ArchivedLogs:Avocados

Avocados
Dramatis Personae Ash, Matt Murdock
In Absentia	2014-04-13 '
Location <NYC> Clinton
Despite its rough and tumble reputation of old, Clinton has come far from the illegal gambling and shakedowns of Prohibition, and the gang warfare of West Side Story. Clinton has now become the industrial supply center for midtown Manhattan, with hospitals and the light industrial and commercial businesses required to support so many thousands of people. The neighborhood has become quite expensive, but many actors still cram together in small apartments due to its proximity to Broadway. No doubt, with the weather so fine, the amount of outdoor activity this Sunday afternoon must be high in the city, even in the neighborhoods with less-than-ideal reputations. No coats, no jackets, no scarves, no umbrellas, no boots needed to say hello to sunny spring today. The welcome warmth changes all the smells of the city, and everything from the lack of melting snow in the gutters to the total change of attire of passing pedestrians makes for an interesting shift in city-scape for Matt as he makes his way along the sidewalk, the red and white cane in his hand lightly swish-tapping from side to side in front of him. His other hand holds onto the jacket of his dark blue suit, slung over a shoulder casually because it is said lovely spring Sunday and he is wending his way back from church. He takes his time, enjoying the air before all of the plants start exploding with pollen and the heat becomes oppressive enough to trap the more unpleasant scents one can expect in the city, even if things are a bit noisier with so many people out and about. Ash is making his way down the street with slow steps, his hand stuffed deeply into his pockets. The way he drags his feet and scuffs the bottom of his steel toed boots betrays his mood as low and heavy. He pauses outside one of the many different apartment buildings, next to a tiny bodega and glances at their exterior produce, hands fumbling over some of the peppers, sniffing them for freshness and gently probing their structures for the peak pleasantness. He asks for a plastic bag and starts loading some up, then pauses and puts all but one of them back. Then he moves on to tomatoes and avocados. "you got any cilantro yet?" he asks the shopkeep, a hint of the southwest in his accent. Avocados? Matt's strolling gait slows even further as he takes a sniff at the air to confirm that yes, he did smell avocado amongst the other fresh produce selections while moving by the bodega. Instead of continuing on down the sidewalk, he turns to sidestep over to the outdoor display. It's almost a little comical, really, the way that a few passing people hit the brakes and then steer wide of him once they spot the cane and sunglasses in order to avoid a collision. He feigns obliviousness to what most might assume as near misses and focuses on the freshness. In reality, passing footsteps, conversations, the rumble of a passing truck all provide the backdrop of sound that Matt needs to sort of make out the different shapes of things, which line up with the fragrances they give off, but he waits until it seems like the shopkeep can give him some time, not wanting to barge in on a conversation already in progress. "Nah, Ash. The cilantro's too young - the good stuff anyway. The regular stuff's here, but it's so bland," the shop keep whines a little as he pushes a small container of leafy greens onto the rack of produce, leaving Ash then to his shopping. He spies the other man's cane and takes a step closer. "Need a bag for your purchases, mister?" Ash continues perusing, grabbing a couple leaves off of the cilantro when it's brought out and rolling them up and sniffing at them before begrudgingly selecting the smallest bundle in the container. He grabs an onion and two potatoes as well. "You should try the eggplant. It's pretty great. Had some yesterday that'd make your mouth water, if you're not allergic and all." Matt is in the 'cilantro smells and tastes like soap' camp of people, and so finds the conversation to be faintly amusing, because bland soap is still, you know, soapy in nature. When addressed, he tips his head just this tiny fraction, enough to turn his right ear subtly more towards the vendor. "Ahh maybe," he says, the smile surfacing on his features adding a friendliness to his voice that people the world over usually take on when they find themselves having to ask for help. I'm non-threatening and could use a hand, the tone says. "Do you have avocados?" He is standing right in front of them. How convenient! With the mention of eggplant from the other shopper, though, he turns his head the man's way and says, with some doubtful amusement, "I don't think I've ever associated mouth watering with eggplant before." "About ten inches from your belly," the shop keep replies as if he were directing Matt to the subway stop three blocks down. "Tomatoes to the left of that and peppers to the right." He shakes out a shopping bag - one that has been used before - and holds it out near Matt's hand for his use. "Well, eggplant can be mouth watering and melt in your mouth, but I will admit that raw, it rarely creates such a desire. Now, once it has been cooked, that's a thing of beauty." He slips one small eggplant into his bag as well and starts poking around in the garlic cloves. "You ever cooked it before?" "Thanks." A questing hand makes a try for the shopping bag, and finds it on the second attempt. With the description for the avocados, though, he has no trouble finding them, or at least it seems that way. Matt lightly touches upon a few, fingers seeking out the bottoms of the fruit to test just how firm or soft they are. "Just once," he admits about cooking eggplant, and a rueful chuckle flavors his words. "I can't exactly say that it went over all that well. I try to stick to easier stuff." Humor lingering in the form of half-smile, he lifts an avocado to his nose to smell it, and then drops it into the bag the vendor supplied. It looks like one of the best avocados out of the whole lot of them available, with that lovely, deep green skin. That Matt can't even see. "Heh. I can understand sticking with the easier stuff. Not everyone is cut out for cooking. My roommate is hopeless. I think he'd eat hotdogs day in and day out if it were up to him." There's a hitch of sorrow in Ash's voice when he speaks of his roommate, something Matt's ears alone can likely pick up. "Where as I like cooking. I like having a whole day to let things stew and roast and soak up flavor and turn into little miracles upon the palate. I think I would have gone into the culinary arts if it wasn't for the fact that I love working construction so much." Matt's nose wrinkles slightly at the idea of eating nothing but hotdogs until the end of times. "I'll admit I like convenient food a lot, but that's a bit much even for me," he says, his amusement light in the face of that subtle hitch of sorrow. He doesn't comment on it. He doesn't even hint that he picked up on it, although he did. Voices and everything about them, from pitch to tone the rhythm of words said, are largely how he perceives people, after all. Besides their smell, and their general shapes thanks to particularly helpful sound waves. Like the thwack of a dropped palette as it hits the street pavement halfway down the block. "Construction work over cooking?" he asks, brows lifting up above his dark sunglasses. A smile follows shortly after, slight but there. "That's not exactly a choice you hear every day." "I'd say that I like to work with my hands, but both occupations sort of allow for that," Ash offers, pausing in his food gathering for the chat, only vaguely staring the produce now. "But I think it's more the fact that it's a lasting thing when you do construction - something people can look at for years to come and reflect upon. Food, while tasty, doesn't last forever. Unless of course, it's mostly preservatives and that's just a little bit scary, if you know what I mean." He grins, whether Matt can see it or not. "How about you?" "I guess, in a way, you're building things with both," Matt says, thoughtful about it, nodding his head slightly to go along with it. Is it the kind of head motion that only those that work closely with the blind would recognize as vestigial in a person that once upon a time could see and had learned strong social cues, instead of having been blind from birth. The average person, though, would probably think nothing of it. "I think that's a good reason. Making something that people can enjoy for years, I mean." He has not selected any other produce to go along with the avocado. To be fair, avocados can definitely be solo purchases. "Me? Ahh, I'm an attorney," he admits, with a cringing, apologetic humor, caused by the understanding that most people don't look fondly upon lawyers. Hell, Matt doesn't consider most lawyers he knows very highly, himself, either. "Defense attorney. Mostly." "Defense attorney, eh?" Ash is curious, definitely. "Sounds like a noble profession, but it seems like sometimes you might get stuck with some pretty nasty clients." He shifts his weight and continues the conversation. "Plus, lots of schooling involved! I... well, never really got into schooling, to my dad's disappointment. I think he wanted me to live and breathe the stuff like him, but I didn't even finish high school." He pauses, thoughtfully. "Well, that's not quite right. A GED kind of put a nice closure on it, in the end." "Well, I try to be a little selective," he says, maybe a touch wry. "But everybody deserves to have actual /fair/ representation." Matt places such emphasis on the fair part of what he says that he must no doubt believe in it, rather than just simply repeating something he learned in law school and has to parrot back. "Yeah, my dad was pretty adamant about me hitting the books," he says, his tone of voice both fond and a little melancholy with the mention of his father. "He'd been a boxer, and worked at the docks to make ends meet. Wanted me to be something more than that. Even though, really, what he did was pretty respectable, honestly. The world needs way more guys keeping society going like that, you know, dock workers, construction, than it does suits in courtrooms." "Yeah, the world usually has them, but few people ever tell them that they're needed. Lots of guys I know tend to feel like cogs, not like integral members of what keeps the place moving - but you know, as soon as one of the unions go on strike, the citizens around them feel it, keenly." Ash nod and wrinkles his nose. "Well, I'd invite you up for dinner, but I've been told that randomly cooking for people even though your apartment is empty generally doesn't work so well in New York. I'm used to a much smaller community. But you know... it's still a thing, if you're not too weirded out by the offer." "It's sad that unions have to go on strike in the first place. Both to get acceptable living standards and just to be noticed by everyone else," Matt says. It is in agreeance with what the other man has said, if expanding on more of the theme. With the totally unexpected invitation, which comes with an explanation as to why he would find it unexpected in the first place, he laughs. He isn't laughing at the other man, just laughing about the surprise of such an honest extension of friendliness. It caught him off-guard, but in a pleasant way, not a New York norm sort of way. He hems on it, and says, "I'd actually take you up on the offer, but I have plans tonight. But thank you, I appreciate it." "Hey, no problem, man. Having plans is a wonderful thing." Ash moves around to present his purchases to the shopkeep to be ringed up. "But if you ever have a free night, I tend to shop here near every day. Stan has some great veggies and manages to keep on hand all the spices I like." He is fishing for his wallet when his total is quoted back to him. Matt manages to keep his mouth clapped shut against the sardonic laugh in his head about having a free night, ever, but he shuffles the thought quickly off in order to puzzle over this other man's open friendliness. Of course, the accent doesn't match New York, so maybe it is just habits of a recent transplant still going strong instead of being squashed flat under the bald tires of city cabs. Like the spring day and all that it has brought with it, he has to admit it is a tad refreshing. Once the other man has squared away his tab, he offers, "I'm Matt, by the way." The bag with single avocado is shuffled to the hand holding his suit jacket so that he can hold out his free one for a shake. It is more or less offered in his direction. "Ash." He finishes his purchase, puts his wallet away and takes his bag, all before turning and taking Matt's hand. He might be a little bit grimy to the touch. He gives Matt a firm shake and a grin, then releases. "Don't know how often your near here, but maybe I'll see you around? T'would be nice." He raises a hand to wave, not really recognizing why it is a fruitless gesture. "Have a great time in this lovely weather!" And then he starts moseying on. If Matt minds the grime, he doesn't comment or react to it in any unfavorable way. He notices it, but it is what it is. His shake is equally firm, but not overly so, with hands a little more calloused than one might expect out of a lawyer who only hits books. "I don't live that far away. And my office is just a couple of blocks over," he says, half of a smile in place. "I'd say I'd see you, but..." he adds, with total tongue-in-cheek humor that manages to turn the smile into a grin. So bad, Matt. "Nice to meet you, Ash. Have a good day, yourself." And, as Ash goes, Matt turns his attention back to the vendor, so he can pay for his single, awesome avocado.