<NYC> East Village
Historically a center of counterculture, the East Village has a character all its own. Home to artists and musicians of many colours, this neighborhood is known for its punk vibe and artistic sensibilities. The birthplace of many protests, literary movements, it is home to a rather diverse community and vibrant nightlife.
It's been far from a pleasant day, not freezing but still chill, made worse by the constant grey drizzle falling from the sky. People hurry about their business, not lingering /long/ in the wet-cold weather. A lot of black umbrellas, a lot of harried expressions. In this Maya is a bright-bright spot of cheer to break up the grey -- her umbrella is bright green, with large googly frog-eyes atop it and a face on one of its partitions to make it look froggy as well. Her jacket is a knee-length purple, her rain boots pink, as are the salwar kameez pants falling from below her jacket. And she's humming, to herself, quiet and light as she makes her way down the sidewalks of the Village, away from the subway.
Maya is not alone! Emerging from the subway a few moments after she leaves it behind is a young, blundering figure -- clad in dark, muted colors. A dark blue hoodie, the hood pulled up; black sweatpants and sneakers. Peter's chitin-clad face is mostly hidden; he's gotten quite adept at keeping his features out of sight.
Nevertheless, even Peter's agility isn't flawless. He's on his way past the crowd -- past Maya -- when someone bumps into his nylon backpack. Suddenly, he stumbles forward toward Maya, from behind, hoodie briefly dipping down to expose a dark blue face -- white teeth -- and a yelping grimace.
Probably most outstanding is how quickly he recovers, rolling back from Maya as he yanks his hoodie back up. "Oh jeez I'm sorry uhh pardon--"
"Careful, careful." Maya sounds more warm than /annoyed/, a smile on her face as she reaches forward to steady Peter in his stumbling. The smile doesn't fade even when she catches sight of the blue face, though her eyes do fix on Peter for a moment in curiosity. "No, it's alright. I'm bad at watching where I'm going anyway. Spend too much time looking up and around and not nearly enough looking in /front/ of me. No harm done though, right?"
Peter's eyes flicker from left to right in a slight panic when he realizes that his face was briefly exposed; they settle on Maya's umbrella when he realizes that she hasn't drawn back at the sight of his face. "Oh, yeah, I -- thanks, I --" He blushes, face turning a shade of violet. "--like your umbrella." He shuffles forward, tugging his hoodie a few more times, making sure it's secure.
"I do, too. I have another that's a ladybug. And one that's a pink elephant. But I like pink and green together." Maya holds the umbrella out over Peter's head, nudging him lightly in the shoulder with its handle. "Would you like it?" Her eyebrows lift as she watches Peter tug at his hoodie. "A little bit of cheer goes a long way on a grey days. Besides," her voice is still warm here, rather than mocking, "if you're concerned, I've noticed that outlandish umbrellas tend to draw eyes a lot more than the people beneath them do."
"Oh," Peter replies, his flush deepening; his eyes zip from the umbrella to Maya's face, instinctively slipping a bit farther under that umbrella, out of the miserable drizzle. "I guess --" The mention of drawing eyes away causes Peter to bristle, just a little. "Maybe," he finishes, with just a hint of a smile. "I mean, I try to just -- blend in, most of the time. Oh, thanks for the cover. Are you -- going this way? I don't want to keep you -- and if I took it, what would _you_ use?"
"I guess there's something to be said for blending in, too. But this is New York, when it comes to /fashion/ at least it's hard to stand out." There's a note of laugh in Maya's voice. "Except maybe the naked cowboy downtown." She shrugs a little dismissively at the question of what she'd use. "Oh, I'm not going so far. I won't /melt/. It's kind of pleasant sometimes. Harder to look up with Kermit over me, really."
"There isn't much to look up at, today," Peter mentions with a hint of wistfulness. "Most people don't really look up, you know. They don't notice stuff going on over their heads--" His hand drifts to his wrist, touching it instinctively. "--but there's all sorts of stuff going on, sometimes. Like--" He pauses, as if considering. "--um, amazing -- things."
"Oh, most places around here are full of amazing things," Maya opines lightly. She almost absently lifts Peter's hand to press the umbrella handle into it, drifting out from beneath it back into the grey with a curl of fingers. A tip of her head back /up/ to look towards the rooftops. The drizzly sky. "Just kind of have to keep your eyes open for them."