Participants:
| Scene Title | Above Average |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Berlin runs into one of the new stalls at the market. Pretty literally. |
| Date | June 22, 2018 |
Sometimes, business brings Berlin down to the safe zone. Mostly it’s feeling out contacts, greasing palms, keeping her networking up to date. But when she has a reason to be there, she likes to make the most of it. Which is why she’s walking the market, a bag in hand proving that she’s already been making impulse purchases.
It’s books, mostly. Because she’s a bit of a nerd.
Dark hair falls long and straight around her face, and she wears dark jeans and a black tank top and black boots that look like she bought them from Army Surplus. But she is trying on a purple hat that clashes with the rest of this image she’s sporting at the moment. It has a flower on it. Sequins. A gauzy veil that she gently unfolds over her face.
Today at the Market there's a new table, but new tables isn't exactly uncommon. No books on the set up, but small animal statues, cups and bowls and other such things all made out of stoneware and crystal or glass. A sign reads 'Free unlimited repairs'. Some of the work is pretty detailed, some has a more rough edge to it. Some looks like shaped limestone, while others shaped marble bits.
Little statues of various shapes and sizes, animals, fish, birds. Some with more detail than other. The young man behind the table, a few years older than her, stands with his hands running gently over what had once been a solid fired brick. And his fingers seem to mold it, shift it, push it down into a shape, obviously an SLC-E ability at work. Rory's attention is on whatever it is he's making for the moment.
Ultimately, Berlin decides against the hat, but she takes a moment to compliment it to the shopkeep before she moves on. It isn't long before her steps take her to the new table. Her fingers trail over a few of the little animals before she picks up a wolf to look at a little closer. Her gaze doesn't linger there long, since the man behind the table is at work and that work is interesting. She sets the wolf back down and leans a hip against the table instead to watch.
Her plan was to keep it short, since staring is a little weird, even in this setting, but when she straightens to move away, her bag catches a pair of the little animals and they tumble to the ground in a crash.
"Shit, shit, shit," Berlin says under her breath as she spins back around, pulling her bag away from the table before it can do anymore damage. She crouches down, hoping to find that something survived, but all she finds is a stray wing— at least, that's what she can identify in this mess.
For a brief moment while she watches, the young man looked up and noticed her, but Rory didn't start to engage like others who make things at their booths. Maybe he's just not that kind of person. Maybe he's too busy paying attention to what he's doing. Maybe it requires his full attention. Either way, he doesn't say anything until after she curses under her breath following the tumble and crash of two creatures, one only identifiable by the remaining wing, while the other is a broken mess of limbs on the ground.
Leaving the half shaped brick, with hand prints left behind on it like one might expect when touching wet concrete, he crosses the table booth and kneels down, reaching under to pick up the head of the second beast. A lion, it would seem.
"Maybe I should have 'you break it you buy it' signs instead," he says quietly in an accent that is obviously not from here. It sounds like something out of the River Styx, when the actors fail at doning an American accent.
Those words are a jest, but it's hard to see that at first, except for the way his eyes seem to be more amused than annoyed.
"I'm so sorry," Berlin says, obviously flustered as she gathers up what pieces she can, "Of course I'll pay you for them." The amusement is missed, mostly because she's embarrassed. Once her hands are full, she actually looks over at him. The investigator part of her kicks in a moment late. Accent processed, expression too. Her own accent is a facsimile, too. Sifted through a myriad of places she's stayed in, but her American is a lot more convincing. He needs practice.
Not that she plans on mentioning it. Or calling him out on it in the middle of the market.
"I'm Berlin," she says, somewhat out of nowhere, definitely still a little flustered and pink in the cheeks.
It could be he only bothers to attempt to hide it in the market, trying to sound more like those who were supposed to buy from them, but even then, Rory slips. A lot. Sometimes he forgets to bother not to sound like he's from ol' Nottingham. Other times he tries really hard. As she looks up at him, investigates him, his expression softens even more. Not just the laugh in his eyes, but a slight grin on his lips.
"You don't have to buy these. I can reuse the rock— but you can buy two others of your choice." If she wants, it sounded like, from the way he didn't seem to be demanding. He reached down, sliding his hand over the tarp that's laid out under his table and begins scooping up the rock. It almost seems to melt on contact with his hand. Only not really. It's almost like picking up pieces of putty that sticks together until it's a misshapen ball of rock in his hand. With a lion's head still barely visible on one end.
"Rory," he responds, looking back up at her and holding his free hand out— either in greeting, or for the wing she held.
Berlin shakes his hand first, more firmly than she really needs to in this particular setting. But usually she's hand shaking in the name of Wolfhound and now it's habit. "Nice to meet you," she says, and then she hands him her pieces. She looks toward the rock, her head tilting. She only just resists the urge to reach over and poke it herself. "Um. No. I mean, yes, of course I'll buy something," she says with a chuckle, "but also pay for these. At least a good tip. Time, talent, labor, um… eventual caloric intake."
She has no idea what's coming out of her mouth anymore. Just words. Whatever words decide to jump out.
So she stands, careful of the table this time, and looks back over the collection of little animals. This time she stops on a small raven. It gets a considering gaze before she picks it up to look at it closer. "They're really beautiful. Do you have a favorite?" she asks with a nod toward the table.
The sculptor's own handshake is quite firm as well, hinting toward the strength that isn't given away by his build. Rory's not a big guy, but the way he grips back shows he's stronger than he might look. The strength is a different kind of strength.
As he holds her pieces he looks over the wing for a moment— because the wing had a lot of detail. So yes, time spent making it had to have been a lot. It even had little feather textures, but he affixes the wing onto the lion-headed blog, almost like a chimera of some kind and then puts the malformed piece back down on the table as he stands. If she did touch it, it doesn't seem to meld like it had under his hands. But SLC-E abilities can work like that.
"Thank you. There are others who are better, but mine aren't bad," he responds, the modesty not seeming faked, even if most anyone would know he's being modest. He's had people who say the way he does it is cheating, after all. Everyone else has to carefully carve such trinkets, but him, he cheats. As some people from back home would say. "A have a few favorites…" One he nudges over looks like a goat or a sheep. Two curved horns, small ears, detailed fur and hooves. "The Ibex. They can climb near vertical cliff-faces."
Not the cutest critter on the table, but— she asked. And the more he talks, the more his accent slips.
His modesty gets a look, a chuckle, and Berlin looks back down to the figurines to look them over again. "The only person you need to be better than is yourself," she says, then looks back to him, "seems like it would be hard to do from what I can see." She doesn't think he cheats, instead she is obviously appreciative of how he's chosen to apply his ability.
When he points out the Ibex, she picks it up. A smile comes to her face and she lifts her eyebrows over at him when he explains what it is. "What? How do they not fall right off? I mean, I'm pretty sure I would. Just, immediately." Cute or not, it seems the Ibex is coming home with her. Her head tilts, though, as she listens to him, her smile more amused as his real voice starts to slip in.
As she continues to give him compliments, Rory smiles quietly, looking down at the lump of rock that's been stuck together. He's not sure how his ability works, but it does take time and effort to make each and every piece, so he nods at her last words. It was difficult. Even with the help of his ability. A tool, if nothing else, one that no one else could use, but it did not mean he didn't put a lot into each of the figures and stoneware that he made.
As she talks about the Ibex he looks back up, returning her smile with one that actually does touch his eyes, wrinkling it at the sides a little. "It's more to do with balance than anything else. They're patient, careful with their footing and distribute weight along their body so as not to fall. It's harder for us. But we can learn too. Rock-climbing is a difficult hobby, but most use ropes, which the Ibex doesn't get to use in case they do fall."
"Another win for opposable thumbs," Berlin says with a chuckle. "They really make up for our lack of patience. As a species." The words get more awkward the more she goes on, so she ends up in a pit of embarrassed silence. To cover, she looks toward the table again, as if she might be thinking of another.
But something occurs to her.
"Um. How much do I owe you?" She hadn't thought to ask before when she was offering to pay for everything. "And do you have a card or something, no that's dumb, people don't have cards anymore," she says half to him, half to herself. So she restates. "Are you planning to be in the market regularly?"
"You're right— a majority of people wouldn't have the patience to spend all day climbing just to lick the salt off of a wall," Rory says as he shifts, looking as if he wants to lean against the table or— otherwise do something with his arms, but ends up just fiddling with that blob of rock on the table instead. It actually melds under his fingers without him even seeming to thinking about it. Like someone might play with one of those old stress balls.
"Oh— I don't really set a price cause a lot of people don't pay with actually money here. Like sometimes they trade a voucher for food or water at a ration site, or… other things." He sounds a little less sure of himself than he probably would like to. "But if you happen to have actual coin to trade, I wouldn't say no. It may not be worth as much as it once was but some places still take it."
After all, most jobs still pay in cash, even if trade and barter seem more efficient than pieces of paper that might change in value from day to day. A piece of paper that promises a set amount of rations would be far more valuable. "A typical statue goes for about… fifteen." There's something about the way he says that that hints he's lowering the price.
A lot.
"There are way better things to lick salt off of," Berlin says in a tone that implies a follow up of get it together, goats. Later, when she looks back on this conversation, she'll be retroactively embarrassed. At the moment, she's too distracted to think about it. She watches how the rock changes under his touch, expression curious. But her gaze moves back up to him when he speaks again.
The price gets a skeptical look with a crooked smile. Amused. Indulgent.
She does have actual money, but with him undercharging her, she's reluctant to pull it out and take him up on that price.
"How much for an above average statue?" The question is a tease, because a beat later, she takes a bracelet off her wrist and sets it down on the table. It's worth more than thirty dollars, even in pre-war times, with gold twisting around small stones of various colors. Still, she is willing to part with it. There isn't any reluctance in the offer.
For a moment, Rory at least looks as if he might be blushing. His skin is light enough that it could just have been her complimenting his statues all over again. Or it could have been the previous statement. It was more likely that. But a moment later she's handing him a twisting gold bracelet with small stones in various colors and he puts his hand over it and it actually moves upward before he catches it.
That had been a quick way to see if the stones were real or synthetic. "I'll take it." He can trade the gold and keep the stones for something else in the future. Maybe even replace them with glass or something more common.
With it in his hand, he looked back at her once again. "And I'll be here next week. Same day. And every week for the rest of the month. I already paid for the space, so I'll definitely be here. After that— it will depend on if I sell enough to keep coming back." Or if he has a reason to keep paying for the spot, at least. He has traded a few today already, and hopefully more soon. Though most people have been milling by while he talks to her. "Is there an animal you like better than the others?"
"Next week. Okay. Well, I hope you do well here. I haven't seen anything like this in the market before, so I think there's a good chance." Berlin might be making a mental note about what day she needs to arrange to be back in the safe zone. Her contacts are flexible.
The question gets a wry looking smile.
"I'm partial to the wolfhound. Giant dog, dopey face," she says with a pat to her own cheek. She knows by the accent snuck back into his voice that he probably didn't need her to explain that, but she's playing along with his fiction still. "But really, it's the jackalope," she says, her smile more genuine, "when I was a kid, I thought they were real. I think no one wanted to disappoint me, so they didn't tell me for a long time. I don't know if you do cryptids or not, but."
The young brit is too busy thinking bout what a jackalope is to realize what he being partial to wolfhound really means. Though likely Rory has heard of the group. He just had no reason to worry about them, or think about them too heavily. After all the federal government knew more about him that probably anyone ever during the long vetting process to get refugee in the United States and to be allowed to work toward citizenship. Slowly.
"I've made a few unique creatures, before. Unicorns, the Pegasus, dragons…" So he would probably have at least one jackalope sitting on his booth waiting for her the next time. "My name's Rory. Karrington." He doesn't offer his hand out, but he's still toying with the bracelet she'd given him with his dominant hand. It doesn't melt under his touch, at least.
"Good to know you can branch out," Berlin says with a chuckle. When he introduces himself again, her smile turns crooked. Amused. "Berlin Beckett," she says back to him rather than pointing out that they've done this before. But after, her mind goes blank. She looks down to the statues in her hand, then back to him but the pause doesn't help give her something intelligent to say.
If this were an op, this would be the time to fall back. Regroup. Adjust her strategy.
"I think I'll see you around, Rory. Next week." Because now that she's mentally comparing him to a mission, it is really time to bail before something truly damaging comes out of her mouth. Facts about machine guns or how to punch someone without hurting yourself. What it's like to jump out of a plane and infiltrate an enemy base. That could be off putting.
Or the guy could just think that whole thing sounds amazing and be truly interested in hearing more. Or intimidated at the idea. Or… well who knows right?
The young man didn't seem to be casting judgement when she mentioned the wolfhound, so perhaps but maybe he really didn't know anything. Even if he did kind of understand.
Americans have strange names, but Rory just smiles at her name being Berlin. It's not the first person named after a city he's met, but it still made him smile. "I look forward to seeing you next week, Berlin," he responds to her words with a nod, looking as if he actually is looking forward to it. "Hopefully you won't break anything next time," he jokes.
But then realizes that might not have been a good joke because he turns away and toys with the bracelet in his hand as he crosses back to the other side of the table, cursing himself under his breath for saying stupid things.
"I can't promise anything," Berlin says, as far as being any less clumsy goes. Although, really, it was a fluke. Just this one time. "But I'll see you," she adds with a smile. So maybe the joke was okay. She slips away into the crowd a moment later, letting out a heavy sigh once she's far enough away for him not to see her. Or to see her picking up her pace because she has a plane to catch. And a friend to freak out at on the other side.