Participants:
| Scene Title | Around These Parts |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Anna sits down next to Ziadie and starts to talk, and just as quickly is gone again afterwards. |
| Date | January 12, 2011 |
Day or night, Canal Street is busy in Chinatown. Perfumes, purses, produce, pork, and poultry are all sold side by side in busy open storefronts. One entire portion of the street is dedicated to nothing but jewelry stores catering to various price ranges. Box vendors sell all manner of sizzling foodstuffs to passing pedestrians, some of it identifiable, some of it better left unexplained. The ambiance is one of business and pleasure.
The streets are already crowded by the time that Ziadie has made his way from Harlem down to Chinatown, despite the snow and traffic congestion and such. The older man has traded the cane he had before for a slightly sturdier one, though, and is as bundled up against the weather as anyone else. For lack of anything better to do, now that he's more towards coherent and cleaned up some, he's been wandering about the city. Now, at close to an edge of Canal Street Market, Ziadie sits on a bench, a small container of food balanced on his knee, tucking a flask back into the pocket of his jacket.
A certain Anna James is stalking those streets as well, and eventually happens upon a certain Ziadie. "Hey there, stranger." She greets the man as she invites herself to sit down next to him. Fearless, that's for sure. "I haven't seen you around before, and that's saying something, because there's not a whole lot of afro Americans around these parts, you know?" She grins, "So, what're ya doin' here?"
Public> Antonio sets a profile, let's see, what next.
Ziadie turns his head to look over the teenager that just sat down next to him. He seems to be doing a lot of this associating with teenagers thing these days, though he's not sure what the cause of that is. Then, he gestures with the hand that had just put away the flask to the food. It seems to be some sort of meat, and maybe some noodles; whatever it is, it smells good. "Eating." In fact, he picks up the chopsticks, and seems to be quite deft with them.
"Eating is good, that looks good too." Anna grins as she leans back on the bench, relaxing. "So… why aren't you eating at home? Surely there's a better place for you to eat than in the middle of Chinatown?" She shrugs, "Or are you a homeless feller? I guess that'd suck… I know it sucked when I was homeless, and that didn't last long…"
After finishing the bite he'd taken, Ziadie shrugs. "The food's good," he says. "I …" he pauses, and studies the girl sitting next to him before continuing. "No, not homeless. Least mebbe not quite." Eventually, an easy smile edges onto his face, all the wrinkles on his face seeming also to become part of the smile. "Just needed something to do, today." The former cop glances up, as if he could tell the time despite that the skies are far from clear. "Didn't the schools already start?" he asks, deciding that maybe it's his turn to question. He's not terribly accusatory, though, which is probably a good thing.
Anna wobbles her fingers, "I don't go to school." She responds, shrugging it off. "School's for people who aren't wanted fugitives." Her tone is jocular, but it really isn't a joke, and her undertone agrees with such. "If I showed up at school, they'd turn me in post-haste, and that's not something I want to happen, so yeah, not going to school."
Ziadie considers this for a moment, and then nods. If it weren't for the flask he takes out and drinks from, and the fact that while he might say he's not homeless he certainly seems off his rocker enough, he's almost authoritative, that manner of listening to someone else talk. Almost.
"Fair enough." She's telling enough of the truth, after all. "I been away, a while," he says in between bites of what seems to be his lunch. "So, I been seeing what changed while I was gone."
"Shit went further down the drain, like usual." Anna answers that question with a shrug, "I'm telling you, we'll be seeing concentration camps for the Evolved within the year." She sounds serious about it too, "I don't want to go to a concentration camp… I'm too young to die. Especially in such a way…"
Ziadie pays attention to the little silver flask while he's considering what Anna said, then once again puts it away. Then more food. He's pretty good with the chopsticks. "I been gone a while, too," he finally says. Avoiding her topic altogether, but still with that sort of attitude that he's listening to what she said, though that's mitigated a little by the alcohol. And the scent of the alcohol, a little.
"Seems as nothing's the same anymore. Can't even take a cab without the police state interfering, these days …" He picks up his chopsticks again. Ziadie is bad at talking directly to people, though. More often, he's talking, and they're there, and then he's musing on about something else.
"Yeah, I know… it sucks." Anna responds, turning to look at the sky, "So you seem like a pretty nice guy… what's your name? Mine's Anna." She introduces herself, without extending her hand, mind. "I mean, most people would just have told me to fuck off if I sat down next to them and started talking like this."
Ziadie seems to finish his train of thought before actually responding to Anna. "And look at who's talking about the police state." He shakes his head slowly, subtly almost. "Ziadie." Then he shrugs. "Telling people to fuck off was a habit I lost nearly forty years ago." Damn, he's old.
"Nice to meet ya, Ziadie." Anna says as she gets up again, ignoring the fact where he stopped doing something twenty five years before she was born. "But it's cold, I should get back inside… perhaps we'll meet again some day." She grins, "It's a small world, after all." And without waiting for a reply, she starts to dash off.
Ziadie stares, watching the teenager dart off, and shakes his head to himself. That was strange. He shakes his head and shrugs in her general direction, and then goes back to eating his lunch.