Her lips had been parting to ask if he planned on replying to the message when he became animated, her eyes following his movements until presented with a new name.
“Everyone’s a suspect, doc. Until I say they ain’t. What do we know about him?”
“As of now--” Another few keystrokes began the on-screen filtering of accessible information regarding this Jason Weaver, the most recent of his host's known associates who seemingly had a 'signal' attached to his general whereabouts. “--we know this.”
Bruce stared a little blankly to the holographs, raising a slight brow at the medical records that seemed to tell a tale of both a student-athlete who'd drawn the short straw when it came to injuries, and a ...schizophrenic.
“Well, kid sure knows how to pick 'em,” he muttered beneath his breath, entirely unaware of his doing so. “No public superhero outings, at least..? Though it would've been helpful at this present juncture..”
The back of his mind continued to whir with his own mild -- excruciatingly mild -- concerns regarding the encrypted message. Whoever this 'Candy Cane' was, they'd called him out with chilling accuracy. It had in fact been foolish of him, having not covered his tracks as soon as he'd woken again to discover that his extraction team hadn't arrived -- as soon as the decision had been made that his identity in any world was, by all current calculations, best kept under lock and seal.
Then again, by his calculations, he'd predicted that his cover would be blown courtesy of the big guy -- it was only a matter of time -- yet here they were, narrowing down suspects to an anonymous ...threat.
Jason Weaver. She repeated the name in her head. Perhaps trying to stumble across something similar after recognizing early on that for better or worse those lost in this world were not randomly selected with hosts. It was never as accidental or circumstantial as one might think. Much like herself and Maya who shared too many commonalities simply to be a coincidence — particularly down to their names and hometown. Still — no Jason Weavers or anything close was making her spidey senses tingle.
“I could check it out. See what he’s up to.”
“I'll dispatch one of the bots to do some preliminary recon--” It was how he'd been keeping tabs thus far and part of the reason why the collected data was altogether spotty -- his current troop of semi-sentient drones had suffered some casualties; technology had its limits. “We can check him out tonight. In.. Non-admiring ways...”
He cleared his throat, reaching over the desk again to swipe Mr. Weaver from central focus. “Will we be doing the knock-on-doors, shake-some-hands venture, or... Be hiding in his bushes? I haven't had to make such a calculation for the bots...”
Misty chuckled, shaking her head and knitting her brows.
Definitely weren’t knocking on any doors either for that matter. “It’s not in real time so we’d have to figure out where he’s at first. Though, it’s probably more important to find out where he stays. Maybe locate the computer he could’ve responded from... 'Course if he was smart enough to figure the message and comment on you leaving yourself open to exposure, I doubt he’d do the same and make it easy for us.”
She made a clicking noise with her mouth, deciding that this Jason did not look like the Candy Cane sort either.. but first impressions could be deceiving. Especially in their case, dealing with multiple identities.
Maybe Jason wasn’t their mark, but that didn’t mean the lost bastard sharing his body was exempt.