Participants:
| Scene Title | Superstition |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Monica tries to sneak a glimpse at Hiro's time web, but doesn't quite make it. |
| Date | September 11, 2010 |
New York Rooftops
It's early morning when Monica makes her way back toward Jittetsu Arms, camera in hand. After all, it's sort of a faction puzzle, the time web, and this is like getting a copy of the cheat sheet. It's out of habit that Monica makes her way there via the rooftops rather than walking down the street like a normal person. But there's less crowds up top. And… the view is better? But really, it's simply a more fun way to travel. Sometimes you have to make your own, after all.
Down the street and around the corner from her target, the mimic is jogging her way across one of the lower roofs on this block, single-minded at the moment.
Single-mindedness is a good trait, when paired with determination; it helps with the completion of tasks, particularly difficult or dangerous ones. Less good, with anything that might suggest tunnel vision — too much focus on the goal, not enough attention to the periphery, and surprises happen.
Or maybe it's more that Tamara has unfair advantages and doesn't often hesitate to use them.
The blonde announces her presence on the rooftop with a sharp tsch of tongue against teeth. "You have to ask the right questions first. The only way to know the road is to be it; get lost in the woods, it's not my job to rescue you."
Chiding though her remarks are, the girl smiles at Monica, an affectionate warmth that might take any perceived sting out of the words — more so, if they'd ever met before.
The sudden voice very nearly makes Monica trip over her own two feet, which doesn't happen very often, but then, it's so rare she runs into people up here.
Clearing her throat and straightening herself up, she needlessly brushes dust from her clothes before she looks over at Tamara. "I… wasn't aware I was needing rescuing," she says with a little, crooked smile that might be a touch nervous. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?" That gentle southern accent just tints her words after all her time away from home. But it's hanging on, stubborn.
The blonde is dressed in a purple tanktop and faded denim cutoffs, her sandals not exactly the most appropriate footwear for adventures on rooftops. That doesn't seem to bother the girl any. Nor does the mussed nature of her shoulder-length hair. "The people who really need it never do," Tamara allows. "But you're not one of them yet, so it's okay." She reaches up to brush a stray bit of hair out of her face. "I'm Tamara," she offers — which probably doesn't clarify much.
"Yet?" Normally, that might be something Monica'd take as a threat, but this situation doesn't seem to quite fit the bill. Not for threatened. For confused, yes. Puzzled, certainly. "I'm Monica," she offers, all the same, instinctual politeness. "I guess now's when I start asking questions, but you know, I'm not very good at puzzles. I'm more of a hands on… action-oriented type person." Because hopping rooftops wasn't enough of a clue, apparently. "Were you waiting for me, up here?" The good news is, she doesn't actually seem to find that possibility far fetched at all.
She isn't trying to threaten at all. Bewilder, unfortunately, doesn't even take trying. "That's all right," Tamara assures the older girl. "I'd really rather you didn't. Questions are insistent noisy little birds." The blonde drops to sit on the rooftop, knees drawn up and chin propped on folded hands, after a moment's pause for a yawn. "Are you staying, up here?"
Monica watches the other move to sit, and she glances off ing the vague direction she was heading before she looks back again. "Well, not forever," she answers with a crooked smile and a lighthearted tone. "I was on my way to… see… a friend." The lie is anything but smoothly delivered, completely with her gaze sliding off to the side.
Stifling her mouth against her forearm, Tamara giggles. "You just didn't know it," she says brightly, recognizing the lie for the truth it is. Despite having only just sat down, the blonde hops up to her feet, stepping forward to briefly rest a hand on Monica's shoulder — or try. "Go if you want, but try not to be surprised. Needs get confused with likes, and they really shouldn't be."
Caught. Monica looks back over to Tamara, but with a more sheepish look about her. "It's…" Her brow furrows a little, and she puts a hand on her hip, but the stance is more playful than really upset. "You're very confusing. I dunno if anyone's mentioned…" She glances toward the little shop again, a frown on her face. "Are you saying… I shouldn't go? It's not gonna be there, is it? I knew it, you know, i was standing there thinking… why didn't I spring for the phone with a camera on it?"
The blonde simply smiles, and if there's a knowing lilt to the expression, it mostly conveys a sort of patient warmth. "You didn't need one," is her (probably predictable) tongue-in-cheek answer. "Look to where you're going," Tamara continues, taking a step back and letting her hands rest at her sides, "not where you've already been."
Monica sighs lightly and looks a little disappointed before she looks back to Tamara. "You know, most people would just think… Oh, another New York nut, hanging out on rooftops. Is it weird that my life is surreal enough that it would never be just another New York nut hanging out on a rooftop?" Her shoulders sag, though, and she tilts her head some. "I just thought… if we had the real thing, maybe it would help more."
One slender-fingered hand reaches up again, patting Monica's shoulder in sympathetic reassurance. "Each shadow when you reach it," Tamara says gently. "Not before." She smiles at the young woman, then steps away, turning with apparent intent to depart. "You say that like there's something wrong with rooftops" is the completely unrelated statement cast over one shoulder in the process.
"Yeah, I know… I'd just like to be equipped with a big flashlight, when I get to them," Monica says, and although she is still disappointed, she drops it for the moment in favor of giving Tamara a friendly smile. "What- No, hey, I love rooftops," is what she calls out as her own sort of farewell. One last parting glance toward the sword seller's shop… and she sighs and turns back the way she came. A little too superstitious to go check it out.