ArchivedLogs:Name Dropping

Name Dropping
Dramatis Personae Ion, Mariot, Rasputin	2014-01-15 '
Location <NYC> Central Park North
Central Park North is slightly quieter than its southern counterpart, being further uptown and slightly out of the bustle of the City - insofar as one can escape the bustle of the City even here, in the acres of green and blue that make up Central Park. The reservoir is in the northern half, providing miles of jogging and biking trails along the clear water, as well as benches for people to sit and rest. Near dusk on a cold and cloudy Winter's day might not be the best time at which to see Central Park, but at least one non-citizen is presently rather enjoying a stroll. Moving towards the Tavern on the Green, Mariot has her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her overcoat, while a scarf and hat combine to expose only part of her face to the chill. Boot-heels click rhythmically on the path, though she lets her gaze roam freely over her surroundings. At least two non-citizens, really, though there's admittedly little to distinguish Ion from the rest. Shiny tall (ridiculously expensive) boots, nice leather jacket, dark jeans, a soft pretzel in hand and a typically New-York-Brash /attitude/ at the least -- he's walking backwards down the path towards Mariot, yelling something in loud Spanish that may not be intelligible to non-speakers (given his ghetto slang, it may not be intelligible to /speakers/) but can /probably/ be identified from tone at least as Something Not To Say Around His Mother. But cursing aside it's apparently in good /nature/; the man he's yelling at has a /laugh/ in return, a /return/ curse that is nevertheless appended with an amused: "Yah, see you next /week/, cholo." Ion is grinning as he turns back around to walk forwards, tearing off a pinch of his soft pretzel to hold the bite up towards his shoulder, where a pigeon perches in contrasting dirty-city-drab against his Very Nice Jacket. "He kisses his mama with that mouth," he is chiding -- apparently to the pigeon. "I should know, too, I played poker with /her/ last week." The pigeon bobs it's head to Ion, eating the pinch of pretzel, before /speaking/. "Is that where you won your outfit?". Rasputin laughs a bit, as ze looks around, spotting Mariot. Bobbing hir head in a rememberance nod, Rasputin continues to Ion, also a non-citizen in ways. "Where do you meet all these people?" Mariot's attention is indeed caught by the human-avian conversation, and she can't help but slow her pace a little as she attempts to determine whether she really is seeing another talking bird, or if this is a different iteration of New York's myriad oddities. "Hah. I won my outfit as {goddamn} /king/ of the mother-fucking /apocalypse/, pajarito. You survive a thing like that, hermano, you /earn/ yourself a /prize/. What should we get for you, mmm? Maybe a fucking -- /gold/-plated kitty collar, mmm?" Ion's shoulder twitches upward gently, just enough to get Rasputin's attention as he nods towards Mariot. "Catching attention there. It's because you're so damn /handsome/, you know." "Isn't gold heavy as hell or something? I don't want my head to like, fall off or any of that.". Rasputin is a pinnacle of intelligence. "Yes, I'm beautiful. We all know this. Oh man, did I tell you, I met /Tony Stark/ yesterday. I think I may have sent him to the mental hospital. We'll find out on the news probably." Rasputin grins, before turning to Mariot. "I've met her before. I was the coolest hawk ever. Now I'm the coolest pigeon ever.". Mariot's pace further slows, and she offers a low laugh. "So you've moved on?", she asks the bird as she comes to a halt, her accent both educated and British. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you get around the area a fair amount. It's nice to see you again, however." "/Diamond/, then. You want a diamond kitty-collar, I know they have, yeah? Stupid rich people, they'll stick diamond on everything, spend more on their cats than most people do on their childrens." In contrast to Mariot, Ion's accent is raw and uneducated, a coarse Latino bent roughening his syllables. "How I meet all these people, huh? How /you/ meet all these people? You know my little-friend?" His brows raise towards Mariot, an easy smile on his face as he indicates Rasputin on his shoulder. And offers another piece of pretzel up to the bird. Chomping the piece of pretzel, Rasputin isn't hindered in speaking at all. "I was having lunch at a park. Actual lunch, not like, bread crumbs, paid someone to go into a deli and get it for me. I am amassing a hobo army, slowly, to help me take over the world.". Ze laughs, looking up to Mariot. "I bump into people. Sometimes they /don't/ go insane. Rarely.". Back onto the subject of diamonds, Rasputin frowns. "I think diamonds are /heavier/ than gold.". "I doubt that you'd manage to get a whole collar made entirely out of diamonds," Mariot smilingly answers the bird, before nodding to his current ride. "Yes - or someone very similar indeed, certainly. A sandwich-eating hawk, with a rather unusual story to tell. Certainly one of my more unusual encounters since coming here." "Naah, but you sure as shit can get collars /crusted/ with diamonds. I'll find you. Stupid-expensive like, a, maybe a alligator-skin one, huh? You'll fit in so good with me and the firebug, eh? Be all /tricked out/." /Just/ in case Rasputin has forgotten about Ion's bling he stretches his arm out and up, flourishing his (/stupid/-expensive alligator-skin-band diamond-crusted) watch up towards the pigeon. Who /clearly/ needs to know the time all of a sudden. "You know, they make, ah, ah, phone. Phone now that they build into a /watch/, you think we could get you like a mini-tablet built in a collar hmm?" His grin stretches /wider/ at Mariot. "/Unusual/? Why everyone think you so unusual, hermano, you one of the most-normal kids I know." "I thought you guys were the weird ones, with your opposable thumbs and full color vision.". Rasputin teases about the unusual comments. Staring at the watch, Rasputin ponders. "Man, now that I'm like BFFs with Tony Stark, I should have a computer built into my subconscious. It's probably possible. And then, I can just, do everything /anywhere/.". Both brows quirk upwards as Mariot catches sight of that eye-catchingly gaudy timepiece, but Rasputin then trumps that surprise with 'Tony Stark' and the notion of intangible computing. "I have to admire the subtlety of your name-dropping," she says with a smile, "but... you know Tony Stark? I suppose that if anyone could manage to bump into him, it could well be you." Gaudy, /hah/, Ion's watch is downright /tasteful/ -- well, at least in comparison to some of the others floating around the Brotherhood. His shit-eating /grin/ over his watch, though, well, that's probably gaudy as heck. "You pegged us, pajarito, we are /all/ big-damn-/freaks/. Tch." He grimaces at his empty pretzel-wrapped, crumpling it in a ball to toss it in exaggerated basketball-shot towards a nearby trashcan, arms lifting in victory over his head when it dings off the rim and then topples inside. "That was good but I think I need some /real/ food, huh, hermano? You can tell me /all/ about your best-friend Tony Stark on the way, you think he'd help trick out my /bike/?" His fingers touch to his forehead, ticking outward in lazy salute to Mariot though he's already turning to wander off. "Yeah, man. Tony Stark and I are tight. Maybe. Next time I bump into him in the park, I'll totally ask.". Rasputin grins, before waving a tiny pigeon wing to Mariot, riding along on Ion's shoulder. "Bye, lady! Nice seeing you again!". Laughing, Mariot shakes her head as she flashes a grin at Rasputin. "Maybe next time, I can buy you a sandwich," she suggests to the part-time avian, before nodding acknowledgement of Ion's gesture and raising a gloved hand in farewell to him.