When A Sandwich Just Isn't A Sandwich


len_icon.gif tamsine_icon.gif

Scene Title When A Sandwich Just Isn't A Sandwich
Synopsis Len treats Tamsine to a sandwich after she finishes her registration appointment.
Date September 4, 2009

The registration process was not too terribly unpleasant. Len's Homeland Security badge allowed for him to be present during most of Tamsine's appointment, unless of course, she asked him for a little privacy. He wanted them to take care of her and not treat her badly. Not saying that they do, but there have been instances where it's been known to happen. With Len around, everyone was respectful and just a look from the large cowboy and it was time to move on. Once it was complete, he escorted the woman out of the building to his Jeep. "See? That wasn't all that bad, now was it?" he asks with a smile as he opens to the door for her.

The diminutive red head smiles. "Well, no, but I'm sure you being there didn't hurt," she says in her clear, sweet voice. "And the fact that my power is pretty straight forward. I mean, it's not like I'm a mind reader or anything like that." She climbs into his Jeep, holding down her skirt as she does so in a ladylike manner. "Thanks for coming with me. It's nice to have," she pauses, searching for the right word, "a friend along." He seems like a friend, even if it's part of his job to make sure she gets registered (or at least, how she understands his job).

Sure. Len drives around every evolved who needs to register just to make sure they do so. "Honestly, I had nothing better to do today, and you seemed like you could use the company. It was a pleasure to do so." Despite his upcoming mission, he puts on an air of being good natured, though he occasionally finds his mind drifting off to more unpleasant thoughts. "Was there anything in particular that you had questions about?" He asks as he closes her door and lets himself in the other side and starts up the Jeep.

"I … don't know. I mean, what do they do with that information? I know it's available for people to know, to look up, right? Like, it could keep me from being employed or something?" she asks, hesitantly. "Who all can look at the information?" She fingers her shiny new Registration card she is now legally bound to carry at all times.

There's a moment of quiet before he answers. "Oh. Nothing like that. It's strictly for Law Enforcement use. Now, if someone goes aorund teleporting into bank vaults and walking off with large sums of money, then someone may come and knock on your door. Otherwise, you should be just fine." The Jeep turns out of the parking lot as he drives on. "Do you need something to eat? We can stop for a sandwich or something. They kept you in for a while, you must be hungry."

"I haven't seen a bank vault, so I don't think I could do that," she admits with a chuckle. "I need to be able to picture where I'm going or I can't see it well enough to know if it's clear or not." She had demonstrated to the officials but it's not like they can see what she sees when the portals open. "Sure, we could get a bite to eat." She smiles at that.

"Yeah, well, all they would have to do is place you inside at any point and you'd be on the hook. So, be careful where you teleport to. I don't need to be bailing you out of jail for a second time." Len turns and gives her a wink. "I know just the place." he says as he turns a corner and slides into a parking lot. The weather is nice enough. There's a few tables, and a cart with an elderly man serving sandwiches and hotdogs. He slips from the Jeep and opens her door. "It's not fancy, but I guarantee you the best sandwich you've ever eaten."

"I don't plan on going to jail a second time," Tamsine says with a smirk. "So you should be off the hook." She slips down from the Jeep - it's a long way down for her short legs. "Thanks," she nods, and lets him lead her to the outdoor tables. "I'm not really a fancy kind of girl, so that works out just fine."

Len leads the way as he walks beside her towards the cart. "Carlito!" he grins widely to the eldlerly man. "This is Tamsine. You'll take good care of her, right? I've been hyping up your sandwich." Len says to the man.

"Leonard! It's been a long time!" In actuality, it's only been a few days, but Len only laughs. "I can't possibly be your only customer, my friend." Hands are clasped. "I'll take my usual." Len turns to Tamsine. "What kind of sandwich do you prefer? My man Carlito here will hook you up." He places a gentle hand behind her back, guiding her closer.

Tamsine watches the warm greeting between Carlito and Len with some amusement. When Len asks what she likes, she looks a little uncertain.

"I don't know… I mean, when I make sandwiches, it's generally tuna or PB and J, because that's about all I'm good at," Tamsine says with a smile that turns sad after a moment; it was only for Lily that she ever made sandwiches at all. "What kinds do you have?" she asks, peering into the cart.

Carlito scrutinizes Tamsine for a moment. "Missy, I can make you the best tuna sandwich you've ever tasted. But I've got all sorts of things here. Turkey, ham, chicken, roast beef." It's all on display, though covered up for freshness. With the different types of meats, he has the typical toppings of lettuce, tomatoes, different cheeses. However, the only bread he seems to have is white bread. He already flips over a couple of slices and begins making Len's sandwich which appears to be a combination of roast beef and chicken with plenty of vegetables and a orange colored sauce. He wraps it up for the cowboy and slides it over with a bag of plain potato chips, then turns to Tamsine waiting for her decision.

Decisions, decisions. "I don't actually like tuna. I just know how to make it," she murmurs, frowning as she surveys all of the food. "Um. Something chicken and spicy?" she asks, not sure what the sauces are. She glances up at Len. "How often do you eat here?" she asks with a smile. "I'm not even on a first-name basis with my hairdresser."

"When you make a sandwich as good as Carlito does, you make sure to remember his name." Len grins as he takes his sandwich. He waits for Carlito to work his magic on Tamsine's sandwich. "Spicy, young lady? I think I can do that." And he begins to work. He layers some sliced chicken on the bread and adds some of the vegetables and cheese. He sprinkles a few diced pepers onto the sandwich before spreading the top layer of bread with his orange sauce. "There you are. One spicy chicken sandwich, my lady." He wraps it up and slides the sandwich over with a wink. "Carlito, you are the man." Money exchanges hands and Len picks up her sandwich and leads the way over to a table, waiting for her to sit before he joins her.

Tamsine murmurs her thanks, heading to the table to sit. The slight wind blows her red hair about her face, and she pushes it back, glancing down at the sandwich and then up to Len. "So you're obviously not from around here. How'd you get to New York?" she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind one small ear, before bringing the sandwich up to her mouth to take a bite. "Wow. Does he have something to drink? It's spicy. Good, but spicy."

"I made the mistake of ordering something spicy from Carlito." he grins. "Never again." He stands and walks over. A brief exchange between the two and a laugh is shared before Len is handed three bottles of water. No money exchanges hands here, so perhaps Carlito expected as much would happen. Len returns and sets two down in front of Tamsine. "He said one will not be enough. I hope it's not too spicy for you. Carlito takes his spicyness seriously, I'm afraid. I should have warned you."

Len twists one of the caps from her water, then one of his own. "I've actually only been in the city for about half a year, I guess. Originally from Texas, if you hadn't noticed." he explains.

Tamsine shakes her head. "I like spicy, I just need water with it," she says with a grin. "People see a white girl and think she can't handle the heat, right?" She's kidding of course, though there is truth to the words. "I go through a taco stand and ask for hot sauce, they always hand me the mild until I demand the hot. My mother says it must be the hair, since she can't stand anything spicy, and my dad, who I get the red hair from, is just like me."

Len works on his own sandwich, pausing to add to the conversation when he's not chewing food. "Being raised in Texas, you tend to get used to the heat. But I've never been a really big fan, I'm afraid." Len has been watching the red-head as he eats and they chat. "So, have you lived in New York your entire life?" Granted, it probably wouldn't take him long to find out this information, though he has far more scruples than most give him credit for. He has not had her looked up at all, respecting her privacy.

She nods, taking a sip of the water, then setting the bottle down again, and picking up the sandwich. Apparently it's not too hot to finish. "Greenwich Village. Born there, raised there, bought my own place there. I like it, though it's not as nice as it used to be, of course." What is, in the past three years? "I haven't been very many places. Haven't been to Texas. Everything is bigger there, apparently." A size joke, but he is, after all, more than a full foot taller than she is and probably outweighs her by 150 pounds.

Len nods as he listens. He's been to her neighborhood. If may have been a nice place at one time, but things are much different here now. The city as a whole is different. It's something he cannot really fathom, only having been here after the bomb. He gets the size joke alot, but he still smiles at it. "Including the idiots." he winks, taking another bite. He washes it down with some water. "Sometimes you don't realize how 'big' dumb can be until you've been in Texas for a while. But seriously, I love it. I wouldn't trade growing up there for anything." His eyes are on her as he takes another bite. When he can, "You haven't had any problems since I brought you home last week, have you?"

The only drama has been Magnes coming and telling her that Adam Monroe is a murderer and torturer of young women. But she's not about to bring that up. At least, not the Adam part. "That cop came to apologize to me," she says quietly, dark brown eyes dropping down to her sandwich as she straightens it, so the bread is aligned perfectly, before taking another bite. After chewing and swallowing, she continues. "Varlane."

When Magnes' name is brought up, Len has to take care not to choke on his sandwich. He clears his throat and nods. "Just be careful with that one. If he gives you any trouble, let me know. We've had our moments." Though the boy wouldn't remember them. Len's sandwich is gone. He finishes his water. He honestly doesn't think Magnes is going to cause her any trouble. But trouble does seem to follow him around. "I have a few contacts with the NYPD that I can call, if you need me to have him back off."

Her brow furrows, and she shakes her head. "No, he didn't mean any harm. He felt bad for the fact they handcuffed me and wanted to apologize." She takes another bite of her sandwich. "I don't think he has it in him to be a cop. He's tender hearted, that one. Wants to save the world and protect all the innocents, but he's an innocent himself."

Len watches her eat, talk and just live life in the best way she knows how. He doesn't know alot about her, but what he knows, he likes. She's 'good people'. "Look, don't be afraid to call me if you need anything. You've done it before, but I won't want you to think you are being a bother to me." He could say it was his job to protect the public, but honestly, he can't protect everyone, but something about her makes him want to protect her. "Keep my number handy. Maybe I'll bring you back to visit Carlito sometime." he grins.

Tamsine finishes the sandwich, neatly wiping her mouth on the napkin after. She smiles at Len and nods. "Well, I wish I could offer you some help in return, but there's not much I can offer unless maybe you want a beer or something," she replies. "I manage Biddy Flannigan's, so if you come in, I'll set you up with a beer on the house." She doesn't like to use the word own, since she doesn't really own the bar, and it's rather ostentatious sounding, even if she did.

"Well, I can hardly turn down an offer for beer. I do like my beer." Len picks up the wrappers and bottles and takes them over to the trash. He picks up the last bottle of water and hands it to her. "You may need this later." he smiles. "Let's get you home." He leads her back over to his Jeep to drive her home.

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