10028/A Chance Meeting at ESU

A Chance Meeting at ESU
Date of Scene:	07 February 2022
Location:	Empire State University
Synopsis:	A snow debate meet-cute ends in an impromptu trip to Coney Island in the middle of winter!
Cast of Characters:	Alexander Aaron, Hella Rokkurdisardottir

---

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Winter has its bite and New York is nowhere near immune.
    The chill was harsh rolling in off the East river, and it brought flurries that flew and fluttered around the Empire State campus like little spirits leaping from snow-covered tree to snow-covered tree. Not too severe, but enough to foul sight and make what traffic there was drive slow as the tires whisked through the greyish grime.
    For the students it wasn't bad, and during the afternoon after most of the classes had let out, some even laughed and ran about enjoying it. Alexander Aaron, however, stood on the stoop of the library with his ex-roommates Kelso and Nelson as he murmurs sidelong to them, "Anyone who likes snow has never had to shovel it."
    Condemning words given, though they cause the larger student Kelso to grin and lean against the railing. "C'mon man, thought you liked Christmas and all."
    "Christmas was fine." The blond youth with the half-smile said, tilting his head to look at the other two, "Hardly any snow. But all the dirt and nastiness. Ugh."
    "Didn't you grow up in Illinois?"
    "Exactly!" But as he said that, Alex laughed a little, smiling and shaking his head as he started to walk down those steps. He adjusted the hang of his backpack with the roll of a shoulder, his black pea coat nice and warm against the weather.
    Nelson, shorter than the both of them asked, "You going to the Delta thing?"
    Turning around to walk backwards, Alexander shook his head, "Nah, I'll catch you guys later."
    "Okay man, seeya."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella runs a little hot, generally speaking. It's one of the many side-effects of being born of Muspelheim. On the one hand, it means that she can withstand temperatures so high that she could swim playfully in lava, if she wanted... But, it also means that she doesn't feel the cold as sharply as others, because her body is constantly regulating itself to keep from emitting too much heat. Thankfully, that's something that's just part of her body's autonomic functions.

    But, what all that means is that Hella is dressed pretty casually for the current temperature -- a snug, zipped up white tracksuit jacket with soft pink accents and the letters ROKKUR on her back, a pair of black cargo pants that are stylish, and a pair of brilliantly white sneakers. Her long, pale blonde hair is plaited in twin ropes to either side of her head, one of the braids trailing down her back and one over the front of her shoulder. It might be difficult to see in the daylight, but she's giving off a bit of steam from her entire body.

    She's strolling at a slow pace, tilting her face up to the sun to soak in the sensation of its warmth matching hers, while the chill in the air clashes against her skin. It's a really pleasant sensation, to experience cold, but not /be/ cold. It was always like this, back home. Well, for a large portion of the year. It makes her nostalgic. She's kind of lost in thought when she hears someone disparage snow. She halts in place. Should she? Should she defend her beloved snow? Ah, probably not. People are allowed to have differing opinions. Still. She can't help herself from saying, maybe loudly enough that the departing students can hear, "Is pretty!" Her voice is quite feminine, but bold and striking, especially with the exceedingly thick Russian accent. "Snow. Is pretty," she says, gazing down at the thousands of snowflakes piled on the ground. She studiously ignores the grey slush that has accumulated at the edges.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The group had been splitting, though there was no shortage of others around, walking along the quad and wending their way on campus and off. Waves were given, but then that voice rises, sharp and pronounced as she offers her declaration of defense regarding the so maligned snow.
    Which draws the attention of that blond youth who had been walking along the path. It's enough he draws up short head tilting to the side, "Snow."
    He says loud enough to gain her notice, hands deep in the pockets of that pea coat. He seems not too terribly cold himself, but then again that coat is rather nice. Though it is loose about him. Hard to gauge his build, save for the broadness of his shoulders. But his smile is amused, and those hazel eyes meet hers as he finishes his opening sentence.
    "Can be pretty." He stops and tilts his head to the side, curiousity bright in his eyes. There is something about her. Something intriguing but his senses have not been so honed beyond just realizing there is a feeling from the young Russian woman.
    "This snow, however?" He lightly boots the toe of his shoe into one of those small piles of sludge. He doesn't answer beyond that however. Save to look up, meet her eyes, and then crinkle his nose.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella glances over in the direction of Alexander's voice, fixing him with an intense gaze from icy blue eyes. It's a look that, somehow, communicates a lot without actual words being exchanged -- 'I'm prepared to argue with you, but I'm willing to hear what you have to say, first.' Or, something to that effect. Hella's looks are very complex and can convey a lot. Sometimes. She takes in his appearance, this detractor of snow! His smile is disarming, but there's something about him that makes her feel as though she should be on her guard. Not, like, ready to throw fists or anything. Just, wary.

    At the exact same moment he begins to finish his opening sentence, she attempts to finish it for him. "Is pretty," she nods her head agreeably. Considering they both end in the word 'pretty,' their simultaneous replies blend nicely. Hella lifts her chin a bit and arches a brow, watching as Alexander boots the slush to make his rebuttal. At the cute crinkling of his nose, Hella smiles. Though this young woman may appear intimidating, given her physical build and her slightly above average height, she's really quite attractive; if one is appreciative of blonde Nordic women, that is.

    She shakes her head with confidence and lifts a dismissing hand, "No, no, no. I see problem. This?" She gestures to the grey glop, then looks back up at Alexander with an enlightened expression, like that of a sage explaining theory to the uneducated. "....Is not snow. No. This? Slush. Not pretty." In a way, she's agreeing with him!

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A little laugh turns into a small 'snerk' of a sound, which just makes him laugh a little harder. Not at her, well perhaps not eventually at her, more at himself. But his smile is a warm amused thing even as he walks around the small bend. "I would say,"
    He takes a few steps and pauses near to tilt his head and consider the grey glop that she has so advanced as support for her theory, declaring it is indeed not snow. An olive branch offered in support of possible detente. But there really is something about her as he cocks his head to the side curiously.
    "That... is a form of snow." He nods, those pale hazel eyes meeting hers. She is warm, subtle waves of heat and it causes him to ponder thoughtfully as he continues with his argument. "All snow eventually becomes that."
    As if that was somehow a winning argument. Then he adds, "But, I agree. Snow..." He looks up and to the sky, the hints of white overcast broken by the sun's rays that offered her that moment of warmth and respite, there is something picturesque about it. "Can be beautiful."
    There, halfway he meets as he looks back. Then he sneaks in a qualifer, "Sometimes."
    And as easy as that he eases one hand out of his pocket and extends it toward her, "I'm Alexander. Aaron. Alex for my friends."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella doesn't take offense to the laughter. She's used to people chuckling at her interesting way of communicating; bold and proud, her confidence is softened, perhaps made endearing, by her pidgin-tinged English. She simply watches as he comes closer, liking the fact that he doesn't appear to be intimidated by her, from all indicators that she can see. But, also wary. Still wary!

    She chucks her chin in acknowledgement of the point he makes, her eyes now narrowed thoughtfully. After a moment, she interjects, "No Could maybe argue is /form/ of snow," her R's so poppy in their rolling. "But!" she holds up a triumphant finger as she delivers her next crushing blow. "By same argument, water is snow. Steam. All different states of snow, yes? Pure, no mixture. Agreed?" She pauses, rolling her hand in the gesture that means 'so it follows thaaaaat...' "Slush is /not/ snow. Slush is like recipe; snow, polluted by human shoes, dragging dirt, muck... Yuck," she concludes, folding her arms with a proud expression on her face. What will he say to THAT?

    To his introduction, the proffering of both name and hand, Hella smiles and accepts it without reservation. She grips his hand firmly, but not too firmly -- she's practiced this a lot -- and replies with a brightness in her voice, "I am Hella Rokkurdisardottir, Alexander Aaron, Alex. Pleased to meet you!"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The young man's smile broadens a little at the summoning of her name as they grip hands. Curiously his ungloved hand is firm... warmer than most, but his grip is not aggressive as he holds for three shakes then releases after a moment. Business-like, but friendly. As he not only hears out her argument, but her introduction as well.
    "Hella," He says, committing it to memory. His pale gaze holding hers, then he looks askance to the subject at hand, that small glop of sludge, "Ah so you are arguing..."
    He says those words slowly, then looks back. "That slush is a melange of detritus, dirt, and snow. But snow excludes any change in state." And at that he actually chews on his lower lip in thought, eyeballing that sludge as if it had personally offended him. "But."
    He says that last word as if it would instantly win him the argument. "I would argue that without snow, there is still dust and dirt and whatnot. But it is only truly noticeable to such a degree... by the addition of snow. And so it is a prime ingredient."
    His eyebrows raise as he looks back to her. But he has a hard time maintaining that faux serious look. The smile returns, playful, amused as he then asks. "Hella, are you Asgardian, by any chance?"

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella nods to his summation of her argument, "Correct!" She listens with interest as Alexander cooks up his next rebuttal. She feels that she will either win this debate, or it will end amicably in an 'agree to disagree' situation. It will be one of the two! If she wins him over, so much the better. If not, oh well! It's an interesting thought experiment, in her opinion! "You could argue that," she nods her head, drawing the phrase out. However, she follows up with a devastatingly quick riposte!

    "But, you would be wrong, Alex!" she declares dramatically.

    What follows is a Hercule Poirot-esque denouement, wherein she lays all the facts out in rapid, but staccato precision, unfolding the truth before Alexander's eyes. "Yes, there is always dirt and dust. We agree! That is why slush is /recipe/ and not proper, pure snow. Dust, dirt, ingredients! Snow, ingredient! Mix together? YUCKY SLUSH," she says triumphantly. "Pure snow, falling snowflakes, piles of soft white crystals of water... Pretty!" She smiles winningly.

    Then, to the question regarding Asgard, her smile falters. Just a little. She smiles anew, perhaps a little more forced than before, and clears her throat. "Gosh, just threw that right out there, huh? I'm....let's say Asgardian-adjacent?" she offers with a sheepish sort of grin, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. Then, trying to seize the opportunity to change the subject, she notes, "You must be... Ah...how to say. You know about Asgardians, so big fan boy or...?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    He follows along with her argument, head tilted to the side, and clearly giving his focus and thought to the matter. Alexander's eyes lift, watching the movement of her lips briefly, then the way she animatedly projects. It's enough to cause the curve at the corner of his mouth to lift oh so subtly as he shakes his head a little. Perhaps not in negation of her argument, and more simply drawn along and amused.
    "Well," He says at the last once she brings forth her series of arguments and lays them before him with all the casual aplomb of a Belgian Detective. He nods and nods, "Just one thing, however." He adds, in his own Colombish way. "Is that we have now agreed these are two separate entities. So I grant you then. Snow is pretty. And slush is not." A victory.
    But then when she seems to subtly wilt oh so slightly, he lifts a hand as if to interrupt. Yet she offers her thoughts to the matter of her heritage. Then he says, "Oh no, there is no judgment here." A pause, "I mean there was. I've known several Asgardians and we were at first not friends. Then we became friends."
    A tilt of his head, a slight smile twisting his features though a little sad. "And we dated for a bit. But you just reminded me in some ways." Then his nose crinkles as he perhaps teases a little, "I used to call them ren-festers. They didn't like that."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella is unaware of how charming she can be, to those who aren't in the opposite court, of course. Most people adore Hella or can't stand her. Thankfully, it's mostly been the former and not so much the latter. Though, she's never let a little thing like someone hating her get in her way of interacting with them, if she feels the urge!

    However, it seems she's receptive to Alex's smiles and the warmth he exudes, giving back as good as she gets. She's really a quite bubbly, warm person, despite her sometimes bombastic nature. "VICTORY IS MINE!" she pipes up, showing what a gracious 'winner' she is! "Snow is perfect, the winner forever, of all time!" She grins broadly, grabbing Alex in a big, squeezing hug that includes a few firm backpats. It's only fair to end a debate with friendship! Well, at least, in her family, that's the way. Strangely enough.

    She does seem relieved, visibly, when he clarifies that there's no judgment coming from him. The fact that he doesn't press the matter and ask for more details is also a big relief. For now. She listens with interest to his explanation, hearing a little about his history with Asgardians. She, as of yet, has not interacted with any, and she's quite nervous about when it finally happens. It gives her the jimmylegs just thinking about it! Thankfully, she's standing and her legs can't do their jimmying. She tilts her head in curiosity. "What is ren-festers?" she asks with genuine confusion. And, it's also probably notable that, while she's definitely /somethin' special/ and Asgardian-adjacent, she's not quite as challenged when it comes to being 'in the now.'

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    And with that Muspelheim gains its first victory on Midgard in several thousands of years. Lo, for the vanquished doth hide his mirthful smile behind a grim facade, even as the victor embraces him. Yet such an embrace draws laughter from him despite his wishes and she'll feel him return the hug with one arm, /thumping/ heartily on her back and then stepping away to look in her eyes, one hand on her shoulder. And so he declares, "You are a mad woman."
    Yet the smile never leaves him. Instead he shakes his head and turns to start walking a little, very slowly, but definitely lingering as if asking her silently to walk with him. For the conversation wanders to some aught else which has him nodding slowly. "Ah, a renfest."
    Now that takes some answering. He slows his pace a little, turning to look sidelong at the rather built young woman and murmurs, "It is where people go to... try and get a hint of what it was like to live in the past. Medieval times, or Renaissance. But really it's an excuse for people to dress up and speak in a Shakespearean accent."
    He pauses and tilts his head sidelong toward her, pale hazel eyes bright with amusement. "So I tease Asgardians, by saying they sound like a Renfester, because they... dress up interestingly, and speak with an amusing accent in the same sort of way."
    That said he gives a firm nod, as if that was all that needed said about the matter.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella doesn't find anything strange about the returned hug or the thumping. Goodness knows she's received far worse congratulatory 'pats' from her brothers! It's kind of like affectionate ass-kicking, at times. A dichotomy, for sure, but as natural as breathing, for her. She gives your shoulders a good shake in return, her grin bright and genuine. "You say this because you must, to save face. I accept it! Yes!" she says magnanimously, releasing your shoulders and letting her hands fall to her hips.

    It doesn't take much encouragement for Hella to begin walking alongside Alex, keeping in step with him well at this casual pace, perfect for conversations. She listens with interest to his explanation of renfaires and the types of individuals that people them, her eyes sharp and her expression keen. She's always interested to learn more about people, and their cultures. Sociology is one of her favorite subjects!

    As he finishes his description, Hella's eyebrows shoot upward in surprise. "I have seen on TV, people dressing like the old days. There is show, Vikings, is very reminiscent of my home life, though little antiquated," she nods her head. "Is fascinating. Good to know that some people are curious about history, knowing where they came from, how their people got to present day. Respectful. I can honor these ideals, even if is just a hobby," she allows, as though renfaire folks needed her approval!

    Then, to that mischievous expression, Hella narrows her eyes playfully and purses her lips. "You make fun of their keeping to old ways! I can see why is funny to others. Normal for me, what I grew up with, in a way. Similar. Buuut, I also embrace modern culture, as you can see," she gestures to her very cute athleisure outfit. "Honoring old ways doesn't require wearing only authentic old-style things. I do honor MY way, and is good enough for me. Still, you will tease me for how I speak, eh?" she nudges Alex's side with her elbow. It's gentle, but firm enough to note that, if he takes it too far, she might be less than gentle! Despite that, there's still a pretty smile on her face. Though it's unclear, it could seem like she welcomes the ribbing and play-fighting that might ensue.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    There is a good vibe from her, rough of course, but also something akin to a playfulness that is a rarity to find in souls wandering the city. Despite his feigned grumpiness it would be a crime not to match play for play. So he crinkles his nose again sideways and casually checks her hip. Not rough, not even too much, but perhaps enough to make her stagger a step in recovery.
    Of course then he oh so naturally picks up the pace ever so slightly to be out of range for reprisal as he replies from a pace ahead, "Now now, you don't know me well enough to know what I will do. Though I think you are perceptive enough to understand that teasing, indeed, could well be in the offing."
    His tone changes slightly, more formal, hinting to the rhythm he uses when speaking to Asgardians and the ilk he meets from the old world. "Though not about how you speak," He walks sideways for a time as he confesses, "I've always had a soft spot for a Russian accent." Which has been his downfall in the past, alas.
    "Though," He says after a moment, those curious eyes meeting hers. "It would only be fair to mention I have a heritage upon which I connect. Akin to Asgardian in some ways. But different." As he says that he tilts his head and falls back in step.
    As fate would have it their strides are leading them, albeit slowly, to the rows of food trucks that line up daily along the thoroughfare for the university. Then he asks curiously, "Will /you/ make fun of me for it?" Turn about is fair play, after all.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella emits a cute sound of surprise when the hip-check catches her off-guard, though she recovers quickly and without much difficulty. REALLY, though. She should've seen it coming, as much rough-housing as she's done with her brothers. Truthfully, she wasn't counting on Alex being so quick to return it. Usually, men are sort of overwhelmed by her bold personality and lack of self-consciousness. Just ask Scott Lang about that one!

    She laughs and swiftly closes the gap between her body and his with a gentle shoulder bump, her face glowing in the soft light of the day. Little whispies of white-blonde hair have started to pull free of her tight braids, as the wind blows to and fro.

    "Tease me! I can take it," she says confidently, her expression of exaggerated arrogance adding to the comical nature of her reply. Of course, similar to the night she met Ant-Man, Hella sometimes makes comments that read as double entendres to native English speakers...but, she doesn't quite catch it, herself.

    To the question, she grins broadly. "Like you say, could well be in offing, but not for how you speak!" She laughs and takes a moment to look at the food trucks to see which appeals to her the most. As she does, though, she glances back at Alex and adds, "I think is very interesting and I will enjoy learning more, if you will let me."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Oh I don't know about that, my teasing has such great power!" His voice rises, but not as strong as hers, but it's clear he's amused. Enjoying himself. Even as he strolls along and warns her such of he fury of his teasing. Yet she may well tell, others may find her intimidating, great and focused and wild...
    But Alexander seems so entirely at ease, as if naught could ruffle his metaphorical feathers even as she shoulder bumps him. That earns her a point at her as if giving her fair warning of what would happen to her if she continued down this path. It's accompanied by him biting his lower lip and /glaring/. But it's hard to give that glare much weight considering he grins the moment he looks away.
    "Well here, how about... I give you a hint?" That said he makes his way up to the side of Petruchio's Food Truck! Which has a lovely image of pizza and pitas on the side. "Hey, Gary. Two falafels?" He asks that last while looking at Hella, seeing if she'll join him.
    If she does then he'll order two, but if not he'll get himself one. It doesn't take long, as that is their main staple that's sold each day. So he takes his in hand and then follows after her as he murmurs, "So, my father has a history with Asgardians. Doesn't get along with them. Which has led to me being perhaps... being a little judgmental at first. Though now I call a good number of them friends."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella is pleased with herself. The glaring dark look from Alex doesn't seem to faze her good mood! Especially because it's not like he follows it up with harsh words or separating off from their walk. All in good fun! And, such fun~ It's really nice to not worry about whether or not she will be 'too much' for the people around her. To Alex, it seems normal, so she can just let herself be -- and, that's saying a lot! Still, she insists in a softer tone, as one might retort under their breath but just a bit loudly -- Hella's version of sotto voce -- "Do your, Alexander Aaron!"

    Then, there's the offer of a hint! Oh, this is exciting, and her icy blue eyes go wide. "Yes, hint! Hint!" she says with all the enthusiasm of a puzzle-addict. She pauses in her demands for hints as Alex speaks up to Gary and orders the falafels, looking to her for an answer. "Oh, I've never eaten falafel! I will try it, yes," she says with a grin, dipping her hand into her pocket to pull out her phone to pay for hers. "Do you need cash, or will phone pay do?" she asks the vendor.

    Hella nods her head as she listens, finding herself wondering what questions to ask. "Why does your father dislike Asgardians? Did they do battle?" She figures this might be a safe-enough topic, considering the Asgardians are a warrior culture, like hers is. "Does he still dislike them, even though you are friends with some now? Does it make relationship strained?" she asks, her eyes narrowing as the sun peeks out of the clouds and brightens the whole area for a moment.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    She saw him pull out a university meal card and pay for the falafel, but when she asked about the price he tells her with an easy smile. "I have these, you get the next time." But then he's walking away from the food truck, footsteps light as he casually steps over a puddle then scuffs the toe of his sneaker in a bit of grit and grimy frost. Though he does pause for a moment. Points at the slush and says, "Snow."
    But then he grins and continues to the nearby bench which he'll brush with one hand to get some of the ice crystals off along its sides then takes a seat falafel and all. His backpack is set down with a slight shlumpf of falling books even as he takes a first testing nibble of the falafel.
    Only then does he answer her, "My father is... very old. And yes he did battle with Asgardians in the past. Though they also fought side by side." His tone is calm, precise, those pale eyes distanced in thought as he ponders what to say. How to say it.
    "He dislikes some of them. Some he grudgingly calls friends. But no, my father and I are still on good terms." There, her questions asked and answered. He shifts a little to the side to make room for her then takes another bite of the pita.
    "You see," He holds up the falafel and half-smiles, "I'm Greek." There, such a clever hint. "And my father holds war above most all else. But our family was terrible to him. Really horrible. So he told them all to go to hell." A nod is given as he looks to her, making sure that there aren't too too many people around to overhear. Yet not seeming afraid.
    "So he left them, and came to Earth. And he met my mother. They fell in love. And then I was born."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella smiles and nods, not uncomfortable with the idea of paying for the next meal, at all. She will definitely make sure she does that! She accepts the falafel with relish, taking a deep breath in of its appetizing aroma. It's definitely different from Russian cuisine, but she's always game for trying new things! She's got her mouth full of falafel when Alex pokes the bear of Snow vs. Slush, again. So, she glares and scrunches her face up, giving a vigorous headshake. She lifts a hand to cover her mouth as she can't help but add, "NOT snow." She swallows a bit and, her hand still covering her mouth, she exclaims loudly in delight, "FALAFEL IS AMAZING!"

    As they settle on the bench, she digs back into her food while Alex speaks. She nods her head occasionally, and makes eye contact from time to time, to assure him that she's paying attention, even though her mouth is stuffed with delicious falafel. She often keeps a hand in front of her mouth as she horks down the food, because it's not polite to eat the way she is, but she's so used to, y'know, having to scarf it down before one of her brothers snatched some or all of it away. It's just habit, now! At least she doesn't make disgusting noises while she does this, though! It's just that her cheeks are puffed out, not unlike a squirrel hoarding food, and her lips are puckered together to stay closed as she chews. The hand in front helps hide the less-than-cute way she inhales food!

    She takes a break to swallow down a huge mouthful of falafel and takes a deep, satisfied breath, in and out. "At some point, we all fight together or against each other. Is the way of warrior culture, no?" she comments with a smile, after she wipes her mouth with a napkin, of course! She pulls out her water bottle, which is huge and half frosted white and pink. This seems to be a theme with her, maybe, her tracksuit jacket matching. She pops the top on it and tosses it back, chugging a good 8 ounces before she stops to take a breath. "Ahh! Very refreshing!" she nods, pleased, and grips the water bottle between her thighs casually. It seems like muscle memory, perhaps from the way she hydrates while training or something?

    "Important thing is...you understand each other enough to get along, despite differences. This is goals for all families, I think. I feel sad to see so many people who weren't raised in positivity and encouragement, like me. How can that be? Love is easy to give. It feels good to give. I don't understand," she sighs, looking a bit bummed. "At least your father has you and your mother, and he is happy with that. Yes?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    For some reason, the declaration of Not Snow causes him to laugh again, just shaking his head as he looks up at her while she makes that approach. His own eyes twinkle with unrepentant amusement.
    Of course those first words are drowned out by the second declaration from the honored gentlewoman of the Muspelheim delegation and he laughs louder. He nods slowly as he accepts the second, if not entirely the first then he murmurs, "Yeah, I like it too."
    But perhaps not quite as vocally.
    Then he listens to her own angle of things, glancing at the water bottle, then back up into her eyes. She gives her thoughts and he nods along, but then he murmurs, "He has me. My mother passed when I was born, I'm afraid." Thouugh he knows people at times react sadly when he says such he murmurs, "It's alright, happened a long time ago. We've made our peace with it."
    Then, perhaps to leave it in the past he pushes on as he murmurs, "Since then I grew up, lived in Midgard. Though I've been to Olympus a few times."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella leans a little closer, in a kind of camaraderie, at the mention of having lost his mother when he was born. "I understand. I never knew my father. He's...y'know. Very, very old. And, scary. Mama tells me he loves me, but I don't know that he can. Is okay. I never felt lack of father because I have so many uncles, brothers, just family. All my family raised me. I am close to all," she replies, sharing her own version of the single-parented childhood.

    "What is Olympus like?" she asks with bright, curious eyes, her thighs kinda bouncing together, her water bottle still held between them. "I've never been to Asgard, though I've been to other places. I grew up in very rural area of wilderness in Northern Russia, after I was born at original family homestead in the wilds of Norway. My family follows old, old traditions and seek privacy to remain unjudged. So, kind of like another world. But, I only know little bits and pieces about other cultures like yours," she admits.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A small twist of his smile is seen as Alexander listens to her about her family, some hint of sympathy is there, even as he leans back in perfect counterpoint, shoulders lightly touching. He gives a nod, "That's a good thing, I'm envious. Most of my family..."
    His smile broadens a little, then adds, "Are kinda jerks" But as he says that he glances down to where they touch slightly. She's warm, curiously so. And she hasn't revealed where she grew up, but there is something... pleasant about not knowing. Not asking directly.
    "Oh Olympus." His eyes widen as he takes another bite of his falafel and chews for a time. His gaze distances past her and then he murmurs, "It's beautiful. There's no denying that. Tall and stern in some ways, but welcoming in others. It's always like Summer there, and there's a feeling of nothing weighing upon you. Like you have the freedom to spend years just swimming in the rivers, or hunting in the woods."
    His eyebrows raise, then he looks to her, "And time passes differently there so it's deceptive. But I prefer being here."
    But then he gently shifts and asks, "Tell me about where you grew up? What it was like?" Another small bite of his sandwich and he chews, swallows. "What you do for fun, what you like."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella laughs at the statement that a lot of Alex's family are less than nice. She can relate to this sentiment well, though she's not quite sure how she can explain that without oversharing. 'My aunt Hela? My namesake? Ohhh, she's only a little murderous, at times! Nothing most people don't have to deal with, amirite?' Yeah, no. That's not gonna work. Instead, Hella laughs warmly, genuinely, taking another deep drink from her water bottle as Alex eats more of his falafel. Hers, of course, is history. Nothing but a balled up napkin in her hand, now!

    "Ohhh, that sounds really nice. I've never been in a place where summer lasts for very long," she says, trying to imagine it. Then, he asks her to tell him about her home and she takes a deeeeeeep breath, looking off at a point somewhere far away from where she sits. "Well, I told you I was born in Norway, yes? In family homestead, original one, from old days. Is family tradition, for my bloodline. All mothers give birth there, even if they live somewhere else," she begins. "Thing is, is very like the home I grew up in in Russia. I traveled to see old homestead once, and is nice, but nothing too different from Russia homestead," she lifts her shoulders a bit. "Both deep, deep in wilderness, far away from civilization. For safety. Is very cold and snowy for much of time, but no problem for my family. We run hot," she grins crookedly, glancing down at the spot where her shoulder touches Alex's. He's sure to feel it, eventually, even through his loosely-worn peacoat.

    She cants her head, closing her eyes to imagine home as she describes it to him. "There is big lake only five miles from home in Russia, go swimming there during summer and fall, as long as water is flowing. We self-sustain. Hunt, train, have fun. Very...disconnected from world," she intones in a kind of faraway voice. Then, she opens her eyes, "Am lucky Mama let me have friends in town, so I know about technology. At home, very low tech. Traditional, you know?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "That..." Alexander follows along with her words and for a time it's like he's lost as well, his own gaze distant and perhaps lost on times of the past. Better times. He looks sidelong at her and then gives a slow nod, his smile a smaller thing. Yet still warm and sincere as he murmur, "Sounds really nice."
    He takes a deep breath, and then looks away, brow furrowing faintly. Then he exhales and looks back toward her, "We would hunt and train. Take long trips in the woods. My dad is... sort of a prepper. So we always had this... do it for yourself approach to things." Then out of nowhere he asks, "Do you fence?" In that way one has when they imagine that it would be so nice to have this common touchstone shared.
    But then he waves it off and says, "But as to all that. What do /you/ do for fun. Now. Here." He looks around, gesturing a hand to he side as he crinkles up the wrapper of his falafel. Not too much left, but some. "Like if I asked you, 'Hella Rokkurdisardottir'," He pronounces that name with some formality, hitting the double 'k' with a guttural roll of the 'r's. "Where would you take me to for fun if I asked? You would say?"
    That hand uncurls back to her even as he lightly flits the wrapper into the nearby trashcan.

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    Hella smiles back, nodding her head. "Is very nice. I miss home, sometimes. But, I go to Brighton Beach to help Russian immigrants there and, eh...is a /little/ like home. Enough to take edge off," she smiles wistfully and listens quietly to Alex's following words. She nods her head to the description of his father, the tone of his personality sounding very similar to the men in her family. To the question of fencing, Hella's eyes widen and she laughs, "To be honest? I've only ever trained to punch and kick ass. Anything around me is makeshift weapon. Finesse...eh, not my family's way. Very brute force, very in your face, very no holds barred," she winks. "Not to say I wouldn't enjoy trying! Are fencing instruments very durable?" she adds.

    Ahh, the subject of fun! Hella's face brightens and she wriggles in her seat a little. "Oh, so many things are fun, Alexander," she murmurs in that thick accent of her, the syllables popping crisply while also somehow rolling smoothly. "I can have fun in so many ways, is hard to think of just one or two!" she says, gripping the sides of her chin in a thoughtful gesture. "I love to shop online and buy all kinds of weird, random things. I love to lift weights, work out, and train. I love to fight; /especially/ evildoers! I love to put out fires and save people's lives! I love to meet new people and make new friends!" she lists off, sound more excited by each thing. "I'm...pretty fun-loving lady, really. Can have fun almost anywhere, anywhen. But.." she trails off for a moment, narrowing her eyes in thought.

    "If you ask me where to go for fun, I would say, 'Alexander Aaron, come with me to fair! We will ride all rides, eat all food, win all prizes, and take funny pictures for memories! I will win big polar bear plushie and you will carry it for me!' Something like that. ...Oh, heck. I really want to go to fair, now!" her last words are anguished, but not grievously so. Just bemoaning the lack of the presence of a fairground.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Oh, Little Odessa," Alexander says as he nods a bit about the place and the company she may well likely keep. But then she offers her thoughts toward fencing and she can see the young Olympian's smile fall oh so slightly, "Aw, that's too bad. I know myself and several friends have been looking to get some new blood into the fencing club."
    Then she asks toward their durability and he shakes his head to murmur, "They are not." Because it's unlikely that a foil or epee would survive contact with the whirlwind that is Hella. "But you could always try." He offers helpfully. Even as he turns to the side to face her, listening as she begins to recite the many and myriad ways that Hella Rokkurdisardottir has the potential funs.
    She lists various things and he laughs a little, shaking his head at when she mentions weights on down to evil-doers getting their comeuppance.
    And then she answers with the big answer. "The fair?" He seems a little taken aback, head tilting to the side as he ponders. Winter Fairs are not too common. Then his brow climbs, "Well, there's Coney Island. But it will be a little cold. Though you seem rather warm." A look to the side and he digs into the chest pocket of the pea coat he wears only to produce a cellphone that lets him check the time. "We'd have a few hours..." He considers, likely imagining the logistics.
    Then he says pointedly, "If I win the plushie, you have to carry it though."

Hella Rokkurdisardottir has posed:
    The look of disappointment on Alex's face has Hella cringing inwardly. She hates to let anyone down, really. Hella snaps her fingers when she hears about the fragile nature of fencing gear. "Well, you know, is no time like present to learn new things; eh?" she says brightly. "Finesse is useful skill, too. I would gladly try your fencing, Alex. Maybe I am surprising natural!" she nods her head agreeably, shifting her braids back over her shoulders so they trail down her back. Maybe this will make up for the earlier disappointment! She hopes, anyway.

    Then, Coney Island is mentioned! Hella is still kinda new to New York and all its various venues, so this comes as a surprise to her. "Coney Island is like fair? We can go?" she sounds excited, like she can't believe her luck. "No worries about cold. I make my own heat, naturally, when needed. Will you be too cold?" she asks, watching Alex peer at his cellphone. She's kinda bouncing in her seat, again, her thighs bopping together a bit in an anticipatory case of jimmylegs! "DEAL," she says brightly. "I keep it safe, /forever/," she adds, sotto voce...which isn't quite soft enough by a fair margin. Her grin is unapologetic!

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A laugh is given as Alexander tells her, "Sure. I'll be fine. C'mon." As he says that he reaches over and grabs his backpack up off the ground, swinging it over his shoulder and settling it in as he rises to his feet. A glance is given toward her as he murmurs, "We'll just take the A train and it'll be about twenty minutes."
    That said he offers her his hand for when she rises politely and should she accept it will help her up with... a surprising amount of strength all told and a rather warm grip. Then he turns and starts walking, "C'mon. They have really good funnel cake."
    And as he confides that small bit of information off they go.