Participants:
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| Scene Title | 9 to 5 |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Delilah kills a couple figurative birds with one stone, and Walter charms the masses. |
| Date | July 2, 2011 |
Morningside Heights was and is still known for its high density of educational institutions. Most of the neighborhood is owned by Columbia University; the rest is shared with Barnard College, the Manhattan School of Music, the Teachers College, Columbia Greenhouse nursery school, and a variety of religious seminaries.
In addition to places like the Cathedral of St. John the Divine and Morningside Park, the neighborhood boasts a variety of restaurants and clubs, excellent bookstores, and Mondel Chocolates, selling handmade chocolate candies even today.
Before the bomb, Morningside Heights was dominated by students. That is still the case today, but their majority is now far smaller — with Morningside being one of the neighborhoods least affected by the explosion, it has become a very popular place to live. Housing is extremely expensive, but people are willing to pay through the nose for a place they know is safe and sound — at least in structural terms. Population density is high; like everywhere else in the city, so is crime, although Morningside's biggest problems are theft and embezzlement. Along with the consequences of college parties and/or pranks.
With Summer in full swing and the afternoon quiet, Delilah has made it a point to be out and about as much as humanly possible; while living with Sable and associating with the band has its perks, and her jobs keep things steady, aside from her trusts- she always needs something to do, to take up her time. Walter is as much a companion now as he can be, when she doesn't need someone to babysit. Going on eight months, he is able to entertain himself inside of his stroller when Dee takes him out, but there are always things at eye-level that provide secondary distractions. With a striped shirt and cloth pants, he seems quite like any other baby does. His hair seems too coppery and too fiery for its own good, and his eyes have taken on a fine blue sheen just like Teodoro's. Parked in one of the small areas of gardens and benches amidst the school districts, Delilah has rolled him to a stop under a tree that blots out the sun on the cobblestone walk. Her hair, though darker, has a similar brightness to Walter's, and her eyes are clear, her movements deliberate.
Samson, leashed to her arm on the other side, sits himself down in the shade, leaning up against the circular stone wall that contains flowers around the tree. He is there for security purposes only, watching as Dee takes a guitar case off of her back, slung across her floral dress. There are always one or two others around, in these sorts of places; sometimes they are kind, and sometimes they give her an eyeball until she gets lost. It's hard to hate her, though, what with the entire picture of dog, baby, and young mom.
Insurance money, and summer = boats. A prime time for people to be attempting to sell sail boats, ones that are equipped and suitable for living aboard. So it's little surprise that Hortense is meandering across these parks, having spent far too much time on the couches of her friends once she had been sprung from the hospital, looking at advertisements, flicking through more on her iphone. Much as she appreciates couches, she can't stand the floor not moving beneath her while she sleeps. It's it's own build in cradle, living on the water.
Sandaled feet, far too short and breezy skirt, layers of tank tops and hair pinned back from her face but still loose, Hortense isn't really paying attention and is in a real threat of walking into Walter and his stroller.
There's one busker already there, though he is certainly not one of those types who will glare. His guitar gently strums across the area, fingers expertly moving over the strings of that fine looking guitar of his that he plays. A gift, from his expecting wife; he may as well use it to ensure that he can help to feed his family. To continue to keep them safe from harm as he's worked so hard to do these past few months.
Griffin Mihangle is looking fairly clean-cut today, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses; he's taken every measure he can to make him indistinguishable to the next man, but one can only do so much with a prominent nose. No suits for him; he's wearing a pair of worn-looking cargo shorts, and a t-shirt with what appears to be three mice staring up at a moon of cheese. He looks like a busker with a really nice guitar.
And those shades nicely hide the fact that he has his vectors out nigh constantly.
As Delilah settles, Griffin raises his eyes to watch her with a faint smile, his fingers never ceasing their casual yet skilled strumming. He's certainly not going to begrudge her for playing. Perhaps he can even supplement the lady in her music.
Samson lets out an obtrusive whuff of air at the woman that trails too near the stroller. It's not a huge jogging stroller, but it's also not a dinky little stroller. Enough of one that if she were to bump into it while Dee is turned, unhooking the lid of her guitar- it won't be falling over. Though of course, Walter will probably be making some sort of squeaky greeting anyway. Thankfully, Delilah has a moment of clarity enough to notice the nearing steps, and turns in time to edge the stroller backwards the few inches that it needs.
"Phone too interesting?" The warning comes offhandedly, for the most part; Delilah isn't going to be mad about trivial events, but it deserves a word in for it. After a moment, something else occurs to her, and the redhead fixes Hortense with a more intense, questioning look, a smile on her lips. "I know you, don't I?" She is familiar enough, surely. Not enough to remember her clearly though.
"What? oh!" Oh, she's about to run into a kid and a pretty. Big. Dog. Wow. Wow, why is that person, that baby and that dog familiar…
"Sorry, was looking at boats, wasn't paying attention, hey there cutie, are you just the bee's knees" Hortense grins at Walter, eyes narrowing a fraction before she snaps her fingers. "Baby massage" How can anyone for get the red hair. She looks up to Delilah. "I don't remember your name, sorry, but I remember you came to one of my baby massage lessons" There's a glance to Griffin, and she's digging into the purse slung over her shoulder like a backpack, so she can find some money to toss into whatever he has for money to be tossed into.
Walter looks up past a rubber toy he has curled in his fists, mouth opening and letting out a stifled snigger to Hortense. When you are small, everything is worth laughing at! Samson peers at her with a far different sort of look; wary of her standing there, and until she talks to Delilah, he keeps his eye on her.
"Oh, yes." Delilah smiles, and tries her best to recall specifics. Anyone listening in may not know what exactly baby massage is, and at least it seems civil, right? "I remember you asked me about Walter's Da'. Delilah- that's my name." She offers the gentle reminder, in between thoughts. Brown eyes swivel to look at Griffin nearby, giving him his very own smile, before she alternates a look from Hortense to her acoustic guitar as she pulls it out of the case. It's nothing special, light in color, with a few decals stuck onto it. Probably a hand-me-down from Sable, so she wouldn't need to worry about taking it out.
'Right" That conversation. Hortense has a suddenly cautious smile, unsure of whether that was a good conversation or had ended up being a bad one. "How are you doing? How's this man doing" She leans over, careful to not lay a hand on Walter, unsure of the big ass dog that seems ot be guarding him. "Look at you, getting bigger! Your mother giving you massages? Bet you like them when she does" Hortense exaggerates her voice and grins.
White eyes watch from behind dark sunglasses as Hortense tosses money into his guitar case, offering a gracious smile; as a result of the donation, the music he plays swells, growing a bit more complex, the sound from the quality guitar carrying well through the area. He's listening, certainly, but he's also quite happy to be silent. Speaking would mean drawing more attention to himself, which risks recognition.
Though Walter gets an especially large smile, the knowing smile of a father. Or perhaps an expecting father.
Samson seems fine, but as big dogs go, she is probably wise in not getting too near. Delilah loops the guitar over herself, then resting a hand on the stroller to park it against the stone wall. "He does. Especially now that he's getting around more." The other day she told Sable to crawl around and look for potential items of interest to a face that low to the floors. Delilah smiles to Hortense and brakes the stroller so that Walter can watch the women, and get a view of the tiny park and some of its other inhabitants. Samson lies down around the back of the stroller, flattening his belly against the stone.
"He was a normal size baby, but I can't get over how much he's growing. You're gonna be a big fella, huh?" Delilah looks down at the redhaired baby as she sits down; he babbles something to her and then, something to Hortense, as he holds up the rubbery set of toy keys in one fist. Maybe offering, maybe preparing to toss, maybe looking for something else.
"You don't mind him, do you?" Delilah cranes her neck around to address Griffin, giving him a better look-over as she does.
"You will be a big boy" Hortense murmurs, glancing to Griffin but for the most part, not recognizing that he's on the list of OMFG MOST WANTED. Hortense wriggles a finger at the toy and walter, smiling to the other two adults before she glances to her phone. "Shit, I gotta go. It was nice to meet you again! And the baby!" Griffin's already got money in his container, so he gets narya look before she's stalking off. Off to do, what it is, that hortense does.
Or, he could get drawn into the conversation without trying. The man blinks, turning his eyes toward Delilah; his fingers never stop strumming, even as the smile rolls over his features. "Not at all, ma'am. Why would I?" A glance is cast toward Walter, and a smile. "I have one of my own, though he's got a good ten years on your little fellow, and another on th'way." He keeps his head dipped slightly, toward his guitar, as if that will help him avoid recognition. As Hortense leaves, he offers a respectful nod after the woman, smiling faintly as he plays.
His vectors are hovering, though, twitchy and paranoid as he is. He has quite the vested interest in not dying and not being caught.
What Hortenses do is a mystery to Delilahs, and she does not find herself missing out when the other woman departs; she offers a small smile and a wave of goodbye, at least. She looks back to Griffin, after that, and keeps her gaze between him, and her space behind the flopped open case. "It's gonna be a strange trip raising him, I can tell you that much. Congrats, by the way." Is that what she's supposed to say? Good enough of something.
"This is Walter, and Samson is the one with the tail." He probably heard her say her own name, so she'll only repeat it if he needs it- Delilah sets about making sure that her strings are in order, otherwise.
Griffin smiles faintly. "It always is with kids." There's a wistful tone to his voice, something stirring beneath the surface, but he gives no other hint than that. Instead, he turns his attention down to Walter, smiling faintly. "Pleased to meet you, Walter." Once the song has drawn to a close, he settles the guitar across his back, raising to his feet and promptly kneeling, offering a hand to Samson. "And a pleasure to meet you, Samson."
A glance is cast toward Delilah, the man smiling faintly. "You can call me Griff."
Samson is more dubious than Walter ever is- The dog sniffs at Griffin's offered self, tail wagging lazily against the stroller wheel. Walter runs his fingers over his toy, for the moment, peering over at the stranger. "Awright, Griff. You do much of this around here? I move around and things, so if you're worried about my taking your coin, please don't. I do this so that I can practice and take the boys out at the same time." Two birds!
The baby lets lose the hounds of Playskool; his toy keyring does a loop into the air, landing with a messy clack onto the cobblestone below. It was a mighty throw! Well, for such a little guy.
Assuming Samson allows it, Griffin kindly reaches out and ruffles the dog's head, a smile on his face. The vectors have withdrawn, for the most part; Delilah seems like someone hs won't have to worry about. "Don't mind me. I'm definitely not worried about money. I have time, and the world is my stage, after all." He'd rather be in a concert hall, directing an orchestra.
As the keyring flies into the air, Griffin blinks; but a deft hand shoots out, catching the keyring before it can hit the ground. He holds it up, offering it back to Walter with a smile. "I busk everywhere. Depends on my mood, really. Sometimes, I want concrete and glass monoliths surrounding me. Others, trees." He smiles faintly, raising back up to his feet.
That is, it would be clacking if Griffin had not caught it. Walter seems disappointed that he didn't hear that scuttling noise, but when it is offered back he takes it gleefully and shakes it at Griffin in return. Thank you! Or something like that. Samson seemed to like the pat, sitting up into it and afterwards, watching the man past the edge of the cart. Delilah puts her hand down to brush Walter's messy orange hair back against his head.
"You been here long? Maybe we could play together a little. Jamming with the same people all the time can get a bit old, right?" Dee loves her girls and boys, but she's right- it would probably be a good thing to try out.
Griffin offers a warm smile to Walter, before standing and settling back into his spot nearby. That same smile is offered to Delilah, along with a nod. "I haven't been here long, and I always enjoy impromptu jam sessions." He chuckles softly, pulling the guitar back into his lap and pulling out the pick. "If you start, I can follow your lead. Or the other way around."
Delilah takes what initiative that she can, nodding once and simply breaking into tabs when it feels as if Walter is as rapt as he will ever be. Hopefully, they'll play for a few tunes, at least; Delilah, today, seems to be leaning into something like folk, and chances are that Griff is sharp enough to pick up on it and offer some layers to accompany hers as they go. She may only tell him when they finish, but Delilah is going to be grateful for a supposed stranger's graciousness.
She not only needed it, but also deserved such a break in her routine thusfar, regardless of if it makes absolute sense. Busking is not a career, for most people, but at the end of it all, it doesn't hurt to have your eight month old babe acting as sidekick to your jam session. The little nugget probably even draws Griff a few quarters too.