reads his book. A cup of black coffee releases a deep aroma in the air, staining it with its rich fragrance.

All work and no play, after all, makes Mercade grumpy. And no one likes a grumpy Mercade.

Prince Naveen has posed:
A month ago he was living the high life. Women, money, people who laughed at his jokes, he had it all. Now he has none of those things, in part because he decided to show up his family name, but more importantly because he's a frog. But not a stupid frog. Since this is such a ridiculous, fairytale thing to happen the Prince knows with certainty that only a fairytale solution will work. But he needs Princesses, and lots of them. This is where some help could come in handy -- because what's he going to do, look for them himself?

Finding a private investigator was the hard part. Wait, no, GETTING to the private investigator was the hard part. The easy part, Naveen hopes, is articulating to the proprietor that he's not A) a Heartless or B) something to put in a jar and show your friends the amazing talking frog.

You said it earlier (we all heard you on +RP even if it's not going to be on this log) and it's true: it's pretty much a game of Frogger. As a human transmogrified into a frog Prince Naveen has a certain advantage at crossing the road, which he puts to keen use in getting to the Twilight Detective Agency without getting squished.

There, and not knowing of Mercade's inner mologue by virtue of not being a mindreader, the frog sits there for a few minutes before clearing his throat. This is more or less as you expect: a frog hopping into your office and then, beyond all probability, seeming to clear its throat. React as you will.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
The amazing powers of 'waiting for crossing lights' does wonders in Manhattan, really.

Mercade continues reading, not noticing that a frog has entered the building. 'It was always when things were most peaceful that they could become most intense. Like the fog rolling in off the bank, someone could enter at any time.' The frog clears its throat. "And then a throat cleared, like a foghorn warning of trouble out on the bay." Ooops, looks like he slipped. His internal monologue has become external. He puts the book down, smoothly. "I put the book down, wondering how they entered without triggering the doorbell, and..." He pauses, looking around in confusion for a moment. Naveen can /see/ Mercade's mental transmission slipping for a moment. "Aaaand... no one.. is there?" He blinks. "Will? Are you playing a prank again?" He checks left. "Deidra?" He checks right. "Okay, seriously, I hope we're not getting ghosts. Or zombies. Or zombie ghosts. It's not even Friday." He then looks down.

At the frog.

Mercade blinks. "Hell....o?" He says warily.

Prince Naveen has posed:
I get the sense you are enjoying this far, far too much. It's like film noir in here! I'm half tempted to continue my next pose with Prince Naveen in a long jacket and a smoking a cigar. But that would be silly, so I won't. But the intention is there!

Prince Naveen is somewhat used to people looking down at him in confusion in his current form. Plus, the previous statements weren't directly related to him and were therefore boring and instantly discarded.

"Ribbit," Prince Naveen says. Or at least, that's what he would say if the world were altogether sane. It may just be what you hear for the few seconds before your brain kicks into gear and goes, hold on, no, that frog just actually said something to me.

"Hello," Prince Naveen says, his voice as smooth as he reserves it for talking to people he would typically regard as help. "You are a private investigator?" he asks, still attempting beyond reason to maintain the illusion this could ever be a normal conversation.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade blinks again. "Yes. But if you start doing the Michigan Rag, we're going to have issues." He stands up and walks around the desk, putting out a hand for the frog to hop on. When he does so, he brings the frog over to the desk and lets him sit on there so they're on more even ground. Mercade sits back down, and folds his hands together, looking at the amphibian. "I would normally say I'm crazy, but events lately have somewhat expanded my definition of 'possible'. So, what's your name? And your story?"

Prince Naveen has posed:
Ah, glory, slavation, a hand! In Prince Naveen's current form distances that would be paltry to a human are gargantuan to a frog. Lifts are outright encouraged, whether bartered for, begged for or stole. "Ah, thank you," he says with courtesy. "My name is Prince Naveen of Maldonia--" he leaves a fraction of a pause, holdovers from a time when people would have heard of it, but quickly corrects himself into continuing. He's in a world with all sorts of strange things now adays, after all, being a Prince has next to no currency anymore except in his own mind.

"And I have been turned into a frog by a terrible, lamentable voodoo curse! ... I'm serious, by the way.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Prince Naveen." All right, he can work with this. Mercade nods, listening attentively. He leans back, nodding as he explains. "Let me guess. Dr. Facilier?" Mercade reaches into his coat and pulls out a small leather business card case, retrieving a familiar-looking business card and showing it to the Frog Prince. "I believe you. I've seen this guy and he's oilier than a snake."

Prince Naveen has posed:
Prince Naveen takes a step forward, finger extended to explain the ACTUAL culprit then... pauses. He blinks, then takes a step back a little sheeplishly. "You know the Shadow Man?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "The oiliest, yes, but forgive me -- you know him?" He glances at the card then back to Mercade carefully. He's starting to regret instantly hopping into this guy's palm.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"I've met him a couple weeks ago. He tried to get myself and a princess to go to Louisiana with him for... whatever reason. I haven't seen him since after I turned him down." Mercade replies. "I mean, why would I go all the way there when I have a perfectly good home right here? I mean, I love Cajun cooking as much as the next guy, but..." He shrugs.

Prince Naveen has posed:
The reply sets Prince Naveen at ease, but barely. He's in the palm your hand now (literally) so there's not much else he can do but go with it anyway. He nods, showing overly-enthusiastic agreement. "Oh yes," he says. "I have travelled the world -- well, America -- and encountered lots of fine cuising and nowhere quite beats this particular part of Manhatten," he says. He gulps, pressing on simply due to the fact a particular word of interest has come up. He obviously tries to steer the conversation in this direction. "But a princess you say?" he asks with a stifled ribbit. "Tell me more."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Really? What did you like best?" Mercade asks, casually.

He blinks. Naveen's conversation jumps around more than he does. "But yeah. A princess. Rapunzel, specifically. I mean seriously, she had an insane amount of hair. It was just like in the storybooks."

Prince Naveen has posed:
Prince Naveen and Mercade Alexander maintain rigid eye contact. An unusual level of eye contact, in fact, almost as if the Prince is challenging him to look away. Either that or he's lying in a really bad way.... but no, it can't be that. He must be an intense, deeply serious character full of intent and meaning and wisdom. He restrains another ribbit.

"My favorite food? All of it," he answers diplomatically/charismatically. "This is why I travel... well, travelled the states. There is so much good here! Music, ladies, et cetera,"

There is much to be said about a man (frog) that properly articulates the word etc. I can't even be bothered to type it out again, that's how smooth this guy is.

"It just so happens by thankful coincidence this is why I am here, to you, right now!" the Prince announces, spreading his arms happily. "I am a frog, I assume I need a kiss from a Princess, you can help me find one -- yes?"

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade has no problems maintaining eye contact with the Frog Prince. He does arch an eyebrow though, at Naveen's response. A diplomatic response... But also a vague one. This amphibian is a bit slippery himself. "You definately seem like a well-traveled man. A man of wealth, taste, and class." Man, not frog.

He thinks for a moment, tapping his chin with his free hand. "This is an unusual request. Hmm. So you think a kiss from a princess will break your evil voodoo curse, eh?" He scratches at the back of his head, still thinking. "Do they just have to kiss you, or actually care about you? This might be important. I'm sure I can find a Princess somewhere... Not here, but out there, there's enough places that could have them."

Prince Naveen has posed:
Prince Naveen appreciates being referred to as a man even if it's not outwardly apparent. He's not to crass as to give a big grin when referred to as his actual species, but Mercade may be able to pick up on the subtle signals if he has super frog emotion detection powers. Unlikely, but possible. "You are a man of keen intellect and cognative abilities," Naveen observes with a smile. "Exactly what I'm looking for."

"I can only assume that will break my curse," he says, scratching under his chin. He stops after realizing he's flirting with danger of another throat-expanding croak. "But care about me? Hmm," he suffers a brief crisis. On the one hand there are hundreds, maybe thousands (oh yeah, you heard) of women who didnn't suffer from such emotions in his company and they got on perfectly fine. On the other hand, he remembers Tiana, who he turned into a frog maybe because she didn't actually care about him. He blinks.

"I doubt it's important," he says briefly. "This is the Shadow Man we're talking about. He's slippery. I doubt his spells can be that complicated!"

Mercade Alexander has posed:
A man who is easily flattered. Mercade can see how Facilier got this poor guy. "I..." Mercade squints, bringing the frog up to eye level. "You kind of lost me on the logic there. If he's a slippery man, wouldn't his spells be equally slippery?" He pulls back away, then, and shrugs. "I suppose there's only one way to find out, though. You want a Princess to kiss you, I'll get you a Princess." Mercade gestures. "If you want, you can hang around here. It's safe, and we can get you a little place to relax or something. Or maybe you can ride along in my pocket? Up to you."

Prince Naveen has posed:
Naveen doesn't feel so comfortable with being easily brought up to eye level. Normally it's the other way around, not that he'd ever do that of course -- in his life of late any misgivings could be easily resolved by buying somebody a drink. But not anymore...

"Well regardless," he says breezily. "I can pay you when I'm human of course. You can probably understand why I have no access to my fabulous wealth in this current form..."

He briefly gets the image of living with Mercade and, despite himself, the image of buttered frogs leg flashes into his mind for the briefest of moments. "Thank you," he says cautiously. "You are an officer and a gentleman..."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"I can see how your current situation would make it difficult to write a check or make a bank withdrawal, yes." Mercade says only slightly dryly. "You're welcome, but I'm no officer." He chuckles. "I'm just a detective. I mean, Do you /have/ a place out there to stay? I can't imagine it's been all that comfortable for you."

Prince Naveen has posed:
Price Naveen thinks about this for a moment or two or three. "Stay? You mean sleep? Well no, I suppose not..." This is of course under the understanding that lily pads, dumpsters and within unsuspecting world-travellers backpacks doesn't count. "Not what I'm used to, at least." Though guarded in his reply the lingering possibility of not having to sleep in the rain shifts his tone somewhat.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"Yeah, I figured as much. You're a bit down on your luck at the moment." Mercade smiles kindly. "Don't worry about it. We'll set some food aside for you, you can hang out around the place and we'll set some cushions up for you near the TV or something so you can relax. If you want to come along on my work, you're welcome to do so... But it's a bit dangerous, so that's up to you."

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"I'm trying to find a way to stop the Heartless and restore the worlds back to wholeness again." Mercade explains. "A lot of people are suffering because of them, but the Heartless are a major threat to basically everything out there. I mean, sure, I'm just some detective in Manhattan, but I gotta do something, you know?" Mercade sighs, leaning back in his chair. "I don't think anyone's going to be kicking down the door any time soon though. I've always been out there in the other worlds, finding trouble. But that's also where the princesses are. Manhattan doesn't have any, we don't have royalty. It's the United States."

Prince Naveen has posed:
Even though Prince Naveen asked the question he's struggling with being bored by the answer, although it would never show. "Oh yes I agree, everything is terrible. Everybody has to pull together to save it," he says TOTALLY UNREADABLY. "Princesses..." he repeats, in a half-murmour. "Okay! I have come to a conclusion: you may take me, Mr. Alexander. Provided there is room and board, even if that happens to be a pocket and whatever you have to spare. You will be rewarded with money. More money than you ever dreamed of having to spend on whatever you spend money on."

It's a promise from a frog. An enthusiastic frog, yes, but still a frog. He's not supressing a ribbit anymore but still, he has frog feet. And slime. Plus he's green. Hopefully that won't put you off.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
Mercade doesn't mind putting a frog in his pocket. He did that as a kid, after all. The fact that Naveen doesn't care about Mercade's work doesn't seem to impress itself on Mercade. Maybe he's bad at reading frog body language and expressions.

The claims of money don't seem to elicit much of a response from Mercade. "We'll worry about payment when we solve your problem, Prince." Mercade says. "I'm not concerned about it right now. Anyway, feel free to make yourself at home for now." He begins writing some things on note paper, passing along information to the group that they have a new stayer for a while. He'll put it on the bulletin board when he has a minute. "Anything else you need right now?"

Prince Naveen has posed:
Prince Naveen weighs his urge for comfort vs. the practicalities of this arrangement. He gulps. Then, he thinks of something. From behind his back somehow(?!) he pulls a chestnut linked to a twig, sort of what a five year old would use to represent a guitar if they somehow didn't know how a guitar worked. He tweaks a few spiders webs/threads of cotton/disregarded elastic with a frown. "I don't suppose you have a rubber band, do you? I'm missing an e-string..."

You've heard of puppydog eyes, right? Well shazam! how about froggy frog eyes, mother*&^$�"? Well that's what you're getting.

Mercade Alexander has posed:
"A guitar-playing man, I see." Mercade forces himself not to smile or laugh. He uses his free hand to rummage around in the desk drawer for a minute, and holds up a thin rubber band. "Will this do?"

Prince Naveen has posed:
Prince Naveen takes the band, turns his whole body around and, one short fiddle later, turns back. He strumps the chestnutpossiblyguitarbutmaybeaukulele a couple of times. "Perfect!" he says. But then out of nowhere the scene fades to black?! Oh no-- no-- noooo!

fin