2414/Werewolves and Warrior women on a food tour of NYC
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| Werewolves and Warrior women on a food tour of NYC | |
|---|---|
| Date of Scene: | 11 July 2020 |
| Location: | Location |
| Synopsis: | No description |
| Cast of Characters: | Wallace Wolf, Atlin
|
- Wallace Wolf has posed:
It was called a "The Amazonian Table", and if the local rags were to be believed the place served authentic Amazonian cuisine. Granted the place was run by some dude calling himself "Alecks-zander", and the photos of the chow looked dramatically more like poorly executed greek food than anything anyone back on Themyscira. It probably doesn't help that the guy is charging big bucks, and claiming to donate them to Amazonian charities.
The line outside the joint was long even before the sun went down, and it's hardly getting any shorter. Packed with "Influencer" types and delicate egoes desperate for someplace to be seen in. The crowd sort've spills out across the sidewalk, and coming to an abrupt stop at the Brownstone a certain bank robbing Wolf called home these days. The Dealership's glass windows decorated in brilliant gold leaf boar locked into an apparent war with an endless sea of Prius and generic SUVs. "Razorback Bikes" or so the Neon proclaimed, was of course a motorcycle dealership. The roll up bay doors in the front of the place however is only partially full of bikes being worked on, because theres BBQ afoot.
Theres technically been BBQ in the works for -hours- now, as it was smoked for a few hours early in the day before the pork roasts were carefully hand shredded, slathered in salt, Peppers and a few whole red onions before going back on the grill alongside sourdough buns and plain old hamburgers. A proper Southern cookout Menu, and attended apparently by a lone man.
It's a lovely three piece suit honestly, though he took off the jacket and rolled up those sleeves as soon as he got to attending to the cooking. Watching the cooking with a practiced eye, before chancing a glance at his watch. He might blend in easily enough in the finer parts of town dressed like that, if it wasn't for the Arkansas toothpick sheathed just behind his hip. That stacked leather handle terminating in a well worn brass crossguard. The sort've worn you don't get from opening boxes mind, more like the sort've chips and cuts you get from actually stopping an incoming blade.
- Atlin has posed:
Fakes of Amazon culture had seemingly continued to cross her path, apparently this food wasn't going to be a variation either. She'd doubted the creator had ever even heard of Bana Mighdall, and the given the creator was quite clearly male? It wasn't likely he was going to have even seen the island he supposedly was sharing the culinary secrets of.
It had taken quite a lot of effort not to call the man a chaletan and throw him out a nearby window, but she'd made promises enough to her contact after coming to the city to keep her violence down to a minimum as best she can. That didn't mean that she wasn't still hungry and mad as all hell. Making her way through the street, perhaps it was the hunger, or simply one of her more unnatural senses but it didn't really matter, regardless of the cause, Atlin's form came to a pause by the door as she passes by. Her frame wrapped in a simple long-coat over her Amazonian armored one-piece, the disappointment of missing out the the company of her own kind was still decidedly raw on her mind.
- Wallace Wolf has posed:
"I reckon that there grease pit didn't live up to expectations?"Theres not even a ghost of a hint to disguise that thick southern drawl, of course. Casually he glances yonder, before motioning towards a motorcycle lift he'd been using as a bench. "Well c'mon then darlin, have ya'lls self a seat and take a load off."Buns are plucked free just as they start to char, and set out to be stacked with a few burgers. The moment he pulls that pulled pork off he peels back the top of the tinfoil for a careful inspection.
The aroma is, well spectacular of course. "I ain't bout to turn away a pretty girl lookin for a meal, as long as you'll forgive the lack've cornbread."The food is plucked free carefully onto a mechanic's cart, before he covers the grill to let things burn out. "Ya'll have to excuse the decor of course, I ain't no resturaunt of course."
- Atlin has posed:
"It was a hall of false tales and lies," she speaks, the woman looking over the man addressing her and blinking for a moment. His invitation has her shrugging, but she wasn't going to refuse food while she hungered. Hosts were meant to be that gracious after all, or at least they were in her homeland. Folding her arms at her chest Atlin steps forwards, inhaling the scent of the offered meal.
"Cornbread?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow. "This is another of these 'New York Foods'?"
If accent alone didn't give it away, it was pretty clear the woman was far from a local.
- Wallace Wolf has posed:
"Not likely, Cornbread's a staple of southern cooking generally. I can't much get it up this far north, it's all too coarse and -way- too dry."He muses, snagging a neat blue speckled enamel plate to fill. A beautifully grilled burger stacked with a thick slab of tomato, and the central effort of course is the pulled pork. Piled high on a bun, and decorated with a liberal amount of particularly peppery BBQ sauce. A meal fit for any southern table, of course. In anycase he offers it over with a thin smile. "I ain't from round'ere neither darlin, I'm an Ozark boy from way back when."
"Where I'm from we take our hospitality seriously, so you just have yourself a seat and eat'cher fill."Snagging his own plate casually, before slumping down on the lift and giving his shoulders a slow roll. "I'm Wallace by the way, Wallace Wolf."
