Multicultural Experience


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Scene Title Multicultural Experience
Synopsis Two guys and a girl congregate in an apartment and talk over beer and Chinese.
Date November 17, 2008

Dorchester Towers - Ethan's Apartment

Dorchester Towers is home to many upper class, or more wealthier inhabitants. This apartment seems to be no exception. First impressions of this place, give a homey, and well furnished feel. Lamps are put in the right place, decorations here and there. The living room consists of a large green sofa facing the wall of windows, which has a large flat screen TV in front of it. Speakers are installed all around for the Surround Sound feel. Next to the TV is a cabinet full of DVDs. Most of these movies include a gun of some sort in each of them. A small coffee table sits in front of the couch, a few magazines spread out on it.

The kitchen is well stocked, with a microwave, coffeemaker, and of course a toaster. There is an overhead pan rack hanging over the stove which has many pots, pans, and other utensils hanging from it for easy access. Three doors lead away from the kitchen and living room. Two are large, comfortable bedrooms, complete with posters on the walls, and one is a room that is furnished with a stand up punching bag, dumb bells, a treadmill, and other types of work out equipment.

For the -extremely- well trained eye, or for someone who knows what they're looking for it would be apparent that there are little things off about this apartment. Reinstalled panels, etc, that would suggest whoever lives here has done some renovation work. (Note:Ethan has 'toys' hidden throughout his apartment, in case of 'emergencies'.) Overall though, this spacious living area has been well taken care of, and kept very tidy.

Late in the evening, and Ethan seems to be relaxing. He is sprawled out on the couch. The man wears a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. It has been a while since he has had the place to himself. And with Munin being ordered not to show and Wu-Long taking Odessa's time, and Sierra off being Sierra. Ethan is wonderfully alone.

Different cartons of Chinese food are spread out on the coffee table before him, a pair of chopsticks in his hand. Wu-Long would most likely detect that the Englishman is using the chopsticks incorrectly, but he uses them all the same. The TV is on the news, talking about the recent explosion in Club 214.

"Ethaaaaaan," from behind the door, Odessa whines softly, tapping at the entrance from the hall. "Let me iiiin. I'm cold and I'm wet and—" There's a quiet whimper to accompany another tap. "Ethaaaaaan. Pleeeeeease open the door." She really, really needs a key.

Or she doesn't. Placing a piece of sesame chicken in his mouth, Ethan gives a lazy groan in response. Getting up just does not sound awesome right now. Slowly and reluctantly the man gets to his feet. Wiping off the sauce of his chin the man makes his way for the door. Unlocking it Ethan swings the door open and turns his shirtless back to her as soon as its open. He goes back for the couch. "'Ow are you lovely?" His tone sounds less than excited.

For once, Wu-Long takes the door. This incredible novelty was brought to you by the letters O, K, and all of the alphanumericals in between, and the number two, though apparently the small blonde was unaware of this fact for some period preceding. The elevator beside the box she had taken up dings his arrival a few seconds after. Doors grumble open on discreet rowels and he steps out, a boot clicking marble, the long panel of his coat slapping off the back of his calf.

He doesn't greet Odessa as he comes to her back. Parks, instead, directly behind her; polite acknowledgment of their queue, until she steps in to greet the Englishman. He'll add his, then, a simple monosyllable.

Odessa jumps when she realizes Wu-Long is behind her. She wastes no time in hurrying into the apartment, scurrying to one side of the couch near Ethan. "I've had better days. Can I borrow one of your shirts? I'm freezing and I'm not putting that stupid dress on." Despite her coat, the drizzle outside has dampened her clothes, causing her to shiver.

A nod to Wu-Long before the man collapses on to the couch. The man leans forward and continues to pop chicken into his mouth. He nods absently to Odessa, waving his hand dismissively. "You know where they are. Grab me one as well." He requests before looking to Wu-Long. "'Ungry mate?" He points to the cartons with his chopsticks. Though he refrains from making a racist joke.

It's quite all right. Wu-Long has one prepared. "Flied lice. Classy." He smiles: crow's feet at the corners of his eyes and a flash of tooth, broad and white, even as he removes his shoes by the doorway. He shrugs his long coat off, collapsing the garment into long winding lines, inside-out, before he installs it on a piece of furniture. Not to ruin Ethan's shit. "Yes, please. You bought her a stupid dress?" His socks take him across the floor; he seats himself in a chair adjacent, pulling on his ponytail once. "Why couldn't you get her a nice one?"

The woman disappears into Ethan's bedroom to change clothes. She's fast about it, too. When Odessa returns, she's dressed in one of Ethan's button-down shirts, and tossing a second shirt over the back of the couch to fill his request. "The dress isn't stupid when he's not making me up to look like some cheap hooker," she corrects herself. Obviously it isn't the dress that bothers her, considering her choice of pyjamas.

A glance to Wu-Long. A shrug of his shoulders. Taking the end of the sticks he's not salivating over he pokes one carton and edges it towards Wu-Long. Leaning forward he fishes out another pair of chopsticks from the paper bag and flicks it to the man. He then looks over his shoulder to Odessa. An arched brow at the speed. He puts down his chopsticks. She may not be modest, but he is. The man fixes the shirt around him though he doesn't button it up.

"I never called you a cheap 'ooker. I would imagine you be a very, very expensive 'ooker."

No, no, according to her pyjamas she's the paragon of subtlety and ever so hard to read. Which would explain why Wu-Long sort of stares at her a moment, though only when her eyes are averted, accepting the chopsticks with a self-guided turn of a hand, before he turns his head toward the proffered carton and starts to pry away at it. He notices specific shortcomings in Ethan's technique, but chooses not to remark on them; instead, the man's disquiet warrants comment instead, though not inquiry. "You look like you could use a drink," he states, his gaze still down in the food.

"Doctors tend to command high salaries," Odessa quips and peers at the food on the table. She perks up at the mention of a drink. "Beer. Great idea. I'll go get those." She pads off to the kitchen, humming tunelessly for a moment. "So, I decided to go exploring today and ran into a very peculiar man in the subway…"

"I'm not sure I can advise you wandrin' bout the subways." Ethan offers as he pounds down some Mongolian Beef. "'Is name is Flint Deckard. Not John." A slight smile around his chewing. "Dessy though. That's cute, Odessa. We should start callin' you that."

Spearing chicken, piling on rice, gathering both in enough sauce— oil, really— to hold it together, Wu-Long takes a bite. He listens to the two Caucasians speak without having to look, subjecting neither to the specific intimacy of his stare. His shoulders hunker slightly, forearm leaning on the edge of the table. "It occurs to me he still isn't trying very hard," he mutters with an oddly canine snf. If he notices Ethan had made no mention of the fact he looked like he needed a drink, he doesn't mention that again; not yet, anyway. "Deckard. You like him?" He glances up finally, at Odessa.

There's a gasp from the kitchen and a bang against the cupboards, followed up closely by a swift, "I'm okay!" Odessa slips back into the room with three beers. "You heard all— … You're monitoring that creep?" She glances at Wu-Long and shakes her head as she hands him a beer, "Not a fan, no." A beer is handed off to Ethan. "I mean, I sincerely doubt you were following me. So, why are you monitoring him?"

"'E's an Evolved arms dealer. With the fear escalating in this city, he could certainly be used for information. Especially in the Evolved world. " The offered beer is taken and he murmurs a thanks under his breath to the woman. "I 'ope you were talkin' far away from 'im." The Wolf says with a little grin. "'E can see through clothes." He tips his head back to take in the beer. "I was very surprised to 'ear your voice on there, Odessa. I almost ran down there myself. You should think about tellin' me where you're goin' from now on." Not a command, just a suggestion. He looks to Wu-Long and gives a nod of agreement. "Either e's not scared enough or we've scared 'im so much 'e's apathetic. We need to listen and figure out who 'e loves. If anyone. Or someone 'e at least likes to be around. Then we can make 'im serious."

Good. Saves them hassle, if Wu-Long doesn't have to kill someone the initiate of doubtful but promising value likes. He scoops mouthfuls into his jaws in quick succession, chews, swallows, laughs a little through his eyes when Deckard's ability is mentioned, gaze swiveling toward Odessa, momentarily, pre-empting an entertaining reaction of some sort. He sobers the next instant. Ruining a man's life. That would be work. "He mentioned someone who could be of more help: 'Kain.' If Deckard doesn't work out, he could be an example for the other man." More rice, and he looks up. "Amato could find out." The Italian's name is spoken neutrally.

Odessa's eyes grow as wide and as round as saucers, fixed on Ethan when he mentions Deckard's ability. She actually begins choking on the mouthful of beer she was about to swallow. One hand reaches out to grip the back of the couch as she doubles over, hacking in an effort to clear the liquid from her lungs.

A little grin at Odessa's reaction, then a pause as Odessa starts to choke over the back of the couch. "You alright, love?" Ethan asks, holding his beer near his mouth though he takes no drink as of yet, making sure the woman is alright. "I'm sure 'e didn't use it on you. 'E seems like a very respectful man. I'm sure 'e respected your privacy." His lips are in a broad grin when the bottle meets them again. He glances over to Wu-Long. "You know anything bout this Kain?"

"Never heard of him," Wu-Long answers simply. He apparently finds himself somewhat more obliged than their host; he lays his chopsticks down in a moment, rises with an easy straightening of his crossed legs and steps them out of configuration and over to Odessa's side, snagging a napkin from the table-top as he goes. He ducks his head to catch a glimpse of her face underneath the stringy shadows of her hair, reaches up, palm layered over with paper, to cup the falling contents of her mouth even as he drubs her quaking back with his other fist. Once, twice, like playing the bongos, economic, firm rather than gentle. His puppy requires so much looking after. "We will probably have to ask Deckard."

The liquid is finally expelled, thankfully into the napkin rather than on the floor or into her own bare hand. After one last labored cough, the blonde straightens up again. "He knew I was carrying a gun," Odessa mutters. "I'd say he used his ability. With comments like he made, do you really think he—" She pauses to cough again, covering her mouth and then making a face before turning on her bare heels and promptly hurrying to the kitchen, where she flips the faucet on with her elbow and proceeds to wash her hands. "I can't tell if he liked me or hated me. He seems to think I'm rape bait, as I believe the saying goes," which implies that she isn't seeing where that connection's being made, "but I can't tell if that means he finds me attractive," a thought which draws a shudder, "or repulsive." Oddly enough, she can't decide which is preferable. No woman wants to be repulsive, but Doctor Knutson doesn't seem to want to be seen as attractive, either.

"Right. I'll 'ave you do that, if you don't mind, Wu-Long. Get as much information on this Kain as you can. What kind of name is Kain anyways? Whot is 'e a fuckin' porn star?" Another gulp from the beer. "Whotever, just get everything you can on 'im, and then pay 'im a visit." Ethan says before standing.

Looking to the kitchen, the man frowns at Odessa's state. "Per'aps 'e's a puff? As a matter o fact, I'm sure 'e is. You seen the place 'e stays? No woman would go in there. So, e's gotta be packin' the chocolate." Ethan says with a broad, reassuring smile to Odessa.

Puppy puke. Wu-Long glances at it momentarily, just to reassure himself nothing like blood or feces managed to up and into his hand, before balling up the tissue and shuffling off to find a trash can to drop it into. He will also, after a moment, decide to wash his hands. The faucet runs audibly for a few seconds, the tinkle and splash of water. "No problem," he calls out. "Now, or in a week?" The sink's off again with a squeak, and he pads out, seating himself again in the same chair. He is as disinclined to examine Odessa's dysfunction in the current company as he is in Ethan's.

Odessa flashes the Wolf an incredulous look as she ambles her way back into the living room. "Ethan," she reprimands, "that's disgusting." She rolls her eyes and actually pulls a chair out from the dining table, bringing it over to sit. "Sorry," she murmurs to Wu-Long, followed up with an even quieter, "Thank you."

"At least 'e wouldn't be ogling you, love." Ethan says in response to Odessa's assertion. Finishing off his beer he places the empty bottle on the coffee table. He pauses for the moment as he eyes the coffee table. "I need to get coasters for this thing." The Brit notes with a little sadness in his tone. Then the man looks back to Wu-Long. "As soon as you can. Don't 'urt 'im. Unless 'e's an ass'ole."

An errant thought through Wu-Long's head: When isn't Deckard an asshole? He acknowledges Odessa's gratitude with a modest motion of a hand and leans down to partake in his dinner again. "My pleasure," he says. He may well mean my duty, but he doesn't tend to differentiate between those two. For Ethan, there's merely a nod. He'd add 'Sir' to it, somewhere, but gets the sense the Englishman doesn't need to see masticated rice.

"Aren't they always assholes?" Odessa asks. She sighs and leans back against her chair, draining the beer only through the neck of the bottle before she seems to have decided that that's quite enough.

A slight grin is delivered to Odessa's question. Ethan leans back into the couch, then sprawls out fully on it. "So. 'Ow 'ave you two been? Anything I can 'elp with? Findin' the city alright? Dessy are you content stayin' 'ere, or do you want a new place?" The man asks as he tucks his hands behind his head.

The Asian man throws a crick out of his neck with an abrupt, almost mechanical torque of his shoulder, then scratches the side of his neck with the ends of his chopsticks. Wu-Long glances up between Ethan and the blonde woman, inquisitively parsing her reaction to that overall question. He's a tourist too. They've exchanged tips.

It sure beats Odie. But admitting that vocally is just begging for the teasing nickname again, so she doesn't bristle, either. "Things have gone as well as I suppose they could be. For someone with no identity and no currency, I think I do all right. I don't think I'm ready for my own place, loathe as I am to admit it. So, it looks like I'll be commandeering your bed a while longer." On that note, Odessa rises from her seat to put the chair back where she got it from and to stow what's left of her beer in the fridge.

"Very well." Ethan mutters. There is more than one bed. And a couch, and when worse comes to worse he'll simply shove her off of it. Maybe throw her a blanket. With that the man seems to visibly relax in the couch. Business and formalities done with it's time for some family time. Ethan grabs the remote and pumps up the volume of the television.

Because it seems a natural segue or progression of conversation, Wu-Long finally volunteers the results of his own day. "I've rented a place in Chinatown. You're both free to come whenever you like, but my dining table is much smaller," he remarks. He glances at the television for a protracted moment, before his attention swivels to woman and Englishman again, placing a polite moment's eye contact on either of their faces, before he leans back on his chair, hair curling on his neck and chopsticks scraping away at the contents of his carton. "I make better Chinese food than this. No offense, bruv," he remarks, slipping a quaver-beat into Cockney for no particular reason other than because he can.

Odessa pauses in the frame to the kitchen's entrance. "Ethan," she says gently, "I can sleep on the couch if you want your own bed back. It's no trouble." She glances briefly at Wu-Long, his hospitality ignored for the moment as she wraps her arms around herself self-consciously.

"It's cheap, it's filling, and with you 'ere, I feel like I'm 'aving a multicultural experience, my son." He says cheerily. Then a glance to Odessa, his lips curl up a bit at her concern. "Not a problem love, not a problem. Stay as long as you'd like."

November 17th: Glitter and Rainbows

Previously in this storyline…

Next in this storyline…

November 17th: Motorcycle Mamas
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