ArchivedLogs:Slumming

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Slumming
Dramatis Personae

Casper, Selene, Trib

In Absentia


2014-01-10


'

Location

<NYC> Dogtown - Midtown East


A small nook of a joint in Midtown, Dogtown is decorated with little thought to class or style. Cheerful, with black and white tiled flooring, bright red tables, bright yellow walls, menus plastered on peeling sheets over the counter, the walls are papered in an assortment of photographs -- smiling patrons who hold records for successfully eating six or more hot dogs in one one-hour sitting. The menu here is simple and solid -- hot dogs both beef or vegan with a huge array of toppings, fries, slaw, chili. It's not haute cuisine but the dogs are good enough to draw large crowds, especially late at night.


In the city right now, it's cold and overcast outside, late evening, around dinner time, possibly later for some. Entering into Dogtown is Selene Gallio and her /charmingly/ gruff-looking bodyguard Casper. Selene is dressed in her black peacoat, a pair of trousers, and a pair of black boots, hands inside her coat, whilst Casper is dressed in a gray trenchcoat, jeans, and military-style boots, a bulge in his right pocket hinting towards something in there..like a pistol. Selene's first reaction on entering is bewildered, her eyes darting around, not having even begin mentally scanning everyone inside as she usually does. By this reaction, she's definitely never been in here, or maybe even a place /like/ here. Casper, on the other hand, seems pretty calm, eying the menus as he tries to figure out what he'd like. Selene soon begins her scans after eying the entire area, as she approaches the menus, reading them as well, whispering to Casper. "These prices, are awfully cheap, and that usually reflects on the quality, does it not?". Casper grins slightly, turning to her, whispering back. "Trust me. They're good here. You'll like them.". Selene sighs, nodding. "Fine, I will try it. Just for the experience.".

The best thing about this particular restaurant, as far as Trib is concerned, is its proximity to the Heroes for Hire offices. Which is why he eats here a /lot/. And why he's here /now/. Dressed in boots and jeans with a thick army-surplus flack jacket that looks a little battered. On his head, a knit cap is jammed down low, pushing his shaggy hair into a curl where it hits his shoulders and pushes its way over his golden gaze. His hands are jammed into his pockets as he falls into line behind the (clearly lost) rich woman and her goon-for-hire. Each gets an appraising look before the boxer turns his own attention to the menu. The woman's capitulation gets a snort of choked-off laughter, and the big man's eyes crinkle just a tiny bit at the corners.

Hearing the laughter of Trib behind her, Selene groans quietly, peering silently to Casper, as if somehow she is SENDING HIM A SIGNAL, before tracing her mind over Trib's thoughts. Casper turns around, silent, but is giving a huge sort of death glare to Trib, like he's trying to kill him with his eyes. Casper's not a very big guy size-wise, though he is fit, and has a roman numeral tattoo of the number of his FAF unit on his neck. After a long enough time staring Trib down, Casper's turning back around, looking down at the menu as they wait in line. Selene looks over to him, also eying the menu. "Hmm. What is good here?". Casper looks over the menu, before smiling. "I'll order for you. Trust me."

Trib's thoughts are relatively simple, although there are a lot that lurk beneath the calm surface of his mental waters. Most of them center around the hot dog choices, a bland assessment of toppings and how many he'll have on his (many) own dogs. How he should take a few to go, for a skinny Japanese man with a healthy appetite. The impending workout that will follow /that/, and the sweaty reward after. Each surfaces briefly before sliding back into the inky depth.

Casper's death stare is met with a bland look from Trib; the big man's golden gaze unintimidated by the soldier, although a new thought surfaces that urges caution before it's tugged away by a pull of curiosity about rich women hiring slick numbers like this guy. After a couple minutes of death stare, the boxer's lips twitch, and he closes one eye in a slow wink.

"Everything," is his answer to Selene's question. "Even that tofu shit is good, here. An' I hate that shit."

Trib's thoughts mainly bore Selene, so she begins changing the channel to the other people in the joint. Stuff about how delicious the hot dogs are, why are you breaking up with me at a hot dog joint, that chick is totally hot, all of this stuff bores Selene, so she mainly shuts down her mental focus to her immediate surrounding area. "Tofu? They actually make vegan items here? Hmm...". Casper's quickly, QUICKLY, interjecting into this. "No. I'll order for you.". Like she's a child or something. Selene nods, before turning around to Trib. She does not have a death glare, but her eyes are scanning him in ways her mind cannot. Selene's pulling the simple name/occupation off his mind as she stares him down. "So, what are you getting?"

Trib doesn't look overly threatening, although his large size does lend itself to 'intimidating'. His hand are shoved casually in his pockets, and his attention is mainly on the menu. "Yeah, they got vegan stuff," Trib says, wrinkling his nose. "Ain't my thing, but I've tried it. It ain't bad." Casper's interjection gets a small flick of the boxer's gaze in his direction, but he doesn't voice the question that bubbles up in his mind and is quickly shoved deep again. When the woman's focus lands on him fully, Trib offers a slow blink, and a shrug. "I'm gettin' four quarter-pounders with everything, an' two large fries," he says matter-of-factly. It is his regular order, after all. "Maybe somethin' to go, after I've ate." His gaze snaps over to Casper, and his lip curls at one corner. "What you plannin' on gettin' her, Mister Belvedere?"

"Chicago, minus the mustard.". Casper's accent is very French, born and raised. Selene looks like she's about to enquire, but a quick glance and she's closing her mouth. This would seem like some sort of domination or abuse, but Casper's actually just mentally telling her what a Chicago is. "Sounds good.". Selene says this calmly, looking back towards the counter as they step up in the line, their turn. Casper's ordering, as he said. "A Chicago with no mustard, and a Carolina, thank you.". Casper's glaring over to Selene again, clarifying what a Carolina dog is. Selene's reaching into her pocket, pulling out a fine leather wallet, and tossing out a large bill, /probably/ more than the order and giving the worker a pretty nice tip.

Trib's eyes crinkle a bit at Casper's voice, and he grunts appreciatively. The pop of pleasant surprise for the unusual accent is unexpected, for Trib, and his brow lowers as he thrusts his chin forward. "Chicago's okay, but you gotta have the mustard. It's bland as shit without it." Which is just another fact Trib is offering as he steps up dutifully. Casper's glare gets a curious sort of look that flicks to Selene before Trib abandons trying to figure it out. The revelation of the big bill isn't very surprising to the boxer -- he was actually expecting some sort of display of this sort. Still, he wrinkles his nose, and fishes out his wallet, doing a mental inventory of the amount inside, and determining how nice a tip /he/ might leave behind.

"She doesn't like mustard. But she likes the rest. It's a perfect first timer, I'd say.". Casper replies quickly, possibly trying to protect Selene's reputation that she /isn't/ a bland individual with bland tastebuds. Selene nods, as they get their food. "It's perfect, and looks decent. Thank you, Casper.". Casper nods, as they begin to leave, Casper carrying the food. However, Selene flashes a quick, devious grin to Trib as they walk off, speaking towards him. "Goodbye, Mr. Jones.".

Trib's eyes narrow at that, and he STARES after Selene for a long moment after she's gone. Then he snorts, and turns back to the counter with a dark expression to place his order. Roughly. With a lot of muttered curses.