14873/Open Markets

Open Markets
Date of Scene:	08 May 2023
Location:	Chelsea Market
Synopsis:	Joel meets Yelena, they have BBQ.
Cast of Characters:	Joel Sterling, Yelena Belova

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Joel Sterling has posed:
Chelsea Markets, in south Midtown, is a variety of things clustered together. Food hall, shopping, offices, and even a television production facility. It's a whole city block. It's mid afternoon now, well past the lunch rush to the markets and food areas.

Finally released out of the television production area for MLB.com, Joel rides an escalator while de-escalating his attire. He'd had a tie on, a button-up black shirt over his more comfortable and easy tee under it. So while on the escalator, he's mildly daydreaming, while loosening the tie and pulling open the collared shirt to be relaxed and open at the neck. The tie is drawn back and forth over the tall man's long fingers, across the heavy callouses there, before he folds it and gets most of it into a back pocket as the escalator lets out into the market area, the loose ends hanging.

Yelena Belova has posed:
It's a lovely day! The sun is shining, the weather is turning towards the warm every day, and for the first time in a little while, it's NOT RAINING. At all. Only puffy white clouds dot the sky. So what does that mean for Yelena Belova?

The Black Widow is dressed completely in civilian attire; she's got a short skirt on, Doc Marten boots, a top that is midriff cut with a light jacket covering it. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun with wisps of hair falling around the sides, and her make-up screams 'less is more'.

And she's cracking her chewing gum... loudly as she slowly approaches the bottom of that down-escalator. Blue eyes are always looking, always sizing people up, even when she doesn't think about it, or realize she's doing it. It's as natural as breathing...

Joel is espied, his manner and mien.. fidgety-ish. Uncomfortable in suit and tie... so, dog and pony show. As the tie is shoved into a back pocket, Yelena tsks theatrically, her Russian accented words lilting lightly, "Do you know how many little silk caterpillars died so you could wear tie?"

Joel Sterling has posed:
Joel turns his head, with a startled look, as he's drawn out of whatever daydream he'd been having. It was mostly about what he might want to buy or eat in the food court-- but now, a pretty blonde is asking him a question. He doesn't fully sort out her accent right away, he's no linguist. Sounds foreign, though!

"...Do they die to spin silk? I didn't know that killed them," Joel answers, evenly. There's a thoughtfulness there, that is often confusing to some. Joel has an open quality - open to learning something new about silkworms. There isn't necessarily compassion for silkworms here, more that he's fine to go along with a learning experience!

Joel's eyes are a similar blue, but lack any attempt to size anyone up, just to take the world as what it offers, in a relaxed way. "How many?"

Yelena Belova has posed:
The smile that is pulled from the blonde Russian is one of humor, though it's not pointed AT him. Yelena pauses in her step and cants her head, looking at Joel for a long moment before she shakes her head. "I really do not know. I made it up. Sounded good, though, right?" Her words are set in a playful cadence, her tones easy as if it's the most natural thing to do, stop strangers and just talk to them. In New York City.

"Perhaps I will find out. One day. Is perfect conversation starter." The lilted, accented words continue, and she looks around, then back to Joel. "I totally get not wanting to wear tie. Is too hot, too ... tight for such nice day."

Joel Sterling has posed:
"I'm glad I wasn't wearing a fur tie. That would have a been an even more awkward conversation, then," Joel says, in a thoughtful way. It's a joke, of course, but there's no sarcasm edge in it or bite. "And a lot worse for me." For reasons beyond just animal cruelty. He's amused by the mental image of it, and his smile shows it, in a light way.

"But no. I'd wear jeans to interviews if it wasn't a job risk," Joel adds. He's still moving, but sort of slowly -- just aligning in that they were going in a similar direction, and he's open to random chat like this. Maybe it happens to him often, people just talking to him.

Yelena Belova has posed:
"Hah." The sound is a barked laugh, and Yelena drops be-ringed hands into her jacket pockets in a casual action. She takes the words as intended, and nods, the blonde wisps moving and framing and re-framing her face. "But very regal. Ermine? Is like weasel for royalty." There's a pause before adding, "Is true this time."

Yelena is more than ready to step into line, casually chatting as if she's known Joel all her life, or at least that's what it looks like, "Interviews? You interview or be interviewed? Or looking for job?" She's curious, and her head cants as she pays attention to both him and his answer. There's a pause before she makes her declaration, "I could see jeans in interview. Would look good because you would be more comfortable. That is what is important, right?"

Joel Sterling has posed:
"No, like, a full bear head. Right here," Joel describes his vision with a gesture to show as if he were some viking with a huge bear wrapped around his body, affixing with the head at shoulder. He's tall and has some weight to his body, he could be a good viking, really. Except probably too friendly, there's no ferocity in his gaze. He might ask nicely if people'd like to be pillaged today.

Joel is curious about this familiarity, as if they'd known each other ages, but this is something he does naturally too: just accept at face value and roll with it. "Oh, um." Joel clearly takes a moment to decide what he'll say. "No, I'm employed. Just sports talk. I'd rather just play than talk to them about it in a tie, that's all." He isn't trying to lie or conceal, this is more of a downplaying, or humility. A black widow would certainly know the difference. The man doesn't want big attention.

"Maybe so. But I think I can pretend to be comfortable for a few minutes, if it makes the agents happier." Probably not, Joel seems to wear everything right out and visibly.

There's a pause, then. "Joel," he says, with a movement of hand at himself, introductory. And then a quiet curious prompt to hear her name.

Yelena Belova has posed:
"Oooooh, bear head." Yelena shakes her head and pulls a hand out to put a finger to her lips in that 'shhh' gesture. "I have bear at home who lives with me. He would not like to hear about such things." Does she really? Pulling out her cell phone, just to //prove// she's not crazy, she does a quick finger-scroll through her pictures.. and there... there he is in all his alcoholic glory, Sovietsky bear.. with a hat festooned with a hammer and sickle emblem. And a bottle of vodka in prodigious paws. "I call him 'Uncle'. He is fine. Friendly enough, but will not mention a bear head and pelt." She doesn't sound put out about it, nor even changing the tenor and cadence of her accented words. Purely conversational.

Once the picture is seen, Yelena will put her phone away and once more, hands go back into pockets casually, her pace easily keeping stride. Going somewhere and nowhere all at the same time.

"Sports? Like what? Football? Baseball? I love baseball. Go .. Yankees?" The words have that pause as if the blonde is digging up a name that is so rarely spoken. "Basketball is too..." She shakes her head and looks ahead briefly before looking back, "Not fun to watch."

At the quick introduction, Yelena's smile grows once more and her head tilts, "Hello Joel. I am Yelena Belova. Is pleasure to meet you."

Joel Sterling has posed:
Joel doesn't know what to say about the picture of a //bear//, let alone one with a hat or beer or anything else. Joel assumes it's a stuffed bear (which... may be just as weird?), and is taken aback by the picture, light brows lifted. Huh.

"Some of my good friends are Yankees," is what Joel says, which suggests he isn't one himself, by tone. Like he's forgiving them for being Yankees, but in a nice enough way. "I've been with the Mets for..." Math is hard. "Five years, or so." Even if Yelena isn't sure what sport the Mets is, context would say baseball. He seems surprised. "Doesn't seem like that long."

But back to the introduction. "So the bear isn't here, is it? Home's... somewhere else?" He's not good at accents, and doesn't want to be offensive about the question, so this is diplomatic. He isn't confident in his ability to spot the difference between Russia and somewhere else in the same area. He's pretty sure she's not /French/...

Yelena Belova has posed:
Yelena laughs at the 'some of my good friends are Yankees' line, and she nods, understanding the underlying meaning of the words. At the identification of Mets, brows rise and she does at least seem to be aware that it is another baseball team. "I have seen a couple of games. Usually in bar, and have only learned by yelling at television." As sports bar customers are wont to do.

The path the pair take is somewhere and nowhere, not really, at least for her. She'd come down to pick something up for Mother's Day for a mother who really doesn't exist. But, it's a .. thing for her.

"No, bear is in Brooklyn. In my apartment. I do not have the heart to fly him back to Russia, so he stays with me." Yelena exhales in something of a theatric sigh before, "That reminds me. He asked for borscht tonight. Of all the lovely things in this city he could have... like, there is nice restaurant near here. Sushi is wonderful. Makes you forget you are eating raw fish, of all things."

Joel Sterling has posed:
"Well, I try not to give reason to be yelled at by bar patrons, but we don't always get what we want," Joel says finally, with a lift of shoulders and broad hands. His smile is simple, relaxed: he does the best he can, and that's all he can do. He doesn't strive to be yelled at or have altercations, though, no doubt.

"I like sushi okay. I don't have the refined pallete for it maybe. But I like trying things, foods from other places," Joel remarks conversationally. "New York is great for that. All kinds of people bringing their homes here."

Yelena Belova has posed:
Yelena tsks softly, "Bar fights are sometimes very fun." There's something of a dismissive shrug to her shoulders, but it's not dismissing //him//. Just, the thought in general. Still, it's not somewhere she lingers.

Instead, it's the musing of place to eat; one of the top topics of conversation that brings both visitors to the City and her natives together. The love of good food, wherever it may be found, be it street vendor or a Michelin Star restaurant. "If I wanted Russian food, I would go home and cook it." There's a pause before, "No, that is lie. I am horrible cook. I would make macaroni and cheese. From a box. But, if I wanted Mexican food, I would go to Mexico. I am in United States, and I want more American food. BBQ. Hot dogs boiled in dirty city water. French fries.." All the fattening, 'not good for you' food, of course!

"I know a good BBQ. If you want, or have time, Joel. I am sorry if I am keeping you from getting your blue jeans."

Joel Sterling has posed:
"No, I'm starving. They had us wait ages to fix some technical issues," Joel says, agreeable. That's likely his default mode - just sort of agreeable and open. It suggests a history of maybe just being under radar, flowing along: maybe not standing out as a child, always somewhere in the middle. Taken at face value without need to delve beyond it...

"Agh, I was on board until 'dirty hotdog water,' Joel says, his appetite impacted: but not for long. "I don't cook very often. My mother wouldn't be very happy about that, with all those lessons going to waste," Joel sighs. He does feel bad, maybe -- that he's busy, and doesn't have that time to do that, or honor those lessons. Or just aware of the distance from his family. All of it plays in his expression: there's no lie or filter to his emotional track.

"Where's this BBQ place? I'll just suffer not looking as great in dress pants." It's a fluid, light comment, that could be a flirt but without being heavyhanded or pushed. A test, maybe.

Yelena Belova has posed:
"You had cooking lessons?" Yelena's brows rise at the question, the smile easily returning to her features in full bloom. "Tsk," she teases ever so slightly, testing the waters just as he is. "I am certain she is fine with you being with Mets. Proud mother."

His reaction to her 'city water dogs' gains a barked laugh again, the sound a staccato, "It is delicacy. If I do not buy it on street, I can get it in baseball stadium."

Now, however, Yelena is more than happy to lead the way to good BBQ. "I will bring you. I promise, food is good so you will forget suffering. As for me, I do not suffer seeing you in suit, even without tie." And true to her word, Yelena does begin to wind and wend through the throng, making sure she's in pace with her new companion.

Joel Sterling has posed:
While Joel is long-legged, he isn't a fast walker, so it sort of evens out to 'efficient' without being pushy about speed. His pace set is pretty normal, without any loitering to look at stuff. He takes in the area without needing to linger and smell any roses. Still, she's the one leading, so that also adjusts that. He's big enough physically to just confidently move without as much winding; a jock perk that mostly others tend to give right of way, without him being even aware.

"Cooking lessons, yeah. Mostly boring things. Chicken pot pie. Meat loaf. I dunno." General American fare, sounds like. "Pro at salads." Pro baseball, pro salads.

"Good, a lack of suffering is a good start," Joel says, adjusting a tie that isn't there at his neck, smiling, and following to the BBQ.