2010-07-10: Social Dance


Heather_icon.jpg AlexK_icon.jpg

Summary: Heather catches up with Alex and discusses repayment for the dinner dine-and-dash.

Date: July 10, 2010

Log Title Social Dance

Rating: PG-13

NYC - Hell's Kitchen

The rough neighborhood in Midtown West New York known as Hell's Kitchen almost has a darker tone to it. Once you step into this neighborhood the city takes on a different feel, the buildings are shorter but everything feels darker. There is real grit to this part of town where many of the New York City criminals see to make their home.

Hell's Kitchen; an appropriate name for the veritable home of the scum and villainy that coats the gears that churn daily to run the underground business of New York City. Acrid mist pours forth from the grates connected to the sewers of the streets, smelling of urine and other excreted materials decaying in the systems below the concrete. The streets themselves in this part of town are littered with scraps of paper and garbage that's been blown about from the alleyways where shadowy deals are conducted daily.

The sun has long since set on this part of the city as the clouds have become overcast with the inevitable promise of rain. The humidity that fills the air like a heavy fog is charged with the static feeling of what promises to be a large storm to wash away the heat wave that's been plaguing the city, if only temporarily. Of course, with this coming storm comes to calm that's befallen even this part of the city, in anticipation for the rain.

Though, of the few people still wandering about on the streets before this promising storm, Alex is among the rare few. As the temperature has cooled a little bit and a light breeze has picked up, he's been able to put on his fall jacket. A leather type jacket with a fluffy neckpiece, making the jacket not unlike the pilot jackets Russians used to wear during the World War. As Alex walks along the street, his hands are deep in his pockets and his head is low. A taxi car passes by him, which causes a momentarily glance, but he seems otherwise inattentive of his surroundings. That's probably the best, being Hell's Kitchen. The less you know the safer you are.

A soft pit pat of footsteps rushing across the rooftops can be heard. Superheroes and supervillains alike use these as a platform for amazing aerial acrobatics and to patrol the streets below. Heather just happens to have come to the area to practice her aerial agility, but seems to have fallen lucky when she sees Alex below. How fortuitous. She grins widely at seeing him below and plays on her recorder, the same distorted voice that she always has over the tape recorder, "I see you there." She peers over the rooftop downwards, seeming to measure the distance between herself and Alexander.

Alex seems to notice the voice and as such looks directly at its origin. Oh, it's the speedster, he offers a polite wave. "Thank you for dinner the other night, it was so nice of you to pay." Haha, some nerve he has, mentioning it so soon. Though his smile is completely innocent, like he has no idea of what he's done, or that it was evil and impolite. What can you do?

"You're welcome. You owe me now, though. It is part of this social dance we call friendship." She grins widely, almost evilly, before she jumps off the roof. The way she lands is almost bizarre. It's like a cat hopping off of a table. Soft and graceful, as if a fall didn't even occur. "I don't have the finances for a new tape recorder. I need something with better sound quality. With the money you saved, I am sure you can pick it up for me."

"Well, you see.. —" Alex laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I actually don't have any money at all. I don't even have a home. I'm a wanderer." He continues smiling, it's honestly the truth! Though, he does have the money for a tape-recorder. "In fact, I was just mugged today and lost my wallet that had all the money I had saved up in it for food, otherwise I would." This all sounds a little too convincing!

Heather smiles even wider at Alex, and creepier. As creepy as a non-colour coordinated average sized white girl can be. "Well, you see, I've been talking through this machine for a long time. It's just a tape machine and it is getting worn. Do you hear how the interference of my voice? I need a new one very urgently for my well-being." She reaches up to try and adjust Alex's jacket for him, "Or do you not want to be my friend?"

"…Ech.." Alex takes on the expression of a hurt animal in a corner. Not sad but expressly frightened by this woman. Then he looks somewhat stressed and reluctant. "Well, I like a woman who's straight-forward about what she wants." The mutant seems to consider the idea for a moment before shrugging, "I'll see what I can do, but I need a week or two." Then he adds on to that statement quickly, "I didn't meant to rhyme that."

Heather nods at Alex and says, "A week or two? That is a very long time for me. A few months of time, potentially. Fine. I'll find you again in a week or two, or you can give me a call and a meeting place." She pulls Alex's marker out of her bag, quickly writes out her cell number, attaching it to the marker's clip, and slips that and just enough change for a phone call into Alex's pocket. "I'd rather you call, though," she plays.

A flash of lightning illuminates the sky, signaling the start of the storm. Thunder follows soon after as a few drops begin to patter down in sparse patterns across the broken concrete. Alex puts his hand in the same pocket the pen was placed in. "Yeah." He responds, simply. "I'll get a hold of you when it's ready." A brief smile crosses his expression again, but it quickly fades. It's pretty hard to guess what he's thinking right now.

"Appreciated," plays Heather, taking a couple quick steps back as a smile appears on her face, equally as inscrutable. "I will be hearing from you, then." She offers him a small salute, "I am sure you have matters to attend to. I will not keep you from them."

Alexander folds his left hand behind his back as he offers a polite wave with his right hand. There's a brief flash of dull chrome from his wrist as he waves. "Try not to get too wet in this rain." The rain begins to pick up and it's soon pouring. Though, it's a nice feeling, the water is just barely cold, it's like being in ocean water at the beach, just not salty.

"Don't worry about me," plays Heather, which is the last thing she says before tucking her tape recorder back away in her bag and pulling out her folded umbrella. She waves once more before the splish splash of her feet on rapidly wettening concrete quickly carries her back to her destination.

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