11173/Best Kept Secret

Best Kept Secret
Date of Scene:	15 May 2022
Location:	Ramen Empire
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Talia al Ghul, Danny Rand

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Talia al Ghul has posed:
Is Ramen Empire Manhattan's best kept secret? Talia al Ghul probably wouldn't tell you, but her presence alone in the corner of the little ramen shop is an endorsement in itself. Her body is covered in a slinky black cocktail dress that looks as if it would feel more at home at a gala than in a small, family-owned ramen shop. Alone at a table for two, she's in the process of adding an extra splash of soy sauce to the clean-tasting tonkotsu broth when she's visited by Mama Chang. The woman who owns the shop has stopped by to deliver a bit more of unsolicited relationship advice which is, to Talia, a necessary thing that one must endure to enjoy the best ramen that New York has to offer.

Still, she should probably add a footnote to the League of Shadow's ramen recommendation spreadsheet.

"Are you sure you're not waiting for anyone, dear? You look like you're dressed for a date!" Mama Chang says.

She's given a warm smile from Talia, who sets both of her chopsticks down on the top of her bowl and folds her hands neatly in her lap. That right leg is swung over her left, the toe of her high heel swishing back and forth in the air like the tip of a saber. Swish swish. Riposte and pirouette.

"I just believe in looking my best wherever I go. I assure you, I'm eating alone tonight," Talia says, and gives a glance around the shop. It's begun to fill up and pack in, which -might- be the real reason why Mama Chang has showed up. Talia's lips tug into a small frown, as if she can hear the question before it's asked. "No, I don't mind," she says.

"Hmmmm?" Mama Chang asks aloud.

"If someone else sits with me. It is getting quite full in here. I don't mind."

"Oh! Delightful!" chirps Mama Chang, who immediately moves towards where a certain SOMEONE has just sauntered in. Ostensibly. Maybe. (I'm talking about Danny Rand here)

Danny Rand has posed:
Danny Rand does /not/ believe in looking his best wherever he goes. His usual outfits either fall somewhere between homeless or homeless chic. Which side his ensembles land on is never on purpose. Unless he's dressing for a board meeting or a public function where he ends up kitted out to the nines. But that's always someone else's doing.

Still, he's very much Danny Rand and is always liable to brighten Mama Chang's day. He exchanges pleasantries and a short conversation with her in her native tongue and is ushered to fill the seat next to Talia, who he greets with a warm, almost too-genuine smile. "This place is the best, isn't it?" he asks the stranger, that naivete not weaking in the slightest.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Most spoiled, rich girls lack the finesse to pick out homeless chic against actual homeless. Talia al Ghul, on the other hand, knows money when she sees it. It's why she doesn't bristle when Danny Rand takes a seat across from her, and why he receives a polite (albeit a touch chilly) smile in return. She reaches for the chopsticks in front of her and daintily tucks them into place on her right hand. The tips are dipped into the broth where she gives a couple slow and lazy turns of those noodles within, watching how the soy sauce she'd added swirls throughout and colors that pale, near-brown broth a touch darker.

"Absolutely," she says. She has an accent, though it's difficult to place exactly where. It almost sounds like a mismatch of many different accents all at once. Flavors of Spanish, Middle Eastern, and even Asian all meld together like ingredients within a soup.

She doesn't take a bite, however. Instead, she turns her dark brown eyes up to Danny across from her. Her gaze is a wilting one. Not unfriendly, per say, but certainly piercing. There's a quiet sort of intensity to this woman, though, perhaps, Mr. Rand is entirely too earnest to detect it.

"I feel like I shouldn't eat until you get yours," she says, her left hand reaching up to touch the diamond-studdent pendant hanging just above her sternum. "It would be rude, no?"

Danny Rand has posed:
Rand makes his usual order of miso ramen and turns to look across at Talia. If he spies any hostility in her gaze, it doesn't show on his face. Which, more than likely means he didn't spy anything at all.

"No no, feel free," Danny says, lifting in hands in protest at the very notion of making her wait. "Mama Chang would hide me if she knew I made you eat her cooking cold," he says with a smile. "I'm Danny, by the way. Danny Rand," he offers by way of introduction, a little bow of his head accompanying it.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
"You're sure?" Talia asks, inclining her head delicately to the side. The gesture is accompanied not only by an upward inflection of her voice, but also a slip of that raven black hair from her cheek to her shoulder. It brushes along the thin straps that drape above her collarbone, each strand perfectly straight, thick, and voluminous. After receiving confirmation, Talia leans forward and pinches a halved egg with a jammy yolk between her chopsticks. She lifts it up and pops the entire thing into her mouth, covering her lips while she chews with the front of her palm.

When Danny introduces himself, she nods along and, only after she's finished chewing and swallowing, drops that hand away and turns her chopsticks towards her opposite palm. Danny Rand. Lost rich boy who turned up years later. A lot like Oliver Queen, really. And Bruce Wayne. How does this keep happening, anyway?

"Talia," she says simply. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Danny Rand."

Danny Rand has posed:
"And you, too, Talia," he says, warm smile not faltering for an instant. He sits back in his chair and rests his hands on his stomach, his eyes turning to the folks gathered in the restaurant. "This place always reminds me of home," he says wistfully. Whatever that means. He's from the Upper East Side. Must be another ramen shop up there.

Talia al Ghul has posed:
Danny Rand's smile is certainly a sunshiney one, and even Talia al Ghul is not entirely immune to the young man's boyish charm. She doesn't -look- much older than him. Her late twenties, perhaps early thirties. That's all thanks to the Lazarus Pit, however. One can see the age in her eyes, however. If one knows where to look. Still, there's a warm little laugh at his comment, and a careful leaning forward of her torso towards him. She's sending signals with her body, now. That language is open and receptive -- engaged.

"Ah, is that so? Did you grow up in a ramen shop? I would be hungry all the time, I think," she says. A bit of fermented bamboo is next to be picked up between her chopsticks, this bit blown on before being placed into her mouth. Again, she covers her hands while she chews. Elegance that borders on pageantry, despite the locale.