2009-04-02: Hair Woes


Hilary_icon.jpg Kenta_icon.jpg

Summary: Hilary and Kenta have some casual conversation.

Date: April 2. 2009

Log Title Hair Woes

Rating: PG

Brooklyn - Coney Island

Coney Island lies at the very southern most tip of Brooklyn with its beach lying in the Atlantic Ocean. Coney island contains various rides and roller coasters and games such as skee ball. Coney Island hosts a Variety of events such as Burlesque shows, the Mermaid Parade, Freak Shows, and the Nathan's Hot Dog Eating contest. The Coney Island boardwalk stretches down the park lined with food shops and arcades.

The smart photographers these days are probably out on the street photographing people looking hopeless in the gathering economic gloom that is crouching over New York City. Hilary's doing a fair job of it, himself, although some British stoicism intervenes. He's sitting still on a bench, breathing out cigarette smoke and a faint addition of condensation in the fairly chilly air.

A bench or two down from Hilary is a lone guitarist, playing his accousitc guitar for those in the park. The guitar case is open on the ground for those wishing to throw change in. Sometimes Kenta sings and sometimes it's just the guitar, right now it's an instrumental song he's playing and there's a cigarette in the guitarists mouth. Kenta needs his nicotine as much as the next weed fiend.

Hilary listens for awhile before he gets up and goes to settle on the same bench with the performer, though far enough away not to inhibit the playing. He doesn't say anything right away.

Once the song is done, Kenta looks over at Hilary, not bothering to remove his sunglasses. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and smiles. "Enjoying the music?" He asks and obvious, Kenta isn't afraid to play infront of a crowd.

"More than anything else, at the moment," Hilary says, reaching into a pocket while holding his cigarette clamped between his lips. That makes him have to mumble a bit when he adds: "Except tobacco."

"Me and tobacco have a love hate relationship. No matter how hard I try, I can't quit the damn things." Kenta says with a grin as he takes a long inhale of his own cigarette. "And I'm glad your enjoying the music. I'm Kenta Gilpatrick." He says with a smile as he offers an unusally cold hand towards Hilary.

"That's a funny name," Hilary says, but with a pleasant smile. He grips Kenta's hand. "But not quite so funny as your hairstyle. You know, a cut would be /much/ more attractive…?"

Kenta raises his eyebrows and laughs. "Funny name, what's so funny about it?" He says knowing he's an Asian guy with an Irish last name. "And I should get a hair cut but I kind of like it. I dunno, hasn't been on the top of my list." He says good naturedly with a chuckle.

"No, get it cut," Hilary encourages. "I know a stylist." And then he smiles and tosses a bill into the case, exhaling smoke. "I guess I don't know many Irish-Japanese. You look all-Japanese to me. But then remarks like that get me called a racist by my American friends."

"Oh I'm not Irish, well not in blood." Kenta says with a chuckle. "My parents are Irish, I was adopted. I a twinkee." He jokes. And I know a stylist too, and is my hair really that much of a bother to you?"

"I'm sure that means something different than what I think it means," Hilary murmurs, adding, "My God, but there are a lot of adoptees in this town." He drops his cigarette and steps on it. "A bother? Not really, but I hate to see potential wasted."

Kenta raises his eyebrows. "I don't really know that many others, but then it is New York City and there are how many million here?" He can't help but laugh at Hilary's last words. "Potential wasted? It's just hair, what are you the stylist you were talking about that you could recommend?:

Hilary laughs at Kenta's, in turn. "For God's sake, no. We /can/ do other things than dress hair, you know. If you're so attached to the stuff, then keep it for God's sake. I'm only a stranger on a bench."

"I don't even know your name or what you or even what you mean by 'we'." Kenta remarks as he shakes his head with amusement. "I don't know, I know it's not fashionable and when I was younger I used to care more about my hair but I dunno, as I got older and now I have a kid, looking 'fucking awesome' isn't on the top of my list." He says with a chuckle.

"Hilary, and 'homosexuals,'" the Englishman answers easily enough, looking down to root out another cigarette from his voat pocket. "Anyway, it should be. I'm thirty-six and it's still on mine."

Kenta chuckles. "Ah see, I don't sit there and automatically asume, that' man must be a homosexual!" Kenta says as he doesn't care what Hilary likes and doesn't like. "So the hair dresser comment was not intended like that Hilary. And you were making fun of my name." He says good naturedly. "I'm thrity one and a single parent my priorites are my son and my music career is signing on a park bench."

Hilary gets the cigarette lit, smirking around it. "I know it wasn't, it's called humor," he says, pocketing his lighter. "Well, don't let me distract you from your troubles, then."

Kenta chuckles and looks at one of the long braids in his hair. "Your right, I probably should get a hair cut though. Well it was nice meeting you Hilary and you're not distracting me, I enjoy the random company."

"But now it's time for me to go?" Hilary wonders with a tilted smile, dragging on his cigarette while he looks at Kenta.

Kenta laughs. "Man I must be bad at reading you or something, you made it sound like you were on your way. Serioulsy, if you want to say and chat, I really don't mind. I'm just trying to pass time and make a few extra dollars."

Hilary laughs. "No, I was responding to your former touchiness about my suggestion," Hilary says, dropping another dollar into the case. "However, I won't stay too long. Getting cold."

"Ah well if you run into me again, who knows, I might have just had it all cut off, but not two short, I don't look sexy with short hair." Kenta says with a a chuckle as his old self has been coming back to him over the last few months. "Is it cold? I can't tell, well take care Hilary and it was a pleasure."

"One can only hope," Hilary says, getting to his feet. "Good luck getting what you need in this economy, by the way."

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