ArchivedLogs:In The Way
| In The Way | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2013-10-04 ' |
| Location
<NYC> Little Italy | |
Like the original but smaller and with a much greater density of flags and also mostly restaurants and in retrospect rather nothing like the original at all. The streetlights have come on, making warmer pools of light between patches of dim for Jim and Melinda to pass through as they stroll down the sidewalk. Jim has a take-out box of IHOP hung off the crook of his elbow, hands crammed in the pockets of a tatty tweed jacket. It's hard to really call him polished up, with his hair growing out, his scruffy jaw, the long scar running down his face, but he's at least stepped up from 'hobo' to 'thrift store shopper'. To avoid looking like Melinda is his god damn case-worker. "-so then Hive asks me... like. You wanna office?" Jim is doing that New York voice projection, where he speaks flat-dispassionate, but with VOLUME, and a bit of alarming sincerity. GRIPE. Grouse. "And then I think back and... shit, y'know how long it's been since I been working?" He's smacking up a free hand at whatever leaves hang down, like he's giving them high-fives. Except that his touch causes them to so slightly WITHER further into their fall colors. Snacking. Or really, call it what it is - COMFORT eating, Jim. "Actually, I don't know. Three? Four months? Oh, no. Wait. Most of this year? Shit." Melinda considers as she keeps pace with the grumpy older man. She must have finished her IHOP at the store, as she's picking at a take out box of cannoli from one of the many restaurants near by. The name is printed on the box, but the lid and the interior flaps obscure the actual name and partial address. She is a patient listener, or a hungry one, picking up her dessert and trying to take a careful bite without squishing all of the delightful filling out the other side. She's dressed for summer still, with a loose gray cotton skirt and a baggy t-shirt which obscures most of the lower garment, mint and light gray slashing diagonal across the top. She's got a purse over one shoulder, pinned against her side, and black ballet flats on her feet. Suddenly, around the corner, shouts from some foreign language can be heard. As these shouts become louder and louder, a young woman runs forward around the corner, not spotting Jim and Melinda. From around the corner, another feminine figure shouts out to her, in Romanian. "{ Nico! Nicoleta! Watch out! }" The woman turns her head for a second, and suddenly, THWAM. Nicoleta smashes straight into Jim, a small, closed switchblade falling out of her hand, opening. The other feminine figure comes running up. "{ Nicoleta, are you okay?! }" The figure then spots Jim and Melinda, speaking english. "Oh, I'm..I'm so sorry, are you guys alright? Allow me to apologize for my sister, please." The figure, then slowly goes to pick Nicoleta up, grabbing the switchblade, looking up at them with a face of guilt. "She..she didn't hurt you, did she?" It's possibly wrong to say Jim is unflapped; he just kind of looks nonplussed even when he /is/ surprised, with a sort of casualness to the reflex of using an elbow to bump Melinda a little behind him. His one hand doesn't even come out of his pocket - he's /solid/ against the impact - but his eyes are ALERT now and hard. This /is/ New York, "Yeah, t'wanna watch where you're going?" He's - actually yelling at the second individual, the one that apologized to him, and... yeah, he's pretty OPENLY doing a rapid pat down of his pockets. Melinda oofs when she is bumped behind Jim, but she doesn't fight back. Instead she takes another step back, keeping the man between herself and the two newcomers. She reaches out quietly and takes his food from under his elbow so his arms are free. Her eyes flicker down toward the blade and then up at the faces of the two women before her, lips pursing. "I'm sorry, so sorry!", shouts the second individual. Nicoleta rises up. "Don't apologize, brother. It's not your fault these scumbags got in my way.". This remark makes the male visibly flustered. "Uh, don't be so rude, you don't even know them..." The male sees Jim checking his pockets, which, still have all their belongings in them. "I apologize, again, for my sister's behavior and attitude. I am Toma, and this is Nicoleta." He does a short bow, as Nicoleta scoffs, speaking. "Whatever." She grabs her knife from her brother. "Why were you two in my fucking way, anyways?" This, again, makes Toma flinch a bit. A dip of washed-out blue eyes to the knife in - Nicoleta is it? - the girl's hand, and Jim again jumps his attention back to... the poor lad hovering off to the side - even if he's answering Nicoleta initially, "It's a god damn sidewalk, sweetheart." Praise his restraint to not flat out say 'I'm walkin' here'. He makes it /easy/ for Melinda to ever-so-casually ease off to side with his /dinner leavings/. "Look, Why don't we just all go our separate ways? There's no reason to be feisty on the streets. There's enough space for everyone." Melinda waves an arm to gesture to the rest of the sidewalk and the slower, night time streets. "No harm's been done. Everyone's okay." There is a glance in the direction of the bandages on Nicoleta's arm, but Mel's gaze returns quickly to the faces of the twins. "It's a nice night. Let's just... move on." "I agree with her, let's just move o-" Toma is interrupted quickly by Nicoleta. "You have an attitude, { fucker }? Do I need to teach you a { fucking } lesson?" She includes several curses in Romanian, as she brandishes the knife. Instead of aiming at him, she instead aims it as her bandages. Toma's quickly rushing towards her, grabbing the knife and pulling her back, whispering into her ear, in Romanian. "{ No. Don't do this. We don't need enemies. }" Nicoleta's quickly bantering back. "{ Bu- fine. I'll let him fucking off this time. }" She then turns the opposite direction, quipping at Jim. "You're not worth my time, anyways." Toma looks up to them, with an honest face of guilt. "I'm uh, so sorry about her. She has..moods." "What." Jim is saying right ON TOP of Nicoleta's tirade, "Kid, I can't understand a god damn word coming out of your mouth - woah, hey!" A teenager brandishing a knife at him doesn't get much or a rise, but when she turns it on herself he looks a little more /disgruntled/, "Jesus, okay, sure. Whatever you say, alright?" He raises up his hands and takes a step back, giving the girl space and kind of body-plowing Melinda along on side with him. "No, really," Melinda speaks up, a small lift in her tone when Jim runs into her again. She steps back with him. "He's not worth your time. Kind of a bull headed guy, all bark." She wrinkles her nose and keeps stepping back when Jim does, both to stay up right and to hopefully help nudge them out of the situation. "Whatever. I don't want to waste my blood on you, anyways." Nicoleta quips again, walking away. Toma again bows his head in guilt. "Really, really sorry. That could have been..problematic. It was nice, uh, meeting you, I have to go make sure she doesn't do anything reckless." He then turns around, chasing after her, shouting in Romanian again. "{ Nicoleta, wait! }" "Yeah, uh." Jim eyes Nicoleta's bandaged arm as she makes her departure, "Good luck with... that, dude." He doesn't take his eyes off the two god damn YOUNG People for a long while. Then turns and crams his hand back in pocket, reaching out to take his midnight snack back from Melinda, "Fucking /illegals/. - you a'right?" "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. How about you? Did she cut you?" Melinda steps back another step to get a look at Jim, inspecting his clothes for new holes. Once he sticks his arm out, she hands him back his munchies. She shakes her head as she stares at her dessert, closing the box up and re-securing it with the string dangling from her finger. "Shit. Never quite get used to having a knife waved around like that." "It's /weirder/ when they turn it on themselves -- AT you," Jim complains, letting Melinda look him over for stab wounds... in that he's looking himself over and has no reason to obstruct her view, patting down his shirt. "I dunno, I don't have any proper fucking nerve endings when I'm planting over... s'fine." No holes. He falls right back into just WANDERING along, "Christ, Mel. Teenagers should be kept in boxes. Like fucking VEAL." Mel turns and walks with him, her head hanging a little lower on slumped shoulders. "Yeah. But can we find a different term for it? I don't think it helps referring them as food." Fading into the night, Jim's dry voice lingers last. Though fading into the distance: "Whatever." | |
