Participants:
| Scene Title | Fueling Metabolisms |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Hungry, hungry Evos descend upon the Nite Owl. |
| Date | July 13, 2010 |
This New York diner is busy tonight, but several tables have just been vacated. Inside practically /bounds/ a very large young man, clearly obese but somehow bursting to the brim with energy. His shirt is partially soaked with sweat and his silver-and-green basketball shorts swish about his hammy legs as he nearly /bounces/ on his heels. Taking the earbuds out of his ears, he is led to a diner where like a hawk he immediately orders coffee and a hamburger. He puts an earbud back in his ear, tapping his feet against the floor lightly.
Today's the first day Daphne's been given the clear to use her power to its full capability. She needs to fuel up for a run across the Atlantic to catch some of the Bastille Day celebration in Paris. The door suddenly bursts open with a rush of wind, and those with quick eyes will see a blur of red and gray and white coalesce into the solid form that belongs to the petite speedster. She heads to one of the empty tables, arching a brow at the large young man. The bouncing reminds her of herself — she can't keep still at times. The fact he's young makes her wonder if he's a speedster who's just recently manifested — and hasn't quite run enough miles to burn off the "baby fat."
Sitting at the booth facing his, she pulls out a laminated menu. Carbs and protein. And coffee. Lots of coffee. She waits for the waitress to come her way, before looking at Wayland, tilting her head curiously. Sure, it's not polite to stare, but when has Daphne worried about being polite. "You running a marathon or something?"
Helllooooo blur.
Audrey's taking one of those rarely heard of things. A night off. Well, not really, she's just taking her meal outside of her house instead of take out in her place. Dogs parked outside with bowls of water, she's planning on being half an hour at the most and she's right near the door, ready to flash her badge and gun if anyone thinks to mess with Felix and Cooper.
The dogs. Not the cops.
The blur garners her attention but she's off duty, in as much as homesec agents are off duty and not in the mood to be asking people for their registration. Fat man already garnered her attention and an inward diatribe about people so obese that surely they must see themselves in the mirror and know the damage they are doing to their bodies. In her hand while she waits with her coke, is something metallic, picked up from the floor of the club some nights ago. She still hasn't turned it in, nor put it on, stuck it in a pocket and forgot about it.
Alex opens the door to the diner, his open black jacket and the black tie of his, well, black suit blowing in the wind sucked by the entrance. Everyone would have heard the rumbling of the red 1969 Cobra Jet Mach 1, but he's less concerned with his car and more with the platinum blonde at the table. "Hey, Bleedy, or, what do I call you?" he casually calls over, and sits right next to her. "I'll pay, I do owe you a bit. Ice cream is a killer."
"Funny you ask," Wayland says, planting both hands on the table and /peering/ back at Daphne. "I don't have a reason to run. I just want to. I feel like there's a furnace in my guts, and if I don't move I'll burn up. I've been running, and other stuff, all day. And all last night. Best part is?" A grin creases his cheeks as dimples cave in his features. "I don't even know how my body's going to react. I might have a heart attack or something. You know?"
"Hmm. Yeah, don't do that. You might be out of luck if someone has to do the Heimlich," Daphne says with a wrinkled nose. She tilts her head at Alex, narrowing her eyes as she tries to place him, but the waitress stops by to take her order. "Three eggs scrambled, 2 sausage links, 2 bacon strips, wheat toast, a glass of orange juice, a short stack and a coffee," she says, her speech fast, clearly confident the career waitress will be able to keep up with the order.
"Sit down," she says, pointing to Alex with the menu. He probably didn't realize he was paying for a meal of that size, but it's not like the Nite Owl has anything that expensive on it. Her eyes fall on Audrey, which gives her "cop radar" a little tingle, though she's not sure why.
Audrey could tell you exactly why the cop radar goes off around her. Could be the way that she's tilted her head and is studying big boy, or that she recognizes Alex from the bar the other night. Over and over in her hands twists and turns the metallic object, looking away and pretending not to listen. It's hard to stop being a cop off duty.
"I could build a giant hamster wheel, if it helps." Alex helpfully suggests as he sits back and takes a menu for himself, raising an eyebrow at just how much Daphne orders. "I'll take a slice of pecan pie, whatever you have with bacon on top, and black coffee."
Finally turning back to Daphne after giving the familiar cop a glance, his second move is, "You know, I've seen you run, really seen you, it'd be far more efficient with shoes specially crafted for that kind of speed."
The door swings open with a chime, and in slips the young woman known as Nadia. She pauses at the doorway, her eyes trailing across the diner. Recognition registers on her face as she spots Alex, then Wayland. Then, she slips in, heading to a table near them. Alex is offered a small wave and a pleasant smile, though she does seem ever-so-slightly nervous and fidgety in the man's presence.
Whatever. Shut down by Daphne, Wayland sticks the other earbud in his ear and looks away, out the window. Then Nadia walks in and his brow furrows. His eyebrows furrow as he looks at her for one long moment. "Hi," he offers, taking the earbud out again.
The dreadlocked blonde studies Wayland as he quiets at her less-than-kind words — is he a speedster? Her eyes flick to the cop. Daphne would ask to see if Wayland could "speed" if Audrey wasn't there. "Do you mind?" she says in a low voice to the man sitting across from her, her eyebrows shooting up as she gives Alex an exasperated expression. "I mean, not everyone in the world needs to know my business, right?"
She props one foot on the vinyl seat of his side of the booth — bright red sneakers with yellow laces and thick rubber soles. "I just get new ones when they run out, but what would you do different?" This is quieter yet, and she glances at the newcomer who Wayland says hi to.
Shift. Shift. QUick glance. there's a near imperceptible grin as audrey opts to have some fun. Fun. Fun of the badge out, the Homesec crest on it's top, out in plain sight for the others to see. Fingertips drum on top of it as a waitress delivers her burger and fries, flashing her a smile.
Alex turns over to take a close look at her shoes, allowing his eyes to take on their silvery color as he tries to keep his back turned to the agent. After a few seconds, his eyes return to their normal state, and he sits up to offer his solution, or, one of them. "Maybe some sort of light metallic lining, something we can plate on the bottom of regular shoes. Add in some friction spikes, nothing too noticable, very small things, and inside of the rubber we'd add shock obsorbing springs…" He places his elbows on the table, gently massaging his forehead in thought. "Would you be opposed to weaponized shoes?"
A smile is offered to Wayland, followed by a small wave. "Hi there!" All smiles, Nadia leans back in her seat, ordering her food quickly. "You're the one who jumped on that girl who was robbing the bus, right?" She smiles. "You were pretty brave back there!" Then, raising to her feet, she offers a hand. "Nadia Ba'albaki."
"Wayland Powers," the big guy offers to Nadia, and shakes her hand with his own sausage-fingers. "Yeah, well, I gave my statement to the police. They probably could have handled it on their own, but. I was scared, you know?"
"I think you just described the latest Air Jordans," Daphne says with a smirk. "Weapons? No. I don't need that sort of thing. I just need to run away." Her smile fades a little and she glances away, thinking about the fact that she ran to escape instead of running to stop the suicide bomber the other day. The way he turns away from Audrey to talk to her confirms her thoughts on the off-duty agent, and she brings a hand to her mouth as if to cough. "Cough-Cop?-Cough," she asks, a slight tip of her head in the freckled woman's direction.
The speedster smiles at Nadia's telling Wayland he was brave — apparently they both have saved the day lately, getting their gratitude in the form of Nadia and Alex. "Way to go, kid," she says over Alex's shoulder to Wayland, perhaps to earn back some karma after her too-direct statement a moment before. It's not like she wasn't the 'freak' in her younger years.
Alex finally looks back when he hears Nadia's voice, her presence registering after his slight shoe distraction. "Oh, hello there." he offers to Nadia, and turns back down to Daphne's shoes, giving a smile and a nod to her coughed message. "I could design these shoes to make your stopping more accurate, the lack of friction or burned off soles less of a problem with sharp turns and accurate movements. A challenge, that's what this is. Tell me you'll take the offer." He seems very excited about another potential project. Speedster Shoes. Maybe they should be white and red…
The girl nods slowly in agreement, giving him a firm handshake. "That whole thing was pretty crazy. I've never touched a gun in my life up until yesterday." She grins. "Nice to meet you, Wayland." Alex is offered a cheerful smile and a wave. "Hey, good to see you again!" She peers curiously at him as he speaks, before shrugging and leaning back in her chair, her attention turning back to Wayland.
"I have to wonder what /cause/ she was talking about," Wayland says in his clear tenor voice, leaning forward with his great bulk, burning a hole in the table. "I don't know what cause justifies robbing a city bus, but I guess it doesn't matter to someone as far-gone as that. Heh, this city's always been a crazy magnet." He nods sheepish, wordless thanks to Daphne before turning back to Nadia again. "You get out of all that okay?" he asks.
Daphne glances up to study the cop in question now that it's confirmed before glancing back at Alex, mouth screwed to one side as she considers his proposition. "How much would it cost me, or am I paying you to undertake this rare opportunity to challenge yourself?" The waitresses finally make the rounds, dropping off the food. Daphne murmurs her thanks before reaching for the syrup to drizzle over her pancakes. "I mean… I don't normally buy stuff if I don't have to, you know."
Aww, they shut up, talking about tother stuff. Like the incident on the bus. Audrey eyeballs the table and the small group there. She's had her little bit of fun, steering the conversation from afar. Cutting it off. A flag down of the waitress and soon there's a box procued, money left on the table and the badge collected, tucked away from whence it came. Enough time playing with the civvies, time to get back to ther Gray walls and work on some other stuff that had cropped u p.
"Charge? Why would I charge to make shoes for a pretty thing like yourself?" Alex finally sits up, a bit more relaxed when the cop sees herself out, blinking once to flash his silver eyes to Daphne, then blinks again to revert them. "You just need to help me test them, and I need to figure out your top speed, so, there will be a giant hamster wheel involved."
"Yeah..that was really weird. Gotta wonder…but we'll probably never find out. The cops might, but not us, I'm sure. I got out okay, thank goodness. What with the street giving out under the bus, and the bullet ricocheting around the place, I count myself lucky." Nadia shrugs, and leans back, gesturing to the other chair across the table from her. "Sit down, man, no need to keep standing."
"Oh! Right, right," Wayland says, and sits down in the diner chair, the air audibly fwooshing out of the plastic cushion. The burger comes his way and he looks down at it, ready to perform unspeakable things upon it with his digestive system, by the look of him. "Just don't see how a good cause would justify ripping off average joes who've never done anything to you. Good cause or not, it's not a smart one." He pops a fry into his mouth, disappearing into the blackness of his gullet like an afterthought. "I've been running all day. Makes everything taste good… I've never been running, or been this hungry, before in my life. It feels /amazing/."
"… How about I just run at top speed and you can use a radar gun or something? I'm not a hamster," Daphne tells Alex, though she looks amused at the idea. "I suppose. I'm a size 5." She eats a few bites of food — one more thing she does fast is eat, apparently. No pretending to be dainty for the pixieish blonde. At Wayland's words, she peers over Alex's shoulder at him, then slides from the booth, bringing her coffee with her.
Stepping closer to Wayland, she tilts her head. "Can you run fast? I'm just curious. Like… Super fast?" With a glance over her shoulder and around the diner, she reaches with super speed to snatch a fry from the boy's plate, her hand a sudden transparent-seeming blur before it slows and stills, waving the french fry at him. "Like super fast?" A bite of the fry punctuates her question.
"A radar gun, one of those things with a computer inside? Well… if it makes things easier." Alex agrees with a roll of his eyes, apparently preferring his hamster wheel method. "Should we exchange numbers? I think we should exchange numbers." he suggests, looking back as she starts snatching fries.
It's a blessed relief to be able to run around in clothes no more substantial than a t -shirt and pair of jeans. Though Fel, being Fel and thus paranoid, has thrown on a blue chambray workshirt over his t-shirt, all the better to hide the gun at the back of his hip. Or make a token effort towards it. He's gaunt and jittery and nothing like the sleek and self-satisfied Fed who returned to New York almost two years ago.
Turning towards the guy who just walks in for a second, Wayland looks up at Daphne, then down at her hand, then back up at her. "Really fast as in… faster than possible?" he asks sotto voce. "I don't think so. I have lots of energy, and I've been eating more than usual, but that doesn't make me superhuman, does it? I have no idea, whoever you are." A quiet sort of confusion or dread enters his voice. "What are you trying to say?"
Nadia shakes her head slowly, shrugging. "I agree. I'm just a normal girl. A student. I keep to myself and I don't bother anyone." She tilts her head to one side, grinning at Wayland. "Wow! Well, if you ever want a jogging buddy, I'm sure Holmes, my Corgi, wouldn't mind another person joining us on our daily runs." She blinks up at Daphne, tilting her head to one side. Another Evolved? "…That was pretty cool."
"Just a minute, Quicksilver," she tells Alex, lifting a finger in the universal 'just a sec.' Her dark eyes flicker to the entrance of Felix, and she frowns again. "Coughcopcough," she huffs behind her hand, to alert them that speaking of powers for at least the Unregistered is not wise.
"Not faster than 'possible,' because that would be impossible by definition. Just a theory. But then that's not how it happened to, er, people that I know. Must be something else," she says, her voice quiet and her words deliberately vague. "At any rate, it's either that or maybe hyperthyroidism — um, sudden, acute, onset. Should prob'ly see a doctor."
She moves back to her table to pick up her toast, leaning against the booth back rather than sitting, eyes darting to the door, making sure her getaway is clear — Just a habit! — before glancing back at Alex. "Sure, I'll give you a number. How long do you think it will take? I'm probably going to Paris for a day or two." Who goes to Paris for a day?
"Paris, eh? I'll join you." Alex decides on a complete whim, reaching into his pocket for a pin, then grabs a napkin and starts writing his number down. "So what are we doing in Paris? I'm not up to date on international news, but it sounds promising." he's apparently assumed that his self-invitation was also worthlessly accepted. "And, how long? Well, that depends on the results of our speed tests."
Cop, indeed. A spindly scarecrow of one, all nerves and sinews and too-watchful blue eyes. But Fel settles comfortably enough at the counter, albeit at the corner of it that lets him catch all the exits at once. Habitual paranoia. The staff seem to know him, though - a motherly waitress pours him a cup of decaf, which he immediately starts to doctor with positively unholy amounts of sugar.
"Right, right," Wayland replies, looking down at his burger. Flagging down a passing waitress, he requests a box as he gingerly nibbles on fries - he's a very slow eater despite his size and his clear state of exhaustion. With that, he stands up, says, "Maybe I'll see you around" to Nadia and, box in hand, is jogging out the door, breaking into a vigorous trot.
Offering a wave after Wayland, Nadia gets a smile upon her face as her own food arrives, a delicious-looking sandwich. Though she keeps an eye on Daphne as she begins to slowly eat her food, she seems quite content to quietly watch the goings-on in the background.
Daphne takes the napkin, glancing at it, then puts it in her pocket before reciprocating. The number she writes is to a cash-up-front cell phone. "Shush on the speed stuff already, you know? And I was just going to run over for the holiday tomorrow," she says lightly. The word "run over" could be by plane, right?
"Just a quick trip. You probably wouldn't want to go for that kinda time, jet lag will get ya. Or, you know. Me lag."
She hands him the napkin. "That one," she points to Nadia over Alex's shoulder, "isn't normal. No one normal says they're normal. Speaking of abnormal. I think I saw you before the other day at the ice-cream stand. Actually, I think I saw two of you. You looked younger. And … you know. Sleepy. Blink if you know what the hell I'm talking about."
"I know." Alex agrees with a grin, nodding back to Nadia, then returns his attention to Daphne. "Two of me? Oh, the dream… well, they weren't exactly me. Long story." He slips her number into his jacket, then spreads his arms across the back of the booth and watches her. "So, what time are we going to Paris?" He seems to be ignoring her subtle attempts at discouraging him.
"No one in this town -is- normal," opines Captain Bitchy from his catbird seat at the counter. He doesn't even look over his shoulder. "No matter what they tell you." Ah, Felix, spreading joy and sunshine and good cheer where-ever he goes.
"Well, that whole thing is a long story, and the finale was even weirder. The epilogue even weirder than that, but it's not my story to tell," Daphne says, taking a gulp of her coffee and another bite of her toast. She glances over at the cop at the counter and tips her head. "Well, no. Normal doesn't exist. You wanna turn around and join the conversation like a civil person or gonna just make snarky comments like Howard Cosell or something?"
"If I recall, I was blown into oblivion." Alex finally decides to reach for his black coffee, lifting it to take a small sip, not bothering to sit it back down on to the table. "Come on, Agent Detective Copperson, get over here if you're gonna comment."
"I'm not as clever as Howard Cosell," Fel says, with a sigh of mock regret. But he does heave himself up with a certain bizarre arrogance. Maybe it's all been done to him, there's nothing left to be afraid of. He comes cradling his mug in his fingertips, blue eyes heavy-lidded.
The Moroccan girl frowns briefly as she is mentioned, quietly eating her food and shaking her head. However, she retains her silence, preferring much more to keep her secrets secret. And Alex isn't drawing attention to her, so she is quite happy to remain where she is.
This day is bizarre. Daphne didn't really expect to invite a cop or fed into their conversation, and she isn't sure why she's actually considering allowing Alex to go with her to Paris. Maybe because he offered to make her shoes. She is a shoe girl. The way to her heart is through her sneakers.
"Bad dream, yeah," Daphne agrees to Alex, before turning to study Felix for a moment, a swallow of her own coffee taken before she steps aside to make room for him, if he wants to actually sit. She's not about to be the one closest to the wall — if she sits down again at all. Her eyes move to the door once more.
"Have you seen my car? It's the red 1969 Cobra Jet Mach 1 outside." Alex actually says this to the cop, possibly as an exorcise in penis wagging. "Oh, Alex, by the way." he offers, then extends a hand to Daphne when she stands. "Since we're taking a trip together, you should at least know my name."
Sit down Fel does, with that fussily regal air, as if he were a prince in disguise. Ah, delusions of grandeur. "Thank you," he says, solemnly, nodding to each of his tablemates in turn.
Finishing her meal, Nadia raises to her feet, pulling her wallet from her bag and placing the cash on the table. Then, she pulls out a small piece of marble from her bag, making her way over to Alex and tapping him on the shoulder, murmuring something about him calling her later if he wants to get together. Then, just as quickly as she walked up to him, she's on her way towards the door, smiling.
"Da… Dani," Daphne lies. There's a cop sitting in the booth! She takes Alex's hand and shakes it, then sits down. There's still food left in her very large breakfast. She smiles up at Nadia when the girl comes to murmur to Alex. "I think you have someone here who's more interested, Quicksilver," she tells him, before picking up her fork and spearing a sausage link, bringing it to her lips to bite. Dine and dash is easy for her, but this is a free, legitimate meal — a rare thing in her world that she shouldn't waste.
"She's a fine girl, but, not quite my type." Alex starts to dig into his hash browns with bacon on the side, switching the cup to his left hand, both in black leather gloves. "She's a bit too straight laced for me, I need a little more unpredictability. I sort of dated a cop once, that was interesting. I was going to date that woman in the dreams, the Asian woman, but she was unfortunately killed."
Felix sighs in sympathy. "I've dated cops more than once. It can be rough. Something about the job," he says, as he stirs creamer into his coffee.
Daphne's eyes close when Alex mentions Hokuto's death. She didn't know the woman except in the dreams — some of her experiences with her good, and others obviously nightmarish, but the aftermath of the woman's death is still a painful, still-healing wound in Daphne's psyche. She picks up her uneaten bacon and puts it on Felix's plate suddenly. "Eat. You're too thin."
She mulls over whether Corbin counts as a "cop" or not — she decides not. "You're a cop, yeah?" she says bluntly to Felix. "This place is cop central or something? I missed the memo."
"I know how rough it is dating cops, what with their… well, other cops to date." Alex sounds a touch bitter, despite being completely disassociated with the actual events of dating Cassidy. "I should stop coming here. I should have been tipped off by all my memories of cops coming… not that I need to avoid cops or anything."
"This is cop central, yes," Fel affirms, calmly. HE takes the bacon and devours it in decorous bites. "It's a good twenty four restaurant. Cops know things like that. I used to be NYPD. Now I'm a Fed. Yes, that's worse."
"I really didn't get that memo." Maybe it's because she doesn't actually socialize with any of her criminal colleagues, but you'd think she'd know that this was a cop hangout. She'll have to remember that for the future. "A fed, huh?" She frowns. The more federal, the worse in general, is her rule of thumb. She watches him eat her bacon, eyebrows rising.
"Well. If I'm gonna make it to le quatorze juillet, I should get going." She gives a bow of her head to Alex. "Thank you. Are you coming? It's just for like two days. I have gigs this weekend I can't bow out on."
"Of course I'm coming, it'll be nice seeing the Eiffel Tower, very curious about the construction and composition." Alex stands and leaves his food there, then slides a twenty on the table and holds his hand out for her. "Let's go cause some chaos, I'll try my best not to scare the French."
Felix notes, utterly deadpan, "It's not hard. They're like pigeons. Enjoy yourselves."
There's quite a lot of food left on the plate, but Daphne has Cliff bars in her courier bag. "Bon jour, agent!" she says, giving a little wave, and gesturing to the food. "Eat up, you're too skinny." It's the midwesterner in her, to want to fatten him up, apparently. She takes Alex's offered hand, wondering just why she's doing this.
But, if he gets fresh, she can always abandon him in the run across the Atlantic.