[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *Chinatown is busy, merchants closing up shop, people scurrying home from their businesses with trudging steps, feet splashing through half slushy puddles of rainbow run off. The Streets are narrower here, the shops smaller, more ramshackle than in the main drag that draws many of Chicago's tourists. No, this was Chinatown proper, where people irked out a living out of the public eye, catering to residents rather than culture hungry outsiders.
Lou sticks out like a sore thumb, ghetto diva lounging on the hood of a dark blue corvette, long pink nails drumming on a bony knee. Impatient. To those who make assumptions upon seeing her skin color and sensing her Gaia given anger - A threat. The section of street where the corvette is sloppily parked is given a wide berth by wary pedestrians.*
[Marni] She probably shouldn't be wandering around on her own this late in her pregnancy. She probably shouldn't have been wandering around on her own when she conceived, either, but that ship done sailed, son. Fact is, she loves chinese food, and Ray is working late and has already learned that he cannot keep his mate inside when she decides she's going out. Especially now when she's so uncomfortably fat, so irritably close to being done, while labor refuses to start so that she can get it over with already.
Tonight it's not trouble she craves (though she does crave enough of that - she simply has common sense to keep her out of it while she cannot fight effectively), but rather a bowl of noodles from the House Of Noodles. Nothing else will suffice, she wants HoN or nothing at all, and she's accustomed to getting what she wants one way or the other. Which is why, the very VERY pregnant gnawer exits HoN with a steaming bowl of noodles in hand, her expression one of bliss as she inhales the aroma, and makes her way toward a bench. She settles to sit with an 'OOF' that suggests getting up will be a very complicated ordeal, and digs into her meal.
Belatedly noticing Lou sprawled out on the corvette. When Lou looks up, Marni waves with a chopstick, before putting it back into it's preferred use - shoveling noodles into her mouth.
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *Marni was not difficult to spot, enlarged as she was with her squalling brat to be. So it is that the noodle scarfing raggie offers a wave, and is responded with a jerk of Lou's chin in acknowledgement. Yet the ahroun doesn't move, apparently waiting for something, her eyes scanning the streets, her jaw working on bubble gum.
POP.
A thin weasel of a man pokes his head out from the door of the nearest shop, and the metallic ratchetting of a heavy duty garage door opening is Lou's cue to deke into her sportscar and ease the purring motor-beast into captivity. The door shuts behind her, and a few short moments later, Lou emerges and makes her way across the street with a hip rolling swagger. Bawling around a mouthful of gum.*
Sheeyit girl. You bes' be gettin back to yo crib, you look like you gon' pop, fo' sho. How much rent that brat got left to pay?
[Marni] She rolls her eyes, but chuckles as she chews up whats in her mouth, resting her bowl on her swollen belly. It's one perk of pregnancy, carrying around a table with you everywhere you go. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "Supposedly less than a week. Ain't too sure the Bean here ever's gonna come out."
She sighs, and shakes her head, before shoving another mouthful of noodles into her gob, before "Wan'sum?" Offering to the other girl..
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] Shit yeah.
*Lou opens her palm for the bowl, slurping a hearty mouthful of noodles up before handing -no- one more mouthful - ok now she hands it back. Scrawny gnawer gnashing noodles into gum for the satisfying illusion of still eating something later on. A pink tongue skates over her teeth as she looks the pregnant woman over, and offers generously.*
Want I should punch you in the gut?
[Marni] She takes the bowl back when it's offered, not having worried about how many bites were taken or where. She can always get another bowl - one of the benefits of having a rich baby daddy. She takes a bite, and then narrows her gaze over at Lou with that offer.
"Ya do, an' I'll fuckin break you after I drop this kid." There is no faster way to get up a pregnant woman's ire than to threaten the baby, even under guise of being helpful. Then, she dimples into a smile, and shrugs. "It'll happen sooner or later."
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] Donchu trip gurl, I's jus playin with yo' pretty ass. What I wanna fuck witcher kid for? Sheeyit, drink yerself some caster oil or some shit.
*A snerk, Lou raising an eyebrow before trying to blow a bubble and failing due to noodle complication. A bounce of narrow shoulders as the darker woman leans casually against the House of Noodles storefront. A couple starting as they come out of the establishment and are confronted with ANGER to their left, pair quickly scurrying away. Lou bad for business, clearly.*
So where's yo' pissy assed kin?
[Marni] Lou may be bad for business, but that means there will be more noodles for Marni, as soon as these ones settle. Pregnancy has done nothing at all toward taming her hunger. It's likely nothing will - well, save one thing, but they don't talk about that. Not since deciding to name The Bean after her, that is.
As for her pissy assed kin, she arches a brow. "Which kin is that?" Curious... because she certainly can't mean Ray...
[Jack Hill] There are a half-dozen restaurants within a two block radius; including a dim sum place right behind Marni's chosen branch, with red brocade curtains shot through with faded gold thread and neon signs in Chinese and English characters glowing dully into the (relative) warmth of the falling night. The mercury crept above freezing today and the sidewalks are clear of ice and snow - on the north side of the street, at least. That snowmelt is starting to refreeze again in the choked gutters, and the slagpiles of dull gray slush shoveled up by storeowners or the odd city garbage truck have a crystalline exoskeleton now - more ice than snow, a lacy dun gray in the orange light of the street lamps.
The door behind the pair swings open - three men, one, a black man in a crisp suit with a wool overcoat in his 30s, one, a white man - older still - in overalls, a carhart coat and a NASCAR baseball cap, the last younger than both wearing a t-shirt under a sports jacket under a short gray wool peacoat emerge. They have that cloud of laughter around them that carries over from a good meal, but they're already breaking up.
"Thanks, man." - says gray coat, blond beard to the big man in the overalls, reaching to shake hands but going further, clasping forearms. "This has been insanely helpful."
"You coming for the pancake breakfast?" says the Suit.
"Are you kidding me? There's only one thing I like better than pancake breakfasts."
A moment of expectant silence. Blond beard's face splits into a quick, engaging grin.
"Spaghetti dinners."
Someone's phone rings. It's Dies Irae. "Shit, that's me - " he says, grabbing for the phone. They're saying their goodbyes, splitting off in different directions. He's speaking low into the phone. But he stops when the big guy in the overalls is still in shouting distance, holds the iPhone away from his cheek. "Hey, Howie! When's the vote?" "NEXT THURSDAY - " is the big guy's reply.
Jack waves him off, tucks the phone back against the ear and repeats the information into the receiver.
[Jack Hill] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDFFHaz9GsY ringtone!
to Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins, Marni
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] Pasty assed Fianna ho, red hair an a shitty tuu-
*Lou trails off. Heavily made up eyes narrow behind knock off raybans, two dark fingers flicking in the direction of the Silverfang kin talking on the phone nearby. A pop of oriental flavored gum punctuates the gesture, as - master of tact - the gnawer bawls*
Oh SNAP! Lookit this shit, we got us a Prince Charmin in the howse! Sound off for royalty baby! Hells Yeah!
[Marni] the ring tone drags her attention from lou to Jack, and she tips her head, slightly. A slow inhale, and lips curl into a chuckling smirk. "OooohHOOO, looks like Lady Kate got herself another one in town..." She drags her eyes appreciatively over Jack's form, because well, that's what she does. Some things never change...
At some point it clicks who Lou is talking about. Red hair, fianna... "Oh! The Doc... I dunno, she ain't answer to me. Sure she's doin something important though, she usually is." Marni likes Imogen, and enjoyed their conversation last time immensely. "Possibly even findin me a midwife to help evict the Bean."
[Jack Hill] Prince Charming looks like anything but to human eyes. He's somewhere in his mid-twenties, about six one, a bit on the thin side, though underneath that jacket his shoulders are broad enough. Both wool coat and the sport coat hang open; beneath them, a white t-shirt that says Nobody Expects the Macroeconomic Inquisition.
And, just now, he's tugging an oft-folded baseball cap out of the depths of some internal pocket and slipping it over his mop of (rather shaggy) hair. Dirty blond, needs a cut, just like he needs a shave. He's got a bristle of more-than-three days growth of beard, not trimmed to some neat shape but scraggly underneath his throat.
Maybe's he growing it for warmth in the Chicago winter.
Marni are Lou are both looking at him; he's still speaking into the phone while fumbling into an inner pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He looks up, gives them the sort of abstracted half-smile meant to encompass strangers. There's no spark of recognition for the name Kate, but he's keeping them in view as he finishes his conversation and drops the phone to thumb through a handful of text messages.
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *A shrill whistle is sure to interrupt whatever conversation Jack was having, Lou gesturing him over to the pregnant gnawer (better dressed as she's a Kept woman these days) and her own Gutter-chic self. *
Motherfucker you deaf?! I say hell the fuck O.
*Lou would seem to have selective hearing at the very least, no reaction to Marni's appraisal of "the doc" though the information is tucked away for later.
[Marni] She just chuckles under her breath as Lou gestures for Jack to come over and join them. Marni shifts in her seat, a little, then adjusts so that she can swing her legs under the bench idly, much like a little kid. Babies havin' babies. It's a tragedy, really. Only not so much.
She lets Lou be Lou, because really, who could stop her? She eats some more of her noodles, and chomps them contemplatively as he keeps them in view.
Like that'll save him...
[Jack Hill] "Sorry - " he returns, a frown creasing his brow, somewhat bushy eyebrows drawn sharply inward. Some part of him would like to clear out his ear as people tend to do in cartoons after a whistle like that, but it seems pointless. The sound waves don't get stuck. It's all for comic effect.
Jack gives Lou half-a-smile. It's not supercilious - there's a certain easy charm there - but it's not precisely friendly either. Call it distant. The look you give strangers on a train when you accidentally meet their eyes when you were supposed to be staring off at nothing. " - where you talking to me?"
The iPhone screen goes dead. He tucks it back into some inner pocket and taps out a cigarette for himself. Staying where he is, just in front of the dim sum place, holding the freed cigarette casually between fore and middle fingers as he starts patting himself down, searching for a light. And he looks around, demonstratively, right and left, mouth twisted inside the beard in a look of - well - genial befuddlement. "I don't think we've met. I thought you were talking to someone else."
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] Well ainchu fancy witcher big ass words on your shirt.
Shit yeah I'm talking at you. You got "Royal" written all over yo ass, boy.
*A jerk of her chin, Lou's hand sliding to a skinny hip as the other points a pink nail to the silverfang kin. Despite her obnoxious and confrontational persona, she's offering a grin, teeth white against the backdrop of dark lips.*
M'Lou. This fat ho be Marni. You is?
[Marni] He's patting himself down, looking for a light, and Marni balances the bowl of noodles on her belly so that she can reach into her pocket, and pull out a battered bic. She tosses it easily to Jack with a "catch" to warn him it's on it's way, before she goes back to her meal.
"Don't mind Lou, here. She's harmless. Mostly." Not at all.
[Jack Hill] "Right." This is the point where Jack is working out whether Lou is crazy, a prostitute, a mugger, or just bored. That befuddled grin deepens a bit; there's a certain spark in the corner of his eye. "I'm fucking Prince Harry. Let me introduce you to my future - " Then Marni's bic comes flying, end over end. Jack catches, with a substrate quickness that is human. He's an athlete. Was an athlete, and he catches it with ease against his chest - lean, not large - then turns it over and thumbs the mechanism, flint to steel. A spark.
A flame.
It illuminates his face. Oh, the blood's there, underneath, that current - but it's a minor note. They see him and know what he is, but he's the sort that Falcon overlooks. That Falcon would never accept if he were to change. The blood's so dilute in him that he's practically a commoner. "Thanks, man - " Jack says to Marni, tossing the lighter back to her with that same easy, unassuming precision, like he's been tossing baseballs or footballs back and forth all his life. He's got the rangy build of a long-distance runner rather than the power of a football player who made it past the high school varsity squad. Then:
"Shit." Understanding, just like that, sparks in his eyes, an unremarkable shade of blue-gray. "Jesus fucking christ. You're like - " and he makes a gesture with his free hand, finds moving, running as he takes a welcome drag on his cigarette. God knows what it means. " - right? One of - ?"
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *Its the startled understanding that has Lou laughing, it taking only that much to endear Jack to her. She pushes up from the wall with a fluid sort of grace moving her spindly limbs, a hand shaking out curly hair.*
Fo' Sho we is.
*Lou pokes her sunglasses up and looks the child of falcon's brood over more thoroughly. The merest whisper of madness and majesty. Its enough to get a snort.*
Fuck me you's light in the ass boy. Fresh as Cream. Got you a babysitter up in the WindzeeCee?
[Marni] All bets point to Lou being just a crazy bored prostituting mugger, but that's only ocne you get to know her. She catches the lighter as it flies back, and tucks it into her pocket, before watching him, and the light as it dawns.
She can't help it - she laughs. She shakes her head at Lou's antics, before gesturing with her chopsticks. "Yeah, we are. Ain't of your polished background, but the same none the less. Ya one of Lady Kates, an' we're gutter rats. Ya met her yet?"
[Jack Hill] "Lady Kate?" he returns, with an incredulous laugh to Marni. Imagining tea and crumpets in some mad hatter's living room. Maybe a crown, for fuck's sake. And he's shaking his head already, mouth pressed together around it to hold back whatever else he might've said. Suggesting, perhaps, that he's not entirely touched. That, when spread thin, the blood loses some of its madness. "Ah - " another shake of his head, a drag of the cigarette, smoke flaring from his nostrils like a dragon.
That's Jack decides he's going to play along. " - no, I haven't had the pleasure. No royal summons yet, you know? Have to wait for my engraved invitation." Then he pushes away from the brick wall, his coat and sport coat swinging open around his t-shirt with all those big ass words.
Macroeconomic.
Inquisition.
And just like that, Jack holds out a hand to Lou, to shake. "Jack Hill. Good to meet you both." And Marni too, stepping forward so the pregnant woman need not stand out. "I'm pretty sure I don't need a babysitter. I swear to god I'm paper trained." The last part ends with a twist of his mouth, a quick, subtle grin for his small joke.
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *Jack's hand is slapped in a gutter shake. No firm grip here, just the smack of skin on skin, Lou hauling a leg up onto the bench beside Marni. She clucks around a wad of gum.*
So whatchu do when you ain't waitin atcher crib fo a invite from the bigs?
*She wobbles her shades and twists her lips into a cocky smirk. A playful predator, heavy on the predator.*
[Marni] She dimples into a grin at his reaction to the idea of Lady Kate, and decides right then and there she likes him. "I might keep'em. As a backup in case my babydaddy goes broke..." it's said as a stage whisper, fully meant to be overheard.
"As for the invitation, I hear it's fanTAStic. Me, i jus' dig through her dumpsters on occasion, jus t'piss her off." When she shakes his hand, her grip is strong but not crushing, a mere suggestion of what she can do, when she's not the size of a blimp. "You wanna BE a babysitter?" A beat, then a chuckle. "Jus' kiddin."
[Jack Hill] "Sorry," he says to Marni, grin deepening as he salutes her with his cigarette, with no genuine hint of sorrow. "I don't do diapers." Which seems final; he finishes it with an edged grin. Then, back to Lou - not quite looking her in the eye, but weather her presence rather better than most humans. For all that he finds his skin does not quite fit his skeleton when he gets this close.
He smokes that cigarette casually, holding the butt near the base between his index and middle fingers, and breathes the smoke upwards so it doesn't choke the pregnant one of them. "Anyway, I'm - uh," a pause, "Director of Community Relations for REACT, actually." Which sounds fifteen times more important than it is, but he doesn't give that part away. "New in town, so I'm still getting a feel for it. I was here back in '06 for a bit; and during the primaries in '08." Oh-six. He says. Oh-eight. "So, yeah. That's what I do. We're - uhm, like ACORN." Then, a quick grin. An old joke he's tossed around before. He probably doesn't realize that the pair of THEM are unlikely to begin to understand it. Or maybe he does: that grin has an awkward edge, like someone repeating a joke from a 1920s joke book about nylons, the sort that needs a footnote to explain the humor. " - without the nuts?"
"Direct democracy stuff," he adds, helpfully. "Registering voters. Sponsoring debates in local elections, right down to alderman. That sort of thing."
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] [baby issue!post around me for a minute!]
[Marni] She arches a brow as he goes on about what he does, which is decidedly more than the diapers he doesn't do. She doesn't recognize the names he tosses around, but at the end, with the helpful addition, she nods.
"Oh, political shit." Human political shit. "I never really paid attention to much of that shit. We have our own politics we gotta deal with. Which would make democracy cry."
She grins again, and lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "We won't hold it against ya though."
[Jack Hill] "Yeah," Jack returns, smoke streaming from his nostrils. He takes another drag, blunt fingers spread over his bearded jaw as he does so. Then inhales the last little bit like a reformed potsmoker, taking it all deep into his lungs. It sounds like he's agreeing with her. "Yeah," he's still grinning, after all. " - most people don't pay any attention to much of that shit.
"Might be why there are so many fuckers digging about in dumpsters while a self-perpetuating oligarchy tightens their reins on power by manipulating the slack jawed masses with porn and deep fried fucking twinkies. I mean," and he sweeps his hand, an open gesture, up and down the street. Marni has a wealthy baby daddy to pay for her clothes and her noodles; Lou's got enough rage to keep her warm at night; enough raw menace to keep her in strange bubble gums, day or night. There are shadows everywhere, though. Pre-teen chinese girls smuggled into the country to service that furtive looking fucker heading into the Oriental Massage Parlor down the street. An old man - the ripe odor of his body sharp in the cold air - walking a three-legged dog on a length of rope, talking to himself. The gleam of the city's office towers, visible even from here, cool and modern and distant. Divine temples, never to be razed or sacked. " - that's one theory, anyway." The grin's fading; something sharp, something passionate underneath the easy charm.
"Glad you won't hold it against me."
[Marni] She blinks, and watches him, listening as he comments about digging out of dumpsters, and how the rich get richer, while the poor...
She chuckles softly. "Maybe it ain't so different after all. Lots a good stuff can be found in dumpsters though. I ain't always had a babydaddy that'd take care a me, ya know. An' I ain't stupid enough t'think it'll last forever, neither. Hell, I ain't likely to live past 30 anyway. But there's plenty out here t'survive on, if ya of a mind t'do so." She brushes her hair back, and shrugs a shoulder. "Jus' sayin. It ain't somethin to be ashamed of, t'be diggin outa dumpsters."
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *Jack's talking about acorns and being the director of communication or some shit, and its well above Lou's head. So she smiles. And nods. And scratches at her hair. What the hell was an oligarcky now? Eyes close behind her shades, gnawer suddenly second thinking having hollered at the kin.*
Sheeyit.
*A grease monkey's wet dream prowls down the street, no doubt bought with money from one of those pre-teen sexshops found in the underbelly of the vice district. The driver wears a cocky grin, and sunglasses not to hide a feral gleam, but the red rimmed coke-eyes he's sporting. Lou's attention is fully hijacked for several moments, as she mutters.*
I like deepfried twinkies...... Man.. I'ma bounce.
*A glance to Marni over her shoulder as Lou uncoils in the direction the car went.*
Leave yo ass chatta Mr. GeeCue. Peace!
*That apparently good bye, Lou slinking towards an alley with technique that would do any ragabash proud. On the hunt for a new caddy, and a fat wallet.*
[Jack Hill] Marni's comment has Jack shaking his head. He breathes in through the nose, flashing Lou a two-fingered peace sign as she goes prowling toward the alley with a level of comfort a man like him - with BROWN on his much-abused baseball cap - should not possess.
"I never said," he tells her, with a certain deliberation. With a certain precision. " - that there was anything shameful about digging in dumpsters. And if that's what you think I said - " a brief, narrow shrug. " - then you weren't listening very well." A glance down at his watch. "Shit - " and back up. "Listen, I gotta jet. You want me to call you a cab or something? Before I go?"
[Marni] She shakes her head, and chuckles. "Nah, ya said that it ain't fair that those up in the high rises are bleedin the rest of us dry so we gotta do some diggin. Or something. Ya can explain it to me another time maybe, if ya want. I like t'listen, even if I hate politicin. I ain't fond of folks too big for their britches, neither."
She winks, as he offers to call her a cab, and shakes her head, though she does hold out a hand. "Nah, I can walk. But if ya can help me get my fat ass off this bench it'd be appreciated. Center o'gravity is all fucked up..."
[Jack Hill] "Here - " He dashes the cigarette into the gutters. The last embers spark briefly, flare and die in the slurry of ice and snow and cinders. Then he circles the bench, stepping carefully over the gutter. It's hiking boots and jeans rather than well-cut trousers and polished loafers. His hands are rough - not big, precisely - but roughened. A life lived half-outdoors, or just working now and then. He holds them both out to give her the leverage she needs to stand straight up, as much as she needs.
When she's standing, he asks, " - sure you don't need a cab?" He's already reaching for his phone, waking it, thumbing through the screen in search of his GPS ap. Looking for the nearest El station.
Lou sticks out like a sore thumb, ghetto diva lounging on the hood of a dark blue corvette, long pink nails drumming on a bony knee. Impatient. To those who make assumptions upon seeing her skin color and sensing her Gaia given anger - A threat. The section of street where the corvette is sloppily parked is given a wide berth by wary pedestrians.*
[Marni] She probably shouldn't be wandering around on her own this late in her pregnancy. She probably shouldn't have been wandering around on her own when she conceived, either, but that ship done sailed, son. Fact is, she loves chinese food, and Ray is working late and has already learned that he cannot keep his mate inside when she decides she's going out. Especially now when she's so uncomfortably fat, so irritably close to being done, while labor refuses to start so that she can get it over with already.
Tonight it's not trouble she craves (though she does crave enough of that - she simply has common sense to keep her out of it while she cannot fight effectively), but rather a bowl of noodles from the House Of Noodles. Nothing else will suffice, she wants HoN or nothing at all, and she's accustomed to getting what she wants one way or the other. Which is why, the very VERY pregnant gnawer exits HoN with a steaming bowl of noodles in hand, her expression one of bliss as she inhales the aroma, and makes her way toward a bench. She settles to sit with an 'OOF' that suggests getting up will be a very complicated ordeal, and digs into her meal.
Belatedly noticing Lou sprawled out on the corvette. When Lou looks up, Marni waves with a chopstick, before putting it back into it's preferred use - shoveling noodles into her mouth.
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *Marni was not difficult to spot, enlarged as she was with her squalling brat to be. So it is that the noodle scarfing raggie offers a wave, and is responded with a jerk of Lou's chin in acknowledgement. Yet the ahroun doesn't move, apparently waiting for something, her eyes scanning the streets, her jaw working on bubble gum.
POP.
A thin weasel of a man pokes his head out from the door of the nearest shop, and the metallic ratchetting of a heavy duty garage door opening is Lou's cue to deke into her sportscar and ease the purring motor-beast into captivity. The door shuts behind her, and a few short moments later, Lou emerges and makes her way across the street with a hip rolling swagger. Bawling around a mouthful of gum.*
Sheeyit girl. You bes' be gettin back to yo crib, you look like you gon' pop, fo' sho. How much rent that brat got left to pay?
[Marni] She rolls her eyes, but chuckles as she chews up whats in her mouth, resting her bowl on her swollen belly. It's one perk of pregnancy, carrying around a table with you everywhere you go. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "Supposedly less than a week. Ain't too sure the Bean here ever's gonna come out."
She sighs, and shakes her head, before shoving another mouthful of noodles into her gob, before "Wan'sum?" Offering to the other girl..
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] Shit yeah.
*Lou opens her palm for the bowl, slurping a hearty mouthful of noodles up before handing -no- one more mouthful - ok now she hands it back. Scrawny gnawer gnashing noodles into gum for the satisfying illusion of still eating something later on. A pink tongue skates over her teeth as she looks the pregnant woman over, and offers generously.*
Want I should punch you in the gut?
[Marni] She takes the bowl back when it's offered, not having worried about how many bites were taken or where. She can always get another bowl - one of the benefits of having a rich baby daddy. She takes a bite, and then narrows her gaze over at Lou with that offer.
"Ya do, an' I'll fuckin break you after I drop this kid." There is no faster way to get up a pregnant woman's ire than to threaten the baby, even under guise of being helpful. Then, she dimples into a smile, and shrugs. "It'll happen sooner or later."
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] Donchu trip gurl, I's jus playin with yo' pretty ass. What I wanna fuck witcher kid for? Sheeyit, drink yerself some caster oil or some shit.
*A snerk, Lou raising an eyebrow before trying to blow a bubble and failing due to noodle complication. A bounce of narrow shoulders as the darker woman leans casually against the House of Noodles storefront. A couple starting as they come out of the establishment and are confronted with ANGER to their left, pair quickly scurrying away. Lou bad for business, clearly.*
So where's yo' pissy assed kin?
[Marni] Lou may be bad for business, but that means there will be more noodles for Marni, as soon as these ones settle. Pregnancy has done nothing at all toward taming her hunger. It's likely nothing will - well, save one thing, but they don't talk about that. Not since deciding to name The Bean after her, that is.
As for her pissy assed kin, she arches a brow. "Which kin is that?" Curious... because she certainly can't mean Ray...
[Jack Hill] There are a half-dozen restaurants within a two block radius; including a dim sum place right behind Marni's chosen branch, with red brocade curtains shot through with faded gold thread and neon signs in Chinese and English characters glowing dully into the (relative) warmth of the falling night. The mercury crept above freezing today and the sidewalks are clear of ice and snow - on the north side of the street, at least. That snowmelt is starting to refreeze again in the choked gutters, and the slagpiles of dull gray slush shoveled up by storeowners or the odd city garbage truck have a crystalline exoskeleton now - more ice than snow, a lacy dun gray in the orange light of the street lamps.
The door behind the pair swings open - three men, one, a black man in a crisp suit with a wool overcoat in his 30s, one, a white man - older still - in overalls, a carhart coat and a NASCAR baseball cap, the last younger than both wearing a t-shirt under a sports jacket under a short gray wool peacoat emerge. They have that cloud of laughter around them that carries over from a good meal, but they're already breaking up.
"Thanks, man." - says gray coat, blond beard to the big man in the overalls, reaching to shake hands but going further, clasping forearms. "This has been insanely helpful."
"You coming for the pancake breakfast?" says the Suit.
"Are you kidding me? There's only one thing I like better than pancake breakfasts."
A moment of expectant silence. Blond beard's face splits into a quick, engaging grin.
"Spaghetti dinners."
Someone's phone rings. It's Dies Irae. "Shit, that's me - " he says, grabbing for the phone. They're saying their goodbyes, splitting off in different directions. He's speaking low into the phone. But he stops when the big guy in the overalls is still in shouting distance, holds the iPhone away from his cheek. "Hey, Howie! When's the vote?" "NEXT THURSDAY - " is the big guy's reply.
Jack waves him off, tucks the phone back against the ear and repeats the information into the receiver.
[Jack Hill] http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDFFHaz9GsY ringtone!
to Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins, Marni
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] Pasty assed Fianna ho, red hair an a shitty tuu-
*Lou trails off. Heavily made up eyes narrow behind knock off raybans, two dark fingers flicking in the direction of the Silverfang kin talking on the phone nearby. A pop of oriental flavored gum punctuates the gesture, as - master of tact - the gnawer bawls*
Oh SNAP! Lookit this shit, we got us a Prince Charmin in the howse! Sound off for royalty baby! Hells Yeah!
[Marni] the ring tone drags her attention from lou to Jack, and she tips her head, slightly. A slow inhale, and lips curl into a chuckling smirk. "OooohHOOO, looks like Lady Kate got herself another one in town..." She drags her eyes appreciatively over Jack's form, because well, that's what she does. Some things never change...
At some point it clicks who Lou is talking about. Red hair, fianna... "Oh! The Doc... I dunno, she ain't answer to me. Sure she's doin something important though, she usually is." Marni likes Imogen, and enjoyed their conversation last time immensely. "Possibly even findin me a midwife to help evict the Bean."
[Jack Hill] Prince Charming looks like anything but to human eyes. He's somewhere in his mid-twenties, about six one, a bit on the thin side, though underneath that jacket his shoulders are broad enough. Both wool coat and the sport coat hang open; beneath them, a white t-shirt that says Nobody Expects the Macroeconomic Inquisition.
And, just now, he's tugging an oft-folded baseball cap out of the depths of some internal pocket and slipping it over his mop of (rather shaggy) hair. Dirty blond, needs a cut, just like he needs a shave. He's got a bristle of more-than-three days growth of beard, not trimmed to some neat shape but scraggly underneath his throat.
Maybe's he growing it for warmth in the Chicago winter.
Marni are Lou are both looking at him; he's still speaking into the phone while fumbling into an inner pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He looks up, gives them the sort of abstracted half-smile meant to encompass strangers. There's no spark of recognition for the name Kate, but he's keeping them in view as he finishes his conversation and drops the phone to thumb through a handful of text messages.
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *A shrill whistle is sure to interrupt whatever conversation Jack was having, Lou gesturing him over to the pregnant gnawer (better dressed as she's a Kept woman these days) and her own Gutter-chic self. *
Motherfucker you deaf?! I say hell the fuck O.
*Lou would seem to have selective hearing at the very least, no reaction to Marni's appraisal of "the doc" though the information is tucked away for later.
[Marni] She just chuckles under her breath as Lou gestures for Jack to come over and join them. Marni shifts in her seat, a little, then adjusts so that she can swing her legs under the bench idly, much like a little kid. Babies havin' babies. It's a tragedy, really. Only not so much.
She lets Lou be Lou, because really, who could stop her? She eats some more of her noodles, and chomps them contemplatively as he keeps them in view.
Like that'll save him...
[Jack Hill] "Sorry - " he returns, a frown creasing his brow, somewhat bushy eyebrows drawn sharply inward. Some part of him would like to clear out his ear as people tend to do in cartoons after a whistle like that, but it seems pointless. The sound waves don't get stuck. It's all for comic effect.
Jack gives Lou half-a-smile. It's not supercilious - there's a certain easy charm there - but it's not precisely friendly either. Call it distant. The look you give strangers on a train when you accidentally meet their eyes when you were supposed to be staring off at nothing. " - where you talking to me?"
The iPhone screen goes dead. He tucks it back into some inner pocket and taps out a cigarette for himself. Staying where he is, just in front of the dim sum place, holding the freed cigarette casually between fore and middle fingers as he starts patting himself down, searching for a light. And he looks around, demonstratively, right and left, mouth twisted inside the beard in a look of - well - genial befuddlement. "I don't think we've met. I thought you were talking to someone else."
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] Well ainchu fancy witcher big ass words on your shirt.
Shit yeah I'm talking at you. You got "Royal" written all over yo ass, boy.
*A jerk of her chin, Lou's hand sliding to a skinny hip as the other points a pink nail to the silverfang kin. Despite her obnoxious and confrontational persona, she's offering a grin, teeth white against the backdrop of dark lips.*
M'Lou. This fat ho be Marni. You is?
[Marni] He's patting himself down, looking for a light, and Marni balances the bowl of noodles on her belly so that she can reach into her pocket, and pull out a battered bic. She tosses it easily to Jack with a "catch" to warn him it's on it's way, before she goes back to her meal.
"Don't mind Lou, here. She's harmless. Mostly." Not at all.
[Jack Hill] "Right." This is the point where Jack is working out whether Lou is crazy, a prostitute, a mugger, or just bored. That befuddled grin deepens a bit; there's a certain spark in the corner of his eye. "I'm fucking Prince Harry. Let me introduce you to my future - " Then Marni's bic comes flying, end over end. Jack catches, with a substrate quickness that is human. He's an athlete. Was an athlete, and he catches it with ease against his chest - lean, not large - then turns it over and thumbs the mechanism, flint to steel. A spark.
A flame.
It illuminates his face. Oh, the blood's there, underneath, that current - but it's a minor note. They see him and know what he is, but he's the sort that Falcon overlooks. That Falcon would never accept if he were to change. The blood's so dilute in him that he's practically a commoner. "Thanks, man - " Jack says to Marni, tossing the lighter back to her with that same easy, unassuming precision, like he's been tossing baseballs or footballs back and forth all his life. He's got the rangy build of a long-distance runner rather than the power of a football player who made it past the high school varsity squad. Then:
"Shit." Understanding, just like that, sparks in his eyes, an unremarkable shade of blue-gray. "Jesus fucking christ. You're like - " and he makes a gesture with his free hand, finds moving, running as he takes a welcome drag on his cigarette. God knows what it means. " - right? One of - ?"
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *Its the startled understanding that has Lou laughing, it taking only that much to endear Jack to her. She pushes up from the wall with a fluid sort of grace moving her spindly limbs, a hand shaking out curly hair.*
Fo' Sho we is.
*Lou pokes her sunglasses up and looks the child of falcon's brood over more thoroughly. The merest whisper of madness and majesty. Its enough to get a snort.*
Fuck me you's light in the ass boy. Fresh as Cream. Got you a babysitter up in the WindzeeCee?
[Marni] All bets point to Lou being just a crazy bored prostituting mugger, but that's only ocne you get to know her. She catches the lighter as it flies back, and tucks it into her pocket, before watching him, and the light as it dawns.
She can't help it - she laughs. She shakes her head at Lou's antics, before gesturing with her chopsticks. "Yeah, we are. Ain't of your polished background, but the same none the less. Ya one of Lady Kates, an' we're gutter rats. Ya met her yet?"
[Jack Hill] "Lady Kate?" he returns, with an incredulous laugh to Marni. Imagining tea and crumpets in some mad hatter's living room. Maybe a crown, for fuck's sake. And he's shaking his head already, mouth pressed together around it to hold back whatever else he might've said. Suggesting, perhaps, that he's not entirely touched. That, when spread thin, the blood loses some of its madness. "Ah - " another shake of his head, a drag of the cigarette, smoke flaring from his nostrils like a dragon.
That's Jack decides he's going to play along. " - no, I haven't had the pleasure. No royal summons yet, you know? Have to wait for my engraved invitation." Then he pushes away from the brick wall, his coat and sport coat swinging open around his t-shirt with all those big ass words.
Macroeconomic.
Inquisition.
And just like that, Jack holds out a hand to Lou, to shake. "Jack Hill. Good to meet you both." And Marni too, stepping forward so the pregnant woman need not stand out. "I'm pretty sure I don't need a babysitter. I swear to god I'm paper trained." The last part ends with a twist of his mouth, a quick, subtle grin for his small joke.
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *Jack's hand is slapped in a gutter shake. No firm grip here, just the smack of skin on skin, Lou hauling a leg up onto the bench beside Marni. She clucks around a wad of gum.*
So whatchu do when you ain't waitin atcher crib fo a invite from the bigs?
*She wobbles her shades and twists her lips into a cocky smirk. A playful predator, heavy on the predator.*
[Marni] She dimples into a grin at his reaction to the idea of Lady Kate, and decides right then and there she likes him. "I might keep'em. As a backup in case my babydaddy goes broke..." it's said as a stage whisper, fully meant to be overheard.
"As for the invitation, I hear it's fanTAStic. Me, i jus' dig through her dumpsters on occasion, jus t'piss her off." When she shakes his hand, her grip is strong but not crushing, a mere suggestion of what she can do, when she's not the size of a blimp. "You wanna BE a babysitter?" A beat, then a chuckle. "Jus' kiddin."
[Jack Hill] "Sorry," he says to Marni, grin deepening as he salutes her with his cigarette, with no genuine hint of sorrow. "I don't do diapers." Which seems final; he finishes it with an edged grin. Then, back to Lou - not quite looking her in the eye, but weather her presence rather better than most humans. For all that he finds his skin does not quite fit his skeleton when he gets this close.
He smokes that cigarette casually, holding the butt near the base between his index and middle fingers, and breathes the smoke upwards so it doesn't choke the pregnant one of them. "Anyway, I'm - uh," a pause, "Director of Community Relations for REACT, actually." Which sounds fifteen times more important than it is, but he doesn't give that part away. "New in town, so I'm still getting a feel for it. I was here back in '06 for a bit; and during the primaries in '08." Oh-six. He says. Oh-eight. "So, yeah. That's what I do. We're - uhm, like ACORN." Then, a quick grin. An old joke he's tossed around before. He probably doesn't realize that the pair of THEM are unlikely to begin to understand it. Or maybe he does: that grin has an awkward edge, like someone repeating a joke from a 1920s joke book about nylons, the sort that needs a footnote to explain the humor. " - without the nuts?"
"Direct democracy stuff," he adds, helpfully. "Registering voters. Sponsoring debates in local elections, right down to alderman. That sort of thing."
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] [baby issue!post around me for a minute!]
[Marni] She arches a brow as he goes on about what he does, which is decidedly more than the diapers he doesn't do. She doesn't recognize the names he tosses around, but at the end, with the helpful addition, she nods.
"Oh, political shit." Human political shit. "I never really paid attention to much of that shit. We have our own politics we gotta deal with. Which would make democracy cry."
She grins again, and lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "We won't hold it against ya though."
[Jack Hill] "Yeah," Jack returns, smoke streaming from his nostrils. He takes another drag, blunt fingers spread over his bearded jaw as he does so. Then inhales the last little bit like a reformed potsmoker, taking it all deep into his lungs. It sounds like he's agreeing with her. "Yeah," he's still grinning, after all. " - most people don't pay any attention to much of that shit.
"Might be why there are so many fuckers digging about in dumpsters while a self-perpetuating oligarchy tightens their reins on power by manipulating the slack jawed masses with porn and deep fried fucking twinkies. I mean," and he sweeps his hand, an open gesture, up and down the street. Marni has a wealthy baby daddy to pay for her clothes and her noodles; Lou's got enough rage to keep her warm at night; enough raw menace to keep her in strange bubble gums, day or night. There are shadows everywhere, though. Pre-teen chinese girls smuggled into the country to service that furtive looking fucker heading into the Oriental Massage Parlor down the street. An old man - the ripe odor of his body sharp in the cold air - walking a three-legged dog on a length of rope, talking to himself. The gleam of the city's office towers, visible even from here, cool and modern and distant. Divine temples, never to be razed or sacked. " - that's one theory, anyway." The grin's fading; something sharp, something passionate underneath the easy charm.
"Glad you won't hold it against me."
[Marni] She blinks, and watches him, listening as he comments about digging out of dumpsters, and how the rich get richer, while the poor...
She chuckles softly. "Maybe it ain't so different after all. Lots a good stuff can be found in dumpsters though. I ain't always had a babydaddy that'd take care a me, ya know. An' I ain't stupid enough t'think it'll last forever, neither. Hell, I ain't likely to live past 30 anyway. But there's plenty out here t'survive on, if ya of a mind t'do so." She brushes her hair back, and shrugs a shoulder. "Jus' sayin. It ain't somethin to be ashamed of, t'be diggin outa dumpsters."
[Lou Cracka'Jack Perkins] *Jack's talking about acorns and being the director of communication or some shit, and its well above Lou's head. So she smiles. And nods. And scratches at her hair. What the hell was an oligarcky now? Eyes close behind her shades, gnawer suddenly second thinking having hollered at the kin.*
Sheeyit.
*A grease monkey's wet dream prowls down the street, no doubt bought with money from one of those pre-teen sexshops found in the underbelly of the vice district. The driver wears a cocky grin, and sunglasses not to hide a feral gleam, but the red rimmed coke-eyes he's sporting. Lou's attention is fully hijacked for several moments, as she mutters.*
I like deepfried twinkies...... Man.. I'ma bounce.
*A glance to Marni over her shoulder as Lou uncoils in the direction the car went.*
Leave yo ass chatta Mr. GeeCue. Peace!
*That apparently good bye, Lou slinking towards an alley with technique that would do any ragabash proud. On the hunt for a new caddy, and a fat wallet.*
[Jack Hill] Marni's comment has Jack shaking his head. He breathes in through the nose, flashing Lou a two-fingered peace sign as she goes prowling toward the alley with a level of comfort a man like him - with BROWN on his much-abused baseball cap - should not possess.
"I never said," he tells her, with a certain deliberation. With a certain precision. " - that there was anything shameful about digging in dumpsters. And if that's what you think I said - " a brief, narrow shrug. " - then you weren't listening very well." A glance down at his watch. "Shit - " and back up. "Listen, I gotta jet. You want me to call you a cab or something? Before I go?"
[Marni] She shakes her head, and chuckles. "Nah, ya said that it ain't fair that those up in the high rises are bleedin the rest of us dry so we gotta do some diggin. Or something. Ya can explain it to me another time maybe, if ya want. I like t'listen, even if I hate politicin. I ain't fond of folks too big for their britches, neither."
She winks, as he offers to call her a cab, and shakes her head, though she does hold out a hand. "Nah, I can walk. But if ya can help me get my fat ass off this bench it'd be appreciated. Center o'gravity is all fucked up..."
[Jack Hill] "Here - " He dashes the cigarette into the gutters. The last embers spark briefly, flare and die in the slurry of ice and snow and cinders. Then he circles the bench, stepping carefully over the gutter. It's hiking boots and jeans rather than well-cut trousers and polished loafers. His hands are rough - not big, precisely - but roughened. A life lived half-outdoors, or just working now and then. He holds them both out to give her the leverage she needs to stand straight up, as much as she needs.
When she's standing, he asks, " - sure you don't need a cab?" He's already reaching for his phone, waking it, thumbing through the screen in search of his GPS ap. Looking for the nearest El station.
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