ArchivedLogs:Saving Necks

Saving Necks
Dramatis Personae Lillian, Rasheed
In Absentia	6 December, 2012 A little bit of accidental networking.
Location High Line
Built on a freight rail, the High Line once was a railroad and has been reclaimed as green space in the middle of the city. A park situated high above Manhattan, what was once a rusty industrial wasteland is now a stretch of peaceful space to lounge and relax among grass and flowers and plant life. There are restaurants, ice cream sandwich stands, a beer garden, and the view all along the elevated parkland is unbeatable. Lightly bundled with a worn leather jacket and a scarf that isn't quite wrapped all the way around her neck, Lillian Welsh meanders down the paths with a once-warm drink in her hands. Her brow is slightly knit as she chews on her bottom lip. There is a folder tucked under her left elbow and ever so slightly a paper held within it starts to seep out of the bottom. Lillian walks on unaware as the paper finally frees itself of it's manila cage and floats away behind her. Rasheed is less bundled as he cuts through the park, a hat pulled down over his head but only a blazer worn by way of weather-protection. It might not be the wisest /choice/ in the nippy late-autumn weather, the tall man's shoulders hunched against the faind breeze -- or maybe hunched as he looks at a cellphone in his hand, taptaptapping at the screen. The flutter of a paper floating past draws his attention away from the screen, however; for a moment he just stops and /looks/ at the paper before he seems to remember to react. Hurrying a few steps back the way he just came, he plucks it out of the air, turning to jog after the woman. "Miss. Miss?" The paper rustles in his hand. "Miss, is this important?" It rustles still further as he waves the sheet of paper at Lillian's back. Lillian is almost nibbling on the rim of her Starbucks coffee lid when the sound of Rasheed stirs her from her inward thinking. The woman half turns, eyebrows climbing as she looks from the man's face to the paper in his hand. It takes a split second. "Oh...!" Lillian shifts her coffee to her left hand and grabs the folder with her right, reaching to gently take the paper from him. "Oh, wow. Thank you. Last thing I need is explaining to one of my students that I misplaced their final paper." Her eyes glance over the paper. "Oh, it's Jordan's? Actually, he'd probably be thrilled." There is a beat of pause, Rasheed's eyebrows raising, but then he laughs, teeth flashing bright. "That bad?" His eyes, too, drop to the paper, shamelessly peeking to try and glimpse its contents. "Do they get a free pass if /you/ say the dog ate their homework?" Hands freed of the paper, he slips them into the pocket of his blazer, shoulders once more slightly-hunched, though perhaps less in discomfort and more in a habitual sort of stoop. "What subject is it that you teach?" Briefly Lillian smiles at his laugh, glance at his smile before returning her eyes to his. "I guess they'd have to! But Giles is a very good dog, so it's never come up. My clumsiness on the other hand..." She adjusts the folder under her arm once the likely-triple-spaced single page paper is tucked back into it. "History. High school." She frees a hand and holds it out. "The kids call me Ms. Walsh but you're welcome to call me Lily. Thanks for saving my neck." "High school." Rasheed extracts a hand to meets Lillian's with his own, clasping it for one quick pump of a handshake. His smile turns downwards, though there's an exaggerated quality to his grimace. "Should I be offering my sympathy?" The mock-grimace relaxes, his gaze dropping briefly to the movement of the folder and then returning to Lillian's face. "Lilly. I am Rasheed. Saving necks is what I do. Well. Saving what comes above them, usually. Where do you teach?" Lillian bubbles a small laugh. "Only on Mondays. Or right before holidays. Or right after them." She matches his mock-grimace and shakes her head as she withdraws her hand and tilts her head a bit to give him a light smile. "Oh! It's a smaller high school over in the East Village. Harvey Milk. I'm blessed with very small classes that thankfully have yet to overrun me and revolt." She pauses and rights her tilt. "What is it you do?" "Harvey Milk?" Rasheed echoes the name slow, thoughtful, and for a moment he neglects to see her smile as he looks upwards as if searching the sky for some bit of information. He looks back to her soon after, though, saying when he does: "Is that the gay one?" He says it blunt and abrupt, though there's no disapproval in his tone. His smile returns afterwards, a small quick twitch. "Doctor. Neurologist." His fingers waggle towards his skull. "Saving above the neck." "They take all kinds. Kids who need a safe haven, I suppose. But yes, mostly that." Lillian hitches her shoulders in a shrug. "They're good kids," she adds with a glance to her folder. She follows his gaze up to his head and purses her lips in an impressed little 'o' shape. "Ooo. Brain surgeon, huh? You weren't kidding about the saving. Neat." Her fingers wrap around her cup as she adjusts herself. "I mold brains, you make sure they work. I like that. Did you grow up here? Not many people know the high schools around the city." Something in Lillian's words widens Rasheed's smile. "Mmm. That is a nice way to view it. I wouldn't have been able to save them without a good lot of molding mine first." He nods in affirmation to her question, lifting a hand to tug his cap down a little more snugly. "Born and bred," he says, not without a trace of New York pride. "But I had a patient once, actually. Five, six years back. I guess you could say I work with people who need a safe haven, too." He shrugs a shoulder, expression skewing a little thoughtful. "A clinic I work at targets at-risk populations, too. We recommended your school as a resource, once or twice. Kids struggling where they were." "Do you? That's wonderful to hear. I feel it's all the more rewarding to be that pillar of strength in a person's life. Well. I'm just the history teacher. But I'm a part of something bigger, I guess." Idly she sips her cold coffee and pulls it away with a small hum of distaste for the feel of the cold liquid. "It's very nice to meet you, though. What's the name of your clinic? It never hurts to have more resources for my kids to potentially use if they need it." "Oh, to the kids you teach, I don't doubt it. A lot of people have little enough they can rely on. And it's the Common Ground Clinic," Rasheed answers. He opens one flap of his jacket, patting at an inside pocket before searching the other instead. Pulling out a business card, he offers it to Lillian between two fingers. It has the clinic's contact information on one side, Rasheed's business contacts on the other. "Our services are on a sliding scale. Free, to those who need it. Certainly send your kids along, if they need. I can't imagine learning gets any easier if you have to worry about basic needs while trying to study for finals." Lillian takes the card, grinning at it as she flips it over and grazes each side with a quick flick of her eyes. "Brilliant! Thank you, Rasheed." With one more turn of the card, Lily tucks it into the breast pocket of her jacket and looks up to him with a refreshed smile. "Well! Perhaps I'll be seeing you again, then? I'd offer to go get coffee, but I'm afraid I've already fooled myself once thinking Starbucks could stay hot on my walk." She lifts the cup up with a snorting chortle. "But! A raincheck. I studied biology for a bit in college before ultimately deciding on history. I still love sciences. We can talk, you know. Brain stuff." She taps into her brown hair with a smile. "Thankfully, there's a Starbucks about every half-block. I think if you keep your eyes open, you can find one closer to home somewhere. The trick is to time it so your walk doesn't outlast your coffee." Rasheed dips his head in a quick nod as Lillian raises the cup. "A raincheck, then. I still love history, myself." His hand lifts in a quick wave, and then returns to nestle snugly in his pocket. One last smile to Lillian, and then he ducks his head, hurrying along as though he might try to outpace the chill. "Oh, true. They just installed one in my living room last week, now that I think about it." Lillian laughs to herself and rechecks her folder to make sure no more papers make a bid for freedom. "See you later, Rasheed. Goodnight!" She lets her gaze linger on him for a moment before turning and and walking along the opposite direction. The coffee gets chucked into the nearest bin with little ceremony as she heads off.