Participants:
| Scene Title | Twain and Nietzsche in the Park |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Diego and Daphne meet up to finish the deal on a prior job, trading quotes and cynicism along the way. |
| Date | January 25, 2010 |
A Park in Manhattan
The message came, just weeks later than expected. When Diego finally called in to collect on his notebook- and offer the rest of Daphne's payment -it came with instructions on time and place. The place is a park on a nice block. Its not big, but well kept. It would appear to be something of a haven for local dog owners, and they're in evidence being walked and jogged with. Often times impromptu games of fetch, frisbee, or get-the-girlie's-attention spring up often.
Diego himself is seated on a bench, his trusty sidekick Capone laying nearby with his head on his paws.
One moment, she's not there, and the next she is, a rustle of wind and a ruffle of Diego's clothing and Capone's fur to announce her presence. Daphne stands in front of Diego, looking amused, her white-blonde hair wispy about her face, her cheeks pink from the chilly bite in the winter air.
"Thought you forgot about me," she says, tilting her head curiously, then reaching into her courier bag. Her hand comes out not with the journal, but instead with a big rope knot for Capone that she tosses to the ground in front of the dog.
Capone immediately comes to attention at this unexpected development, sniffing the toy curiously. It is only moments before the dog is whining. He repeatedly seems ready to pounce on the unsuspecting rope victim- err, toy -but instead looks over to Diego with pleading puppy eyes. Diego can only laugh and wave his head toward the toy. "Go ahead, dummy." And then the rope is taken up in the dog's mouth, whipped about, tossed a few feet and pounced on so the cycle can begin anew.
"Forget about you? Never." Diego's smile is mischevious but genuinely playful. A nondescript envelope is withdrawn from an interior coat pocket, which he sets in his lap. The envelope bulges in its attempt to contain its contents, but any elaboration on whats in it is apparently unncessary from Diego's point of view.
The petite speedster just laughs, and pulls out the journal procured from his old apartment. "I didn't have any issues, but that doesn't mean that there wasn't anyone watching. Just no one that gave me any trouble coming or going." It's hard to trouble a blur, of course. She hands the journal over to Diego, while her free hand turns palm up in black fingerless gloves for the envelope.
Diego offers the envelope before taking the notebook. Super speed vs. Super reflexes- who would win if either tried to screw the other? Diego doesn't make an attempt to do it, though, happily exchanging the money for his 'notes'. "Yeah. Funny how people with closets full of skeletons don't want folks with cameras running around unaccounted for. But no worries for you, right?" Obviously. "Did you read it?"
Daphne puts the envelope in her courier bag with just a peek to ensure it's money making it bulge rather newspaper or something else. No need to count it, for now. "No, I didn't read it," she says, with a tilt of her head. "But I glanced at it to make sure it's what I was looking for. I didn't see any other notebook in the same spot that could have been the thing. That's the right one, right? I'd hate to have gotten you some useless … um, philosophy class notebook or something." She gives a toothy grin. "If it's the wrong one, I'll go back if you need me to, no charge."
Diego flips through the pages absent mindedly. "No, this is the one." The envelope contains money, alright. Nothing bigger than a 20 and non-linear numbers. "Hey, you'd be surprised how… motivating… the right words can be. The right words like the ones in this book, and shit… you can have pretty much anything you want."
"'The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug,'" Daphne rattles off with a smirk. "That's some book though. Bartlett's has got nothin' on you." She reaches up to tuck one of her erratic dreadlocks behind one ear. "I'm guessing it's not just quotes, though, if you care that much about it. Like when I was a kid, I used to write out all my locker combinations to things in a phone book, like they were phone numbers, right? And cute little names to match. Like a PE locker would be Jim, right? Not that I was ever in PE."
Diego grins, watching the trail of the errant dreadlock before letting his eyes slide back over to the playing pup. "'About the time we can make the ends meet, somebody moves the ends'." Once the exchange is finished, he leans back into the park bench. He glances casually at the empty space- plenty for her to sit, if she were so inclined - "Thats about the right idea, though, if a little less technical. When I still had lockers in school I was too worried about what the cute girl down the hall thought to come up with nifty ways to memorize my combo."
Daphne takes the seat and watches Capone for a few moments. "When I was in school, the cute boys and girls didn't want anything to do with me, so I invented other things to think were important. Like guarding my oh-my-god-so-important stuff… which wasn't really all that important, but it was one of the few things I could have some sort of control over." She looks up, surprised a bit at the rather cogent analysis of her younger self. "Wow. I sound like a shrink or something, huh? So." She nods to the journal. "What's the next step for you?" She assumes he has some plan in the works, now that he has his super secret notes. "Don't worry. I'm not looking for a score or anything, just curious. Had enough business the last couple weeks that I can be a spectator for a bit."
"Not sure, yet. Still trying to get my head straight with all the news I've been getting lately. Friends of mine from all over the world have been shitting themselves, but nobody is really sure what the fuck has been going down. I want to get an idea of that before I make any big decisions." Diego chuckles to himself as he looks back over to her. "I know its coming to an end, but its been really nice to be a spectator. Anyway."
"I think some people saved the world or something. Again." The words are said a bit wryly, but she smirks. "But you know, it's like the whole hole in the dam. Plug one hole, there's a leak somewhere else." She muses on that a moment, before tilting her head. "What's coming to an end?" Her brows furrow a touch at that. Is he saying the world is ending soon? Is he committing suicide? Is her getting the journal the key to some apocalyptic event he's about to put into action?
"Same shit different day." Diego comments casually. The end of the world? From the way he tells it, you'd think it was a daily event. Like the Today show or being regular. "But we're getting a little deep here for two people that are currently, supposedly, spectators."
"No shit," agrees Daphne. "I musta forgotten the sugar in my Cheerios this morning. I'm all gloom, doom, and fire ants or something today. All right. Well. You know how to find me if you need me, yeah?" She stands, brushing off the back of her coat and pants, and then bending down to scritch Capone behind the ear where he lies chomping on his rope twist.
"Next time I'll bring you something to cheer you up." Diego offers off-handedly. "Capone likes you, but you stress 'em out." Capone actually shows absolutely no signs of being stressed, his expression essentially boiled down to 'nomnomnom' on his new toy. Spoiled brat. "Just make sure you don't run 'round the globe the wrong way too much and stop the rotation before I see you again." What? Really?
Daphne arcs her brow first at Diego, and then at Capone, content as he can be with the chew toy she brought him. "Pal, if the dog was any less stressed out, he'd be a poster pup for Qualuudes, Nietzsche. And what are you going to bring me, hmm?" She's curious as to what he thinks would cheer her up. Besides money, of course. Money is always good for the giggle making.
"Not sure, yet. Still trying to figure out what a girl like you is into." Diego splits his time between watching Daphne and his dog and the other goings-on around the park. "I'm not one of those guys that just instinctively knows what'll bring a smile to a woman's face, unfortunately."
The speedster looks amused at this. "A girl like me, hmm? And most of those kinds of guys are boring, anyway," she replies. "I like your dog, but please don't bring me a 90 pound mammoth. I don't have the right schedule to take care of one myself." She stands again, and hoists her courier bag over her shoulder. "I could tell you, but that'd be too easy. It'd be more fun to see what you come up with." There's a saucy smirk and she turns to go. "Bye, Nietzsche."
"Later, Twain."
