ArchivedLogs:Small Fry

Small Fry
Dramatis Personae Chloe, Deanna, Veronica
In Absentia	2015-03-14 "/You're/ good. /I'm/ goddamn fantastic."
Location <NYC> Harlem
Harlem's gritty reputation has become less and less earned over the past decade or so as gentrification has set in. Its reputation as a hub of jazz and culture, however, is still very much earned -- throughout the years Harlem has been renowned for its contributions to music, from its swing dancing and jazz culture back when speakeasies were prevalent to the many hip-hop artists with Harlem roots in modern day. It's not a pleasant evening. Grey and wet and cold; the sun hasn't actually set quite yet but it isn't bright either, a steady stream of damp slogging down from the overcast sky. People hurry to and from their destinations, not so much lingering in the sodden outdoors. In it, Chloe is a bright patch of color. Cheerful spring-like umbrella in yellow and green art deco swirls, a bright yellow coat, jeans tucked into tall boots, her hair done up in a number of twists with multicolored beads crimped into the bottoms of each. For all the wet there's still a bounce in /her/ step. At her side, a Very Large rottweiler. Also bouncy. At her other side... less bounce. Deanna's dreadlocks lack any colourful beads. She doesn't have an umbrella. Just a grey rain jacket, black jeans, black boots. Her face is set into a default sort of /sullen/, not quite a scowl, just a resting bitchface that suggests her default look is FuckOff. Hands shoved in pockets. Eyes narrowed. Narrowed still further as they come to a pause, waiting for the dog to sniffsniffsniff at a likely patch of grass. Veronica has neither umbrella or raincoat, although her too-big hooded jacket looks mildly water resistant. The tattered legs of her jeans are soaked up to her knees, and the boots under them soggy as well. She keeps her head down and walks fast, like many other pedestrians just trying to get home through the rain. She doesn't exactly run into Deanna, but kind of clips her in passing. "Oops!" she blurts, catching herself against the other woman as she stumbles, one hand steathily lifting wallet from pocket. "I'm so sorry..." Chloe's head tips slightly to one side as Veronica catches herself. She lifts a hand, lightly touching against the teenager's arm to steady her in her stumble. "It's no worries, honey-child, this rain just makes /every/-thing so damn slick." Just as quick as Veronica had /taken/ it the wallet is back in Chloe's nimble fingers, lifted in a trice out of the teenager's sleeve and dropped back into Deanna's pocket. "Though never /quite/ so slick as you really think." There's a very small tug at Deanna's lips. Just a brief one. Huff. Her hand drops to pat at her pocket. Her eyes drop to watch the dog peeing on a sad scrawny fenced-in tree. Then lift back to Veronica. "We're good." She looks to Chloe, as if for confirmation: "We're good?" "Whoa," Veronica says, doing a double take at Chloe. "THAT is slick." She looks a little flabbergasted and looks up at Deanna warily. "We're good," she says, holding her hands out to the side and breaking into a crooked smile. "/You're/ good," Chloe answers this, bright and cheery. "/I'm/ goddamn fantastic." Her eyes flick briefly over Veronica's clothing, lips pressing slightly together as her dog finishes peeing and trots forward, sniffing at the teenager's boots. "Really, though, /you/ good?" Deanna huffs out another small breath. Gives her head a small /shake/. "Took my damn wallet," she answers, her deep voice gruff. "She look good?" "Thanks! It's not everyday I get owned at my game." Veronica scuffs one shoe, her grin turning sheepish. "It's just been a thin week, you know. Just trying to scrape together a bit extra for some smokes, nothing personal." She looks down at the dog, guarded but hopeful. "Can I pet your dog?" "Sure. Saeta only looks tough. She's pretty much a huge teddy bear." Chloe flutters her fingers towards the snuffling dog; Saeta's tail is wagging eagerly as she sniffs at Veronica's feet, then up the soggy jeans. Chloe, meanwhile, is taking her own wallet out of her jacket, fishing a ten out of it to offer it towards Veronica. "I'm keeping the wallet, though. You want the umbrella? It's pretty gross today." "Been Chloe's game hella longer'n yours, boo." For all her gruff, there's a faint thread of amusement in Deanna's voice. "Wallets, that's small fry." "Hey, thanks. But nah, I don't need an umbrella, I always just lose them or break them anyway." Veronica accepts the bill with a sort of half-salute, then kneels slowly, holding out a hand for the dog to sniff. "Bet you're happy the weather's warming up, huh?" This seems to be addressed at Saeta. But then she looks up at Deanna. "Small fry still keep you fed, yeah? And most of the time it's easy." She studies Chloe. "So you're big-time, huh?" "Fed's one thing. /Stylish/? Housed? Plenty of dog toys? Come on, a girl needs more than a full belly." Chloe's hand gestures down to her bright coat, well-tailored jeans, elegant high boots. Saeta, meanwhile, thrusts her nose into Veronica's hand, snuffling there and then slurping sloppy-wet at the girl's palm. "Likin' your priorities there." Deanna's arms have folded across her chest. Her face has settled back into its casual state of sullen, though there's a quieter warmth in her tone. "We ain't hurtin' none. She not finna pick no pockets neither." "I can pull of stylish when I need to, but housed?" Veronica giggles, scratching under Saeta's chin. "That's a bit more hit or miss. Which was all kinds of shitty winter. Ugh." She pulls a face. "But that's done at least. Maybe now I'll have some time to figure out where I'm going from here, you know?" "Where you going from here probably depends a lot on where you aiming for." Chloe lifts a shoulder in a small shrug. Saeta's tail just wags faster, damp body thunking up in a heavy lean against Veronica's legs. "You have a target? Or even a path? Or you just kinda --" Her hand waggles in the air, aimlessly. "Hoping the wind blows you up somewhere better?" "Up," is Deanna's contribution to this. "Always gotta be up." "You are the cutest," Veronica informs Saeta very solemnly, giving the rottweiler's head an affectionate rub before standing up again. "I'm aiming to get off the street without shacking up with people think they own me." She straightens her skinny frame, tucks back a lock of hair still faintly green at the tips. "So yeah, I guess that's up." "She's basically the best, that's definitely the truth." Saeta seems to agree with this assessment. Licklicklick! Lick. /Lick/. And a nuzzle for good measure before Veronica stands up. "That's a good aim. Those good aims. Too damn many people in this world gonna think they own you. Always fucking /will/." Chloe's head shakes, a little more fierce than friendly this time. "Trick is, you goddamn well own them first, yeah?" "Trick is," Deanna says, quiet and slow as ever but by no means /mild/, "you own your own damn self. Then you stay un-fucking-touchable. These streets --" Her head shakes, dreads whispering quietly as they shift against her jacket. "Just keep getting uglier and uglier." "Owning myself?" Veronica asks. "If that's just standing up and not taking any shit, I got that covered. But owning other people, that's what I need to be doing more of." Chloe reaches into her pocket again, getting out a slip of paper. A receipt for coffee. She jots a phone number down on the back of it, handing it over to Veronica. "Some time, maybe, you want to learn a little more about owning the rest of these motherfuckers --" Her shoulder hitches up in a shrug, together with a bright flash of smile. "Maybe you give me a call." Saeta is starting to sniff her way off down the block, again. "I think meanwhile she's looking to get me home." Deanna doesn't say anything more, to this. Just a very small smile. A very small nod. And she turns to follow after her friends, two- and four-legged alike. "Cool, thanks." Veronica smiles, almost shyly, takes the receipt and tucks it into a pocket. "See you around."