16344/Bit of Country in the Big City

Bit of Country in the Big City
Date of Scene:	15 November 2023
Location:	Hell's Kitchen
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Jennifer Kale, Remy LeBeau

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Jennifer Kale has posed:
Jennifer does NOT like being this far north. In the winter, she would prefer not to go north of Alpharetta, really. But there's been some major magical activity in the big city lately that's kept her here into the fall and start of winter.

The blonde is huddled under one of those cheap, mass produced puffy jackets that were popularized in the late 90s, early 00s. There's also a pair of dark blue cargo pants and a pair of ratty knock off Converse sneakers. One of those cheap hat and glove combos help keep her at least slightly warmer.

Her breath puffs out in front of her and she makes a face, "Tch. Ain't nobody meant to live in an icebox, dammit. Makes a body miss her swamp." She looks around to see if she can find somewhere appropriate to go, letting out a sigh. "Not even anywhere decent to eat. Leastways I got mama's gumbo pot. Time to hit the store, girl!"

She starts down the sidewalk, intent on hitting up the small Asian and Latin markets to pick up the appropriate items for the cookup.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
You know who else hates the cold? One Remy LeBeau.

He prefers the muggy, humid, soup kitchen of a swamp back home in Louisiana. Where a fella could sweat as much as most of these yuppy pricks drink in a day, just going out to get his mail.

He is likewise bundled up. You can always tell a Southerner in the big city cus they look like they're dressing for the Ice Age. Typical, he's wearing his long brown leather coat, but it's over a ratty black, thread worn sweater over an equally long t-shirt... and probably some long johns.

A pair of thick gortech cargo pants in unlaced combat boots. With a pucket hat over a wool beanie, with bits of his shaggy brown hair hanging out beneath the bottom seam.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of his trade, gloves are a no go, but he's flexing and unflexing his fingers to keep the blood pumping instead of stagnanting in his long digits. "I hate it here." He muses to nobody, drawing the temporary attention of some lady sitting on the bus beside him as it pulls up in Hell's Kitchen. Not terribly far from where Jennifer herself is headed into an Asian/Latin market.

His hands come up to blow warm breath between them, rubbing his palms as he starts towards theat same market. His intentions are to meet with the owner, a contact of his from years back, but... that's the nature of his business, innit?

Jennifer Kale has posed:
It's not hard to miss the 20-something blonde in the cheap, worn layers of clothing, also muttering about the cold as she stamps her feet to get some feeling back into them. Especially since she enters the market just ahead of him. Still, she grabs up a hand basket and plucks the gloves from her hands to shove into a coat pocket, blowing on her fingertips as she starts towards the meat counter.

"'Eyyyyyyyyyyy, Julio! Ya got that yardbird an' shrimp for me? An' don't try t' sell me on that pieced out bird. I want the whole thing. Plucked, 'headed, an' that's it." She flashes a grin towards the man behind the counter, rolling up in a gait that speaks of grace and athleticism.

Checking out the seasonings around the counter, she grabs up a few small jars that Remy might recognize as a typical Cajun seasoning blend.. particularly white pepper, cayenne, onion, paprika... someone's going to make gumbo! Julio brings out the chicken and shrimp, separately wrapped.. as well as a third package wrapped in brown paper that Remy's nose would recognize. Andouille. Here. In the city.

"Julio, yer the best. Next time yer at the club, come holla and I'll get ya a dance!" She takes the packages, tucking them into her basket, then turning, flashing a quick smile towards Remy as she heads to grab her produce and rice.

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy taps two fingers off his brow at Julio behind the counter, but he's headed towards the back of the shop with but a casual look at Jennifer as he passes. He doesn't bother hiding his eyes here, Red on black, but this is is New York. Who bats an eye at that.. or really anything? "Eh, you get da head cut off?" He asks with a grin on his stubbled face. "Best part is in da head... you leave dat soakin' in da pot for twelve hour and you got a nice base stock for da gumbo, ses pa?" Julio snorts and shakes his head at the Cajun. Clearly familiar enough with his antics that it's not even a surprise anymore.

"Where you from, you cookin' like dat? I usually pretty good wit dem accents, so... hold on, lemme see I can guess eh?" Hands in the deep pockets of his long coat, not necessarily invading on her conversation and personal space, but certainly sharing in it a little to peer down into her basket. "Mmm.. Florida. You from Florida, non? Got dat rollin' R twang 'round Ocala or Pensascola..."

Jennifer Kale has posed:
"I already got a bunch of stock made up, makin' more would just be a waste of space, and my gramma taught me to never waste food or space. Icebox is limited, yanow." Still, she's grinning at him, appreciating having another Southerner around, even if he's from Up North N'Awlins. "Sides, ain't got twelve hours to make stock jes' now. I need ta eat tonight. Need time fer th' gumbo to cook, the fat bread to bake. Still gotta hit up th' other market fer the gator tail. Julio's out an' next shipment ain't til... Tuesday, right, Julio?" At the nod, Jennifer nods back, "Yeah, Tuesday."

Laughing a little, she shakes her head, "Everglades. But good guess, Cajun. I can hear the N'Awlins all over ya. Good bayous. Great food." She holds a hand out to him, "Jennifer Kale. How much d'ya hate this weather, yeah? If I wanted to live in th' icebox, I got one in my kitchen, right?"

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Oh, so you cookin' in a hurry den." Remy puffs his bottom lip and nods, hands still in his pockets until she gives her name. "You makin' me hungry, what ya doin'. Know how long it been I had a good meal in dis god forsaken city, no offense Julio." 'None taken'. "It been a while.. few month maybe. Cooked up a shrimp boil for da kids back at da School where I 'teach'-" Does he, though? Does he Teach? "..."

"Jennifer Kale. I'm Remy LeBeau." Finally his hand comes out from a pocket, extending to take her's in a single shake. "I hate it a lot. No offense Julio." 'None taken', he repeats. As if this happens fairly frequently. "Aint even da cold, dat just one dem reasons, eh. Sooner Spring come da better. Dat or Imma head home for da winter. T'ink dem ducks got the right idea." His grin is easy, even bright. "You know, I know a guy get you gator tail pretty much any day ya wan'em. Runs a warehouse down by da docks, t'ings sort of fall'n off ships wind up dere." A shoulder bounces in a half hearted shrug, "Cheap'er den a shop, if ya don't mind the morality of a t'ing."

Jennifer Kale has posed:
"Yeah, I don't like havin' to rush it, but money's tight... can't always pick things up in advance, know how it is," Jennifer lifts a shrug and offers a lopsided, wry smile. Letting out a small laugh, she gives a nod, "Won't say sorry, cause I ain't.. but glad my cookin' can kick ya in the tastebuds before it's even cooked!" Then she's nodding agreement, "Tell me 'bout it. I ain't ate out at a decent place since I got here. It's all.. pizza an' fancy food. There's a dawg vendor, he down on 10th... his spicy dawgs are pretty legit."

"Nice t' meetcha Remy." She flicks a glance towards Julio, offering a quick grin to the man, then back to Remy. "Oh no, I hate the cold. Also the dry. It's SO dry here. Ya'd think, bein' surrounded by water, it'd be more... wet. I miss that blanket of air back home." She lifts a brow at his offer of cheap gator tail to order, considering it for a moment then nodding, "Well. Since we're practically cousins, tell ya what. Ya get me that gator tail, an' ya got yerself an invite to dinner. Got a peach cobbler coolin', to boot. Some good spiced vanilla ice cream." She flashes a grin, "We got a deal?"

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy whistles the tune from the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly when she mentions a cobbler cooling, "Okay, dats a deal." He shakes again with a smirk, glancing at Julio who just shakes his head, then back to Jennifer. "Aint it so. Da moisture in da air so thick ya gotta breath it wit a spoon.." There's a deep breath, patting his chest where his lungs are, "Help keep ya strong, if ya ask me."

Nobody ever does though.

Certainly nobody at the mansion.

Even Rogue, who's from Mississippi seems to prefer the chill of New York.

It's herasy.

"So how I get in contact wit you den? When I got ya gator tail, dat is, so I as I can come get good eatin' for a change." With a snap point, "I know dat vendor, by da way. He got a 'Cajun' dawg dat just got some dat ol bay seasonin' on it, but it about as Cajun as Hockey Player."

Jennifer Kale has posed:
"Drink yer air like a good Southern boy," Jennifer winks at him and grins broadly. Reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind one ear, she nods up at him, "I hear ya. Keep them lungs workin'. We take in more air wit' each breath." She snappoints at Julio, "He knows. He visits his brother in Miami ev'ry year, don'tcha, Julio?" He gives a nod and grin to her.

She holds out her hand at his question and grins, "Gimme yer phone, that's how. I'll put myself in there, then when ya call, I'll have yers, too." She lets out a laugh and shakes her head, "Ahhahhahaha.. ya fell fer his trap. See, ya can't ask fer the Cajun dawg. That's fer cityfolk. Ya gotta ask fer th' SPICY dawg. That's the one with the cayenne, garlic, an' smoked paprika. He'll even put it on a brioche bun, ya ask nice."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
The phone Remy pulls out is one of three, actually. Which he shuffles through until he finds the one he's looking for and holds it out to her to put her number in. "Miami?" A glance back at Julio, "Ya been holdin' out on me, mon ami? I t'ought we was close.. tsk tsk." Playfully admonishing, he looks back Jennifer and inclines his head.

"Dere it is, turns out I'm just a tourist. Ya t'ink after all dese years, I know better eh?" The grin doesn't slip from his face. "Dere is one place tho.. nice little bristol resteraunt on da East End. I aint sayin' it's da 'best' gumbo, but it's da best ya gonna find don't get cooked yourself. I have a deal wit da owner, ol friend of mine back from N'awlens. Helped him through culinary school, now he give us a good family discount. Tell'em Remy sent ya, he'll make sure da spice have ya eyes waterin'."

One of the other phones chirps, an older one. Likely a burner, prepay, and Remy rolls it over to check the numbers with a flash of his eyes. It disappears back in his coat, eyes back on Jennifer sans the temporary lapse in his general jovial to something serious when looking at that phone. "So ya mention club, dat some place you work?"

Jennifer Kale has posed:
Giving a small laugh as he shuffles through three phones, Jennifer takes the one that's offered, holding it up with a waggle and grin, "This the black book phone?" THen she's opening to contacts, adding her name, then turning it around and taking a picture of herself to put to the contact, winking into the camera with a knowing smile. Adding in her number, she saves the contact and hands the phone over with a chuckle. "Aw, don't be sore at Julio, it was his brother that told me to come to him for meat up here!"

Laughing at the comment, she lifts a shrug, "Maybe he holds out for the tourists like me, battin' our eyelashes an' askin' pretty please for somethin' with some *heat*." She hipbumps him and chuckles, then gives a nod, "I know the place, jes' ain't been able to afford the prices. I'll haveta take advantage of that next time I got some cash. Thanks for the tip!"

There's a brief glance of curiosity to the chirp of another phone, but she knows better than to pry into business that isn't hers. Well, sometimes. When she feels like being polite. Jennifer lets out a checkle and rubs the back of her neck, "Aw, ya heard that, huh? Ah.. yeah, sorta. Sugardaddy's? It's a 'gentleman's club'... which is jes' glorified fer strip club. Guess they gotta be all high class here, even in th' Kitchen."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
Remy glances up and smirks while shaking his head, "Not'ing like dat. One's for business, one's for online gamin', ones for talkin' to people." The latter he accepts back once Jennifer has added a picture to his contacts list. It disappear into his pocket with the other two. "Honestly, nobody use an analog brick phone nokia no more, but dey was reliable. Could almost use dem as a weapon." Pantomiming hitting someone with a heavy object.

"Mm.. Well, it worth it, but like almost anyt'ing in New York, ya pay new York prices..." A half shrug, one shoulder, peering sidelong at the produce she's picking for her dinner tonight.

Then she mentions working in a gentleman's club, "Nice. I use to do security for one back home in da old days. Mon ami ran it, tho. More a... hang out den anyt'ing." Mental note, "Sugardaddy's, ya say." Nodding again, "Never heard of da place, but it aint my usual haunts. Unless dere a gamblin' den down in the basement, anyways."

Jennifer Kale has posed:
Laughing while shaking her head, Jennifer can't help but grin at him, "Ain't y'all fancy. I jes' got the one, use it fer all three." She takes her time picking out her onions, bell peppers, and celery, making sure she's getting the best they have to offer. "I remember them phones.. usedta have one back in the day!"

She grabs both red and green bell peppers but only the ones with three bumps at the bottom never more never less, the onions are yellow, and the celery is firm with a good head of leaf. She picks out a good, fragrant head of garlic. And then she deliberates over the okra. Because you can't have gumbo without good okra. She smells them, squeezes them, puts a lot of them back, but in the end, she has a good 8 okra that go into a small bag then into the basket.

Jennifer straightens from her produce picking and turns to face him with a grin, "C'mon down sometime. It ain't so fancy as it sounds, but we put on a good show an' the prices ain't terrible fer bein' New York." Shaking her head, she chuckles, "Nah, no gamblin' that I know of, they like t'keep th' focus on th' girls. Which is good fer us. More money in my g-string, less in some bookie's pocket."

Remy LeBeau has posed:
"Eh, not so fancy." Remy repeats what she said when she calls him as such, grinning just so as she goes through the produce picking out her choices. Even making a few suggestions as if he's some kind of professional when it comes to okra. Which would make perfect sense, "Woo when I do my ol boil, I start wit some le-mon an' some salt. Hit it wit da fire once everyt'ing nice n' steamin'. Fifteen minutes, it'll change ya life."

Once again glancing down at his phone when it chirps one of those old digital ring tones. Something is sent, then the phone disappears again, never missing a beat in the conversation.

"It as fancy as ya want't to be, cherie. I live by da principle dat ya live da truth ya want for yourself. Besides, ya in a g-string, dat's pretty damn fancy." Shoulders rolling forward, "But I'm curious how a dancer aint got no money. I t'ought dats how ladies put dem'self through college?"