48/Afternoon in Midtown

Afternoon in Midtown
Date of Scene:	20 February 2020
Location:	Midtown
Synopsis:	A god, a tycoon, and a space cop get attacked by harpies and then get to know one another.
Cast of Characters:	Alexander Aaron, Isabel Kane, Danny Rand

---

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I don't know man, I don't think it's a good idea." Alexander's voice is a little rough, tinged with doubt and no small touch of worry as he looks up... up up at the tall spire of St. Patrick's Cathedral there in Midtown on this quiet night.
    "What's not to know?" The other youth asks, frowning as he stuffs his hands deep into the pockets of his overstuffed winter jacket. The two young students standing there on the side of the road, small flakes of snow filtering down from on high, just the hint of another snowfall in the offing from that dark and grey sky.
    "I dunno, Tye. I mean, am I like even allowed to go in there?"
    "So you're a god. That's a god's house right? Should be ok."
    "I mean, sorta feels like, blasphemy? Or something."
    "Can't be, totally goes against the definition of blasphemy."
    "You sure about that?"
    "Positive."
    Yet as the two students stand there on the sidewalk, the world continues to flow along around them. A few people walking along the way. Traffic is light as vehicles went their slow way through the freshly fallen snow, the tires whispering with faint splashes as they roll through the newly forming slush and puddles.
    "Still," Alexander says, "Seems disrespectful."

Isabel Kane has posed:
The middle of winter is not really the best time for sightseeing in New York, and even if it were, early evening is not the best time for it either. On the other hand, a gentle snowfall and the sparkling lights of the city mean it isn't entirely terrible, either. The young woman walking up the sidewalk toward the pair is very definitely a tourist; she's looking at everything but where she's going, for a start, and she's got a heavy winter coat and a knitted hat that would not pass for fashionable among the locals. It wouldn't even pass for an attempt at fashionable.

A hint of wind sets the snowflakes in the air all aflutter, and makes the light dusting on the ground dance and shiver. The brunette in the knit hat is getting closer and closer, and she still hasn't noticed that there's someone up ahead who she's going to bump into if she isn't careful --

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Tell you what, I'll go ask the... monsignor? Deacon? Whoever is in charge? And see what he says."
    "Okay if you think that's smart, man." Alexander still manages to look pensive as he shifts his weight to his heels, hands still in the pockets of his peacoat and his backpack slung over his shoulder.
    To which Tye answers with a grin, "Hey. It's me." And with that he charges up the steps and through the front door of the great Cathedral. Which leaves young Alexander there looking up and up at the height of the church. And in turn has him turning around and to the side just then when abruptly...
    Enter Izzy!
    For most it would have been a collision of some intensity. A quick thump-thump-oof of contact that likely would have led to dropped items and staggered steps. But the blond youth with the bright hazel eyes manages to slip to the side just enough at the last second, hands light on Izzy's arms to perhaps brace and prevent the collision or an ensuing fall.
    "Oh hey, ack sorry!" Is the rushed response from the teen even as they almost thump into each other. And then he meets her eyes, grinning a little crookedly. "Oh uh, hey."

Isabel Kane has posed:
Well, at least they were probably both looking in the same direction: which is to say, up. Cathedrals aren't something you see a lot of in a midwestern farm town, and certainly not cathedrals that are this impressive. Luckily, one of them happened to look in the right direction at the right time, even if it wasn't Isabel.

The moment she feels pressure on her arms she skids to an immediate halt -- unfortunately a literal one, since the light snowfall has made the sidewalk a trifle slipperier than it would normally be. This makes her booted feet slide forward a couple of inches even after the rest of her has thinks she's stopped ... but at least it turns a hard collision into a gentle bump. "Oh!" the blue-eyed girl exclaims, stepping back hastily and therefore almost losing her balance again. "Sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going!" Which is surely obvious. And her accent, or lack of one, makes it clear she's not a local, either. "You all right?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The youth before her sort of half-grins, half-winces a little wide-eyed as she sort of skids a bit and he ducks a little low, shoulders hunching as if trying to lower his center of gravity to make sure he's stable enough to hold her up if needs be. But the hands on her arms are gentle, and once she is able to get a good amount of stability he nods along with her words, watching her lips for some reason and then looking back to her eyes as he nods again.
    "No, hey. It's okay." He takes a step back, hands still open though flared a little as if to show he's harmless. Then she steps away and he steps in again to try and help when she makes that slight jolt of an almost stumble again, but stops as shee recovers.
    Then to perhaps defuse the tension he smiles and adds, "Contrary to popular belief, not all New Yorkers will flip out if you bump into them." Though his own accent might surprisingly be similar to her own. Perhaps not a native New Yorker, likely a transplant at some point. "You okay?"
    But as the Fates would have it, one of the strings of life are drawn taut whenever such a connection is made. Across the street and upon the vibrant tree line so close to the park nearby, a bevy of wings flutter as large avians light upon branch after branch. Not enough to draw the curious glance from the casual walkers by. Perhaps a slight recognition as to their size being larger than normal. But beyond that utterly unremarkable.
    Until they seem to start whispering. Just a low susurrus of sound that might escape the attention of others with their attention focused elsewhere. Yet a whisper that carries with it a hint of malice.

Isabel Kane has posed:
"Fine, I'm fine," Isabel is quick to reply, even before she's really had time to do a proper inventory of herself to make sure that's the case. "Just clumsy." A slightly embarrassed smile. Maybe she's a college student? The age is about right. But walking around rubbernecking in February, when she's presumably been in town for at least a couple of months already? Doesn't quite fite.

Once she has her balance, and her presence of mind, back, she sticks out her hand. After all, when you almost run into someone the least you can do is to introduce yourself. "Thanks for, um, not flipping out, then. I'm Isabel. I'd say that'll teach me to look where I'm going, but if I haven't figured it out by now I don't think I ever will."

Oh, she might glance over toward the trees, and she might even catch a glimpse of the birds, but she's too absorbed in her Meet Cute to pay much attention. If she even knows what's normal for the birds hereabouts. Or, for that matter, if she knows what a Meet Cute is.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    If nothing else marked Isabel out as a newcomer to town, then that right there would. She might be able to get the read on that 'thing that is simply not done' by the mild incredulity on Alexander's features as he cocks one eyebrow upwards as if trying to figure out if she's for real. But quick on the heels of that expression is a surrender to the curiousness of it as the blond youth's other eyebrow joins the first as he just accepts it and then takes her hand.
    "Alexander." He offers, lip twisting up a little. "Or, you know, Alex." The handshake is firm and warm, three quick pumps and then done as he then looks around, perhaps again looking for some insight into the curious.
    "I uh, suppose nobody has had the talk with you about the whole..." He lifts a hand and his eyes upwards swirling a fingertip around as if he were stirring a pot upside down, "Looking like... you know, you're new to town?"
    Of course the whispering grows a little louder as he's speaking. Loud enough that it makes him frown and look around. Then in the direction of the trees. His eyes distance. "Hnh." He says, succinctly.

Danny Rand has posed:
Walking alongside the street, depending on if anybody would even bother to recognize him, is Danny Rand. C.E.O of Rand Enterprises. What in the hell is a guy like him just wandering on the streets for? Maybe he's out looking for trouble. But he notices Alex and Isabel apparently having a bit of a time and he approaches them.

"Hey, everything good over here?"

Because everything seems innocent unless you go ahead and approach. Thankfully, Danny has an open mind so he's not going into this thinking there's a problem, but rather just making sure two people are okay.

Isabel Kane has posed:
She's not a local, but she's also not a complete idiot, so she deduces pretty quickly that she did something wrong, even if she can't quite figure out what it was. She has a firm handshake, but nothing unusual, and she's perfectly content to let it be brief and then move on to the more interesting parts of social interation. "Nice to meet you. Um, no? 'Cause, well, I *am* new to town, so ... isn't it reasonable that I look like it?" Some of the mysteries of social interaction are clearly still, well, mysteries.

She glances over toward Danny as he approaches -- not a hint of recognition in her eyes, since the only time she's ever seen a Fortune magazine is ... actually, she probably never has. "I think so?" she says in reply, although there's a little uncertainty in her tone now, not least because of how Alex is reacting. Her gaze follows his over toward the trees. "Or is it?" she second-guesses herself.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    As Danny approaches he's not alone, considering the rough /thump!/ of the door from above and the quick tak-tak-tak-tak of Tye's boots as he runs and hops down the steps, almost slipping on the bottom one while he rushes on over.
    "Hey!" He starts to address Alexander, only then realizing that Alex is not alone, and in fact has two folks there. "Oh hey." And then to Danny. "Hey?" Which causes confused glances all around even as the young Olympian smiles, then looks over at Danny. "Heya, we're good. She just almost had a..."
    And that is when the first shouting cry comes from across the way. The large birds with their twisted maws opening, almost human-like features save for the wickedly curved beak. They seem to manifest partially, drawn forth as if smoke were poured forth upon the frames of large crows and then molded by hand into the shape of some nightmare.
    "What the?" Tye asks, even as suddenly the birds leap from their perches on those trees across the way and slice across the distance. Flying straight at the gaggle of people there near the late night steps of the Cathedral, their maws flashing as they slice across poor Tye's shoulder with a blur of fuzz slashed into the air, causing him to wince and stumble.
    "The hell?!"

Danny Rand has posed:
Danny nods slightly to the lady, who's opinion he was probably the most worried about. But at least everything seems totally fine. Nothing could possibly go wrong here, nope not at all. Now imagine his surprise when suddenly, there's a loud screeching sound as large bird-like things descend from the sky and start their attack!

"What the hell?" Danny asks nobody in particular. He's seen some shit, hell he's killed a dragon for crying out loud, but these? Well, these things were new. "Anybody want to fill me in here?" He gets a move on, attempting to kick one of the birds out of the air with a leap and a shout, similar to that of a kung-fu fighter's shout.

Bruce Lee would be proud.

"Because uh, this isn't normal!"

Isabel Kane has posed:
Isabel hadn't seen Tye previously -- her attention had been elsewhere -- so she swivels toward him when she hears his voice. Alex appears to know who he is, though, so he's (she guesses) not about to try to rob any of them. Which is, after all, a thing you hear a lot about people in New York when you're coming here from the midwest. She gives him a fleeting smile and then --

Well. She's still turning back toward the trees, but the sudden shrieking of the birds as they swoop across toward the foursome definitely makes her do so a little faster. Fortunately, tourist as she might be, her reflexes are good: she throws herself to the sidewalk to avoid an oncoming murdercrow. It's anyone's guess as to why she's suddenly yanking off her gloves and trying to dig something out of the pocket of her winter coat, though. Maybe she committed a dreadful error and brought a gun with her!

"I wish I knew!" is all she has offer in response to Danny's question, and she's starting to add: "Stay dow--" when the fellow she just met is in midair going full Mortal Kombat on a homicidal crow creature.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The creatures are intent on flying and rending and rushing, their talons thrust forth and their 'beaks' within their human countenance seem ready to tear. They flash past, a blur of smoke and feathers, sizzling where they make contact with subtly glowing ember-like talons. Little awareness is there seemingly, yet they say things over and over in those whispered tones, hard to make out. Though Greek if recognized by those there, in rolling accented monstrous voices.
    <<Parádosi, gios tou Ares.>>
    Tyler takes a hint from Izzy and dives to the ground, trying to stay out of the way of the Murder Crows, and to his credit he tries to hold a hand over her as if protecting her. While Alexander steps back and puts himself in the path of the creatures, standing before both Tyler and Isabel with his hands raised. And even while Danny is so perfectly leaping up, spinning and shattering one of the smoke creatures into pieces with a well-executed kick, Alexander lashes out with a short sharp jab that renders one of the critters into a puff of feathers.
    Though even as this happens, the young Olympian clearly notices Danny's exceptionalism and he says, "Hey you're really good!" But then he smashes another crow in the overly human face with a sharp right cross that sends it to the ground, skittering.

Danny Rand has posed:
Boom! One of them bites the dust. Though Danny wasn't expecting that they would literally shatter from the kick, like they had no substance to them at all. "Is this a work of magic?" He murmurs to himself, for he had no knowledge whatsoever about these creatures. But thats the Iron Fist for you! He looks over at Alexander. "Hah, your one to talk man! Where'd you learn?" not that Alex would tell him the truth, or Danny, but hey, life happens.

"What did it say?" Danny tilts his head, apparently not understanding the language that they speak. Not that he's expecting others to understand it, considering the circumstances, but its always okay to ask right?

He manages to try and punch another one out of the sky after a quick recovery, but immediately after this attempt, he looks at Isabel. "You good, lady?!"

Isabel Kane has posed:
Unfortunately, Isabel speaks about as much Greek as she does Welsh, which is to say: none whatsoever. She might correctly interpret the 'Ares' part but the pronounciation is probably nothing like the way English speakers expect, so even that would be a stretch.

One bird swoops over her head, narrowly missing taking a chunk out of her scalp. Alas, she's too preoccupied to be more than cursorily aware of the display of martial arts expertise going on around her, which is a shame, because it's something you usually have to pay for: either with money, or with getting your butt kicked by the person putting it on.

But it does buy her enough time to find the goggles hiding in her pocket and pull them down over her eyes. Straps unfold from them like some mechanical alien spider, clamping around her head. Targeting displays illuminate the inside of her lenses. ALERT ALERT ALERT ALERT flashes on the HUD as a second bird arrows toward her. And then it's erased by a scarlet energy beam stabbing out from her eyes. Hopefully she's not related to that one X-guy who does that.

"Feeling better already," is how she chooses to answer Danny's question.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Whoa," Alexander's voice is heard as that scarlet beam lances out from Isabel. He casts his gaze at her sidelong briefly in that moment of conflict, but then...
    As quick as they set upon the quartet of people, the crow harpies blur past, flying upwards and around that great old cathedral, seeming to swirl around the spire and then slash across the skyline. One moment all is chaos and mayhem, and the next. Quiet.
    Or relative quiet as one can get in Manhattan.
    Yet Alexander is still on edge, Tyler is still on the ground, and the two students give a look at each other. Before the blond haired kid says in response to Iron Fist's question. "It's umm," There's a pause as he ponders which of the martial artists' questions to answer, and instead settles on the easiest one. "I think they said something about Ares." As if he didn't know.
    He looks at Tyler and asks, "You ok to get home, man?"
    "Yeah I uhhh, yeah. Subway stop, gonna. Yeah. Over there." Tyler pulls himself to his feet and will even offer to help Isabel should she so need it. But Alexander frowns to himself. "I'm uhhh..." He sort of half hops and retreats a few steps.
    "I'm gonna see if I can find where they went."
    "Okay man, be careful!" But Tyler... he does not look happy. Not at all.
    Alexander then turns and breaks into a run.

Isabel Kane has posed:
"Ares?" Isabel echoes. She still hasn't got up off the ground, either, although she's at least a little better able to deal with the situation now. Alien technology is good for that! Some might argue that intensive kung-fu training is even better, and those people might not be wrong. "Like, the Greek fella? Angry a lot? Got a NASA transport named after him?" Okay, so she knows a little bit about Greek myth, at least in the context of space.

She's levering herself back to her feet when Tye offers her a hand up, which she gladly accepts, and, once she's there, spends a moment brushing snow and dirt from her clothes. She doesn't take the red-lensed goggles off, either, despite they being -- well, a little odd. And when Alexander starts to get uncomfortable, she starts to frown a little. "Now wait just a minute," she says, "you can't be going off after those things on your --"

Oops. She's talking to the air. This won't do, not at all, and so she takes off after him. This doesn't go so well, because it's snowy and slippery and also because sometimes one gets too focused on the strength and the invulnerablity and forgets about the speed. So about halfway down the block she /literally/ takes off after him. Beware of low-flying Iowans.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The youth in flight does not notice the young woman in the more literal flight. As he is rushing, running, skidding around the corner of the street and hopping over a bank of trash cans with a smoothness of motion and a nimble ease that might surprise her. He spins around that corner, into the alleyway even as she first takes flight.
    For a brief moment she might lose him as he makes that round. Then she's in the alleyway as well and he's not there on an easy sightline. Not at first until she looks a little up and further down the way. He must have planted a foot on that dumpster and then leapt for that fire escape. As he's now rushing up and over the large concrete lip of the three story apartment building he just scaled. Parkour, perhaps. But there is an organic ease to his motion, and a natural grace.
    And if she's able to maintain she might espy him there skidding to a halt at the edge of that building, breathing deeply and steadily, controlled and measured as he stands there, backpack on his shoulder and his peacoat opened to the elements. The youth's head is tilted to the side as he looks one way, then the other.
    Then she'll hear his voice again as she draws closer. "Great. This stinks." To himself most likely. For the crows are nowhere to be seen.

Isabel Kane has posed:
When she's on the ground, Isabel is -- well, she's not /clumsy/; she moves well and easily, or, at least, she would if she weren't on the narrow edge of slipping and falling the whole time. But she's certainly not so smooth, so assured, so effortless as the young man she's pursuing. Only when her feet come up off the ground goes she become somewhat comparable, and that's hardly fair, is it?

Flight in the city is of necessity a tricky business, what with neon signs to duck and wires to avoid and other obstacles to going much faster than a really good quick runner on foot. His elusive vertical motions stump her for a moment or three, until the red lenses click and whirr smoothly, zooming in on prints left in the snow, showing subtle differences in pressure and angle of departure that draw her gaze upward again.

Gliding silently up through the air, she settles down onto a spot at the building's edge, a few yards down from where he came to a stop, still incongruously clad in her Carhartt winter coat. "What does?" she asks, sounding pleasant enough. "I didn't see where they went after they left the cathedral." Here's hoping he's not too jumpy!

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    There's no reaction from him at first, or rather not one that she could perhaps discern beyond his general dissatisfaction with the situation. He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, the sleeve of his heavy coat riding up a little as his fingers dig in and he grimaces. But then he tilts his head to the side and shifts that hazel-eyed gaze to her, taking a moment to look down, then up to the goggles, then a small smile.
    "Hey."
    A glance back to the skyline and she might be able to just see the subtle way he focuses, his mind roiling through possible scenarios or distant thoughts. Then he takes a deep breath, seemingly resigned to what role Fate has cast for him. The snow and sludge crackles under his shoe as he turns to face her. "So that was weird, huh?" Understatement.
    Then he gives her a nod, "Are you umm," One hand lifts to indicate her as he searches for the words, then settles on. "Okay? Hurt? Those things didn't..." His sentence trails off.

Isabel Kane has posed:
Isabel's head turns smoothly from side to side while her goggles zoom in on whatever airborne targets present themselves. Information entered into an alien database by long-dead soldiers scrolls past her field of view: tracking algorithms, maneuverability analyses, flight-path projections and flight-radius estimates. All of it calibrated for species on other planets that may or may not bear any resemblence whatsoever to the creatures she's trying to locate, which may be why most of it goes ignored.

"Oh, I don't know," she says, trying to affect a light, worldly tone (she's lousy at it). "I figured this was the kind of thing that happens all the time in New York. Don't tell me it's just as weird for you as it is for me?" But she /is/ smiling a little, despite her slightly distracted air.

The question takes her by surprise. "Me? No, just my pride's wounded. Didn't occur to me I might get dive-bombed and I was slow to get prepared. Didn't seem like they gave you too much trouble, either." It's half a question, half a statement.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "To be fair, New York is pretty weird." He offers, nodding slowly. "But despite all the stories this stuff doesn't happen every day." Maybe every week. He crinkles his nose and takes a step or two to the side, hands coming together on the buttons of his coat as he starts to close it back up, hiding the 'RAMONES' logo of his black t-shirt, and then sweeping one hand over the front of the jacket to get some of the snow off.
    But when she mentions her wounded pride he sort of gets a lop-sided smile, starting to walk back toward the fire escape and the way he came up. But he's none too hurried in his pace as he glances sidelong, "So. You can fly, huh?" He waits a brief second before he adds, "And laser beams."
    For a time those words hang there with a pregnant pause as he holds his thoughts and passes such judgment upon her with but one word as he finally murmurs.
    "Cool." His smile is warm as he speaks it.

Isabel Kane has posed:
"Just every other day?" Isabel jokes. Well, she thinks she's joking. The joke may well turn out to be on her. Although she flies, she seems to prefer being on the ground, or, well. On the building, in this case. She's still got her little knitted hat in one hand, but fortunately her brown hair is long enough to keep her ears from getting /too/ frozen while she's out in the cold like this.

His assessment of her gets a bit of a rueful look. "I ... can do some things," she agrees, not going into too much detail at the moment. "The funny thing is, once I could, everything got so much /more/ complex than it used to be." But she's evidently at least a little relieved that his assessment is positive, rather than ... not.

"And what about you, huh?" she counters, humor in her voice. "They don't teach that kind of stuff in high school. At least, not in Iowa. I'm nobody's idea of an expert, but I know enough to know when I'm seeing someone who is."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The youth's eyebrows lift expressively at her first few words, as if she wasn't far off the mark about the frequency, but his smile might allay any worries as he murmurs. "Really, it's not that bad just..." He stops by the ladder, one hand upon the wrought-iron railing as he kicks snow off his shoes at the small half-wall that borders between the rooftop and empty space. "Sometimes weirdness follows me home."
    At that his eyes shine with amusement as he gestures at her, but perhaps more pointedly at her goggles. "Case in point." Did he just call her weird. What a jerk.
    But then he hops over the side of that wall and into the metal basket of that emergency stairwell down the side of the building.
    Beginning the descent he doesn't stop talking, however. Over his shoulder he tells her with a wry smile. "I'm okay." Modesty maybe. "But did you see that guy? He was the real deal." The metal clinks and clanks as he hits the steps, then he sliiides down the slippery metal and chrome bannister until he hits the first floor basket. One hand catches the rail and he hops over and...
    //THUMP!//
    He's on the ground, landing in a crouch and then straightening up to wave at her, "So. Ok. First off..." He waits til she's perhaps a little closer. "I will give you all my sekrit New York Tips and Tricks. Okay? And then maybe while we get something to drink you can tell me all your cool things. Deal?"

Isabel Kane has posed:
She's not, apparently, offended by being called weird, if indeed that's what he just did. On the contrary, Isabel's rather relaxed about it, and she says, with understated humor, "Imagine how /I/ felt. They followed /me/ home, and it's an awful lot weirder to have it follow you home to a cornfield than to follow you home to ..." She gestures with one hand, a broad sweeping motion to take in the whole city at once. "Well, to here."

Rather than fly down to the ground, she drops into the fire escape as well, climbing down after him. "Oh, he was really, really good," she admits without hesitation, "what I saw of him, anyway. But I'm not blind, I can see two things at once." The brunette's in no hurry, going down a step at a time, being careful not to slip despite the fact that it probably wouldn't be a disaster if she did.

Once she's on the ground she touches something on the goggles that causes them to unstrap themelves; rather than pocket them again, though, she pulls them down to loop around her neck and make her look all steampunk. "All of them? I don't know if we have enough time for that. But otherwise that sounds okay. D'you have any notion where those things might have got off to?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    His smile remains as she speaks and he follows along, features expressively in support of her ruminations on weirdness. Then he nods again at the statement of her being able to see several things at once.
    There's something about Alexander as he looks to her, biting his lower lip while standing in that alleyway. The snow continues to fall off over at the mouth, and there's still the slow drift of cars driving through the slush. It's all lights and activity and no small amount of chaos in the background, but there she can tell he's fully focused on her, his blue-green eyes leveled with her own. Some sort of decision is made, and he takes a deep breath before saying.
    "Do you believe in Fate?" Her own question apparently forgotten, or ignored, as he just bulldozes over it with his own thing. "I mean, like, as a palpable thing. Not like, a pick up line." At that last his lip curls up and it's only then that he starts to walk down the alley and back for them to rejoin the world and the pulse of the city.
    "Cuz I sort of do. I've met them. They're really moody. But thing is, they're also... family. In a way. And I think those critters, were from my uncle." There, he answers her, but in a roundabout way.

Isabel Kane has posed:
The brunette has a bit of ... ease about her. A lack of hurry, a willingness to let life come to her, a willingness to stand quietly and watch the snow fall and be fascinated by the patterns it falls in and the way it settles onto the sidewalk and the parked cars. And then listen to, and answer, questions, however peculiar they might be.

She turns back toward him, questions behind her blue eyes that are pushed down for the time being. "I don't know exactly how you mean that," she says, hedging a little, "but if it's what I think, then I guess I do. Sometimes things are just the way they are because they're supposed to be that way, and you can pick your own motivating force for the reason, I guess."

She follows him down toward the mouth of the alley, tall and leggy enough to keep pace without having to hustle. "Well, family can definitely put some surprises in your path," she says. "Do you think he's going to try again? And if he does, is it going to be something worse?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The relative quiet is nice there in the alley, and once they step out onto the sidewalk the world is still a touch muffled by the freshly fallen snow. Not enough to demand attention, only enough to present that subtle dusting that drifts and sways with the wind, or is caught up in the drift of a car rolling by, sending it swirling like a miniature twister in the air for singular moments. And Alexander seems at ease with it, unmindful perhaps to the beauty of it all as it paints the world with that faint sheen of white.
    "I think..." Alexander walks, hands deep into the pockets of his coat, "That when he does something like this, he's usually sending a message." He exhales a deep breath, eyes distanced with a hint of worry, before he looks again at her sidelong. "And I should probably call him."
    Such a simple solution to a curious problem. "Ok so, here's tip number one, Isabel." He walks along and then tilts his head sideways at her, as if giving her a hard time. Which he is. "Don't walk around with your head tilted back all looking like a tourist. You mark yourself as a potential victim for all the con guys and button men and pick pockets and whatever else."
    He strolls along, sneakers kicking up bits of snow, "Tip number two, don't run into people cuz lots of them aren't as nice as me." His tone is wry, but gently so.

Isabel Kane has posed:
She puts her hat back on once they're out on the street again, and little jewel-like flakes of white drift down onto it out of the sky. And, listening closely, she frowns a little at his explanation of what may be going on.

"Normally I'd say not to reward this kind of behavior by doing what the person sending it wants," she says. "But ... if he might try this same sort of thing again, or escalate, maybe it would be a good idea to, um, humor him. So to speak. But maybe not too quickly, or he'll think he's getting on your nerves." Someone has spent time dealing with boys (or girls) who try to get attention by being obnoxious! Which is most of them, at one time or another.

His advice makes her laugh, and duck her head a little with embarrassment. "Consider me chastened," she says. "On both counts. People here don't really say 'button men', though, do they? I thought that was just in gangster movies."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Hey." Alexander says as he gives her a /look/, "Button man is a cool phrase. It's all... steely and glinty eyed and noir and all that." Since gangsters have always sort of appealed to him on some level. But his smile shifts more easily wide as they walk, though he does reach over and adjusts his backpack a bit, hooking a thumb under the strap.
    "But. It is a term that means like, guy who is responsible for what you choose him to be responsible for from day to day. I'm totally bringing it back into common use." Much luck he has had with that.
    "There," He stops strolling as they reach a particular spot on the sidewalk, near a corner but not quite, perhaps daring to propose they jaywalk as he lifts himself up on his tip toes as if trying to espy beyond a few of the vehicles that are rolling past. "Over on the corner. Gutierrez's Grill. It's good, nice barbecue and horchatta."
    He lowers himself down and then tells her oh so presumptuously. "You're totally paying." Though he keeps an eye on her reaction to that, as if to see if she might be in the city and be in trouble, which is a too common thing for new out-of-towners. But it's that first flash of her reaction to that sentiment he's gauging. He quickly follows it up with.
    "I mean, actually. I should pay. Since it was my fault you had to duck and cover. You can catch next time. Cool?"
    And with that said he grins and sees an opening in the traffic, then proceeds to beat feet across the street.

Isabel Kane has posed:
"It is a very cool and steely and noir phrase," Isabel has to admit, her own eyes -- the not steely sort -- twinkling. "I can't say I thought it'd still be in style, though. Or is it like those awful fashions from the '80s that I've started seeing again, where it's so old that it qualifies as retro and cool again?"

Not that she'd know either way. When they reach the corner, she peers across the street to follow his gaze, although she probably can't see, and certainly wouldn't recognize the place if she could. "Okay," she says, comfortably. "It's all new to me, so I don't mind starting with whatever you like. As long as there's a place to sit, that's good enough for me."

Hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, she laughs, and nods, at his invitation for her to pay. Not alarmed, not obviously thrilled by the idea. "We could go half and half," she offers as a compromise. "I don't mind, though, not really. Unless you're secretly taking me somewhere where the prices are all sky-high. Then I might mind a little." Either way, she follows him across the street -- most of the time, flying is just a really good way to draw attention to yourself.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Oh nah, it's kinda towny." Alexander says, though with Manhattan can a place really be called that? Yet he doesn't seem to mind as he agrees with a point of a finger in her direction, "But Dutch it is." Another term that's out of use as well, for whatever reason. Then it's across the street quickly, footsteps precisely placed around the slush that's accumulating on the streets. And at the gutter he hops over it, landing a little precariously on a bit of ice, then turning back toward her.
    "So, magic goggles?" He asks as he rests a hand on a newspaper box for some local community coupon rag. Should she cross the way near him he'll extend a hand out to offer help should she need it, but not trying to look like he figures she'll /need/ it need it.
    "That seems like it could be kinda cool."

Isabel Kane has posed:
Luckily the midwestern girl is out of touch enough herself that old-fashioned expressions -- while they may be a surprise -- don't faze her too much. At least, some of them don't. The ones that aren't *too* old-fashioned. Good luck with Victorian-era Cockney slang! Her boots are sturdy enough that she's willing to walk through the slush rather than around it, so she goes tromping across the pavement without any particular grace or elegance. Doesn't show any sign of needing a hand, but this is in line with her overall self-presentation.

A quick shake of her head: "Not magic! Science goggles. Then again, sufficiently advanced technology. And I think these probably qualify as that," Isabel admits. "Actually ... I'm not totally sure what *would* qualify, if not these."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The young man's lip twists up, amused for a moment as he then adds to the tail end of her words, "So magic goggles with a Heinleinian twist?" And then it's back onto the sidewalk where he crosses the small stretch of walkway and to the front door of the BBQ place. Which is what some colloquially would call a hole in the wall, what with its small sign just declaring a simple message of 'FOOD' and in the mostly soaped over windows the only signage also advertises an availability for 'PEPSI' with an ad slogan from a few decades back about the new generation.
    Though the health rating is A at least, so there's that.
    But with the jangle of the doorbell ringing, as soon as they enter they're greeted with a family of dark complexioned people calling out from various places in the restaurant. A variety of 'Hellos!' and 'Welcome!' as they're waved towards one of the empty tables.
    So it's to a booth he goes, sliding into the seat and pulling off his coat a bit zealously. It's set to the side. But what's his next action when he gets there? He takes a small flip card from the napkin holder that has a red and a green side, then flips it to the green side and sets it out in a place of prominence on the table.
    "Alright. You ever been to a Brazilian barbecue thing?"

Isabel Kane has posed:
"Clarkeian," Isabel corrects at once, although she's smiling when she says it. "Can't think what a Heinleinian twist would be. Maybe if it allowed me to go back in time and fall in love with my own father?" NERD!
She follows him up to the door with evident curiosity, peeking through any clear spots in the windows to get a look, and then inside, waving and calling "Hello!" in return to their new hosts. "You're kidding, right?" she asks as she slides into the booth opposite him, unbuttoning her coat -- underneath she has a plaid flannel shirt on. "Where I grew up we didn't even have an *American* barbecue place." It's not entirely clear if she's being sincere or being self-deprecating. Or maybe both.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Clarkeian!" Alexander's eyes widen and there might even be a small flush of color to his cheeks. "I mean, of course I totally knew that. I was just testing you." Though as he says that his smile is wry, clearly accepting the faux pas as his own. It's there in the twinkle of his eyes and the crinkle of his nose.
    Then he gestures, "Ok so, tip number two? Or is it three? Brazilian BBQ. You go in, look all cool, sit down. And then you usually have like a card or some kind of stick or something with red or green, or yes please or no thank you written on it." He uncurls a hand toward her, "You sit down and..."
    The waitress comes over and asks, "Something to drink while you guys wait?"
    "Hey, yeah, thanks Ellie. Umm, just a soda?"
    She nods and looks toward Isabel, awaiting her drink order. Once that's squared she's off again and Alex continues.
    "And you basically signal with the card or doodad, that yes you want food and... they bring it to you. Stacks and stacks of stuff. All sorts of things. And a salad at first usually. It's super good, affordable, and quick."

Isabel Kane has posed:
Her eyes are twinkling as well. She's clearly not going to give up so easily on this opportunity to tease him. A little. "'Course you did. You just wanted to make sure I wasn't some kind of poser." Alas, she does not know how to pronounce 'poseur' properly, so the effect is not all it could be. Plus, she's just handed him something to tease her right back with, should he wish to.

"I think this is three. Two was not to run into people, which is good advice," Isabel says. She smiles at the waitress, saying, "Hi. D'you have iced tea? That'd be just the thing." Well, now that they're inside, it's a little less silly to ask for this in the middle of February.

Once she's departed, the brunette resumes listening to Alex. "Okay, that sounds pretty straightforward. So, green as long as you're hungry, red when you're full. Won't be too easy to mix that up, I guess."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "So three," Alexander says, but does not tease her immediately back about the poseur thing. Though undoubtedly it is stored away for future comeuppance! He settles back into the booth, one foot lifting to rest upon the edge of the seat so he can lean a little on his knee. "And there you have it, all the tips you need to survive New York. Don't look up. Don't run into people. Eat barbecue."
    He lets his eyes drift to the side, roaming the austere decor with its utilitarian look to it. Then back to her, "Normally I'd charge like, tons of money for that advice. But I'm feeling nice today." That casual pantomime is engaged in, enjoying her company as he chews his lower lip for a moment before he shifts topics a little.
    "So uh, what's your story?"

Isabel Kane has posed:
Her smile acquires a slight wistfulness. "I'm sure it's good advice," she says, "but I think I've already spent too much time not looking up. If you don't look up, you can't see the stars." But she brightens up again a moment later, fortunately. "I guess as long as I don't do it where anyone else can see me, I ought to be all right. And that's not too much of a problem." Yeah, if you can fly you can probably find plenty of spots where no one can see you.

She still hasn't internalized the idea of not looking like a tourist, though, as seen from the way she keeps looking all over at things she hasn't seen before, and may not ever have seen anything /like/ before. "I'll have to find a way to pay you back one of these days," she says. "If you ever need to go to Iowa, I'm your girl for advice there." His question brings her up short. "Ah. Um. You know, I don't have the least idea how to answer that."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Hey, you don't have to." Alexander's head tilts slightly as he observes her. It may not seem like he is, but he is gauging her. Considering not just her responses but the timing of them, the subtle tell-tale hints of body language, subtle shifts in her expression. Not an active conscious thing he does, more just one of the aspects he has picked up living as an Olympian and the son of his father.
    "I mean, a person's story is their own. And sometimes it has secrets." His lip twists up a little, "I mean. I sorta can commiserate."
    Their drinks arrive then and he pulls his soda over, leaving it untouched for the moment save for him taking the end of the straw's wrapper off of it and balling it up between two fingertips.
    "I mean I'd be grumpy if someone just wandered over and said, 'Hey, Alex, tell me everything that makes you cool.'" His lip twists a little then he adds, "And I'd be all, 'hey man, if I did that we'd be here for daaaays.'"

Isabel Kane has posed:
One thing about Isabel: she is what she is. She doesn't give the sense that she's trying to hide anything about herself, or pretend she's something she isn't. If she doesn't want to answer a question, she won't weasel-word herself around it, she just ... won't answer it. And may or may not say so out loud.

"Tell you the truth, I'm not sure how many secrets my life has -- secrets that anybody'd be interested in knowing, anyway," she says, poking at the bottom of her glass with the end of a straw. "I come from Iowa -- you picked up on that part, I bet, already. Grew up on a farm. Found these in a cornfield." The goggles, she means; she pats them gently with one hand. "That's not all the details, but it's the five-second version, I guess." Her smile turns wry. "See, now, I bet it'd take way longer than five seconds to get the five-second version of you."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Alexander listens to her and nods, then smiles a little at the mention of Iowa. She can see the amusement light in his eyes when she mentions finding the goggles in a field and he just sort of shrugs a little as if to say, 'such is life' and accepting the curious as just a thing to be absorbed.
    But when she says that last bit he follows along and nods, then his features twist up while she sets the task before him. And for a single second his brow furrows as he looks up, composes his answer, then looks back down and meets her eyes.

    "My dad is a god, and I am too. Kinda."

    There, much shorter than five seconds. His grin, however, speaks entirely to a good ten to twenty seconds worth of mirth coming from the likely coming impact of the statement.
    And then the server comes by and holds out this /huuuuge/ rack of meat on a skewer and asks them, "Sirloin?"

Isabel Kane has posed:
She's laughing when the server comes by, of course, because how can she not be? It's a funny line and it's a good one and darn it, he got her on the five-second thing. It's all she can do to nod to the server, still laughing, and point to her plate while she tries to recover some semblence of composure. It takes a bit! And fortunately there'll be food waiting for her once she's done so.

"Okay, color me amused," she says, once she's able to speak again and the server has departed. "So you're like Thor? That must be so cool." Oh, of course. Everybody has to get compared to Thor. She can't even go for the Hercules comparison. "Oh, and that explains the whole Ares thing! No wonder. You must think I'm really thick for not picking that up before."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Ugh, Thor." Alexander's nose twists up as if he smelled something bad. "No totally not like Thor." Ok a lot like Thor. But Alex nods agreement to the server and helps the man as he slices off portions of the sirloin. He'll hold up a pair of tongs to help take the meat from the man and places it on their respective plates before that server is off on his way once again.
    Those bright hazel eyes slip back to her as he starts to unfold his napkin, knife and fork being gained. "But sorta, yeah. And hey, no harm not understanding the harpies they... their accent is pretty thick." He slices off a bit of sirloin. Chews.
    "And old."
    "But umm, yeah. I'm technically Phobos. Not really a secret identity thing but..." His eyes lift upwards and a slight furrow mars his brow. "Not exactly a thing I want to be hugely known for? If that makes sense."

Isabel Kane has posed:
"Sorry," Isabel says, sounding somewhat contrite. "I bet you get that all the time. Like people who're in the Army and everybody assumes they know everybody else who's in the Army, so they ask, oh, you must know my friend, right?" The analogy is something of a stretch, to be sure. But it's not without a certain skewed kind of relevance.

Whatever other good qualities the brunette may have, she is not a refined eater. Honestly, pretty much the opposite: she eats like she's on the clock and is going to get fined if she takes more than the minimum amount of time. Also, she talks with her mouth full, although fortunately she's still mostly comprehensible in the process.

"Like the moon?" she says. The moon of Mars, presumably. Of course she's enough of a nerd to catch that reference. "I can see why you might not want to! I mean, it must be a little bit of a downer, being around a guy who's basically Fear, right? No offense," she hastens to add, "just, it's probably not as popular as being the god of having a good time. Is there a god of having a good time?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    As she belabours that analogy Alexander just sort of grins, letting her keep digging that hole as his eyebrows raise and he turns his head slowly to the side, as if eyeing her warily and had invited some sort of crazy person to join him for lunch. But that facade is broken when he laughs and shakes his head. "It's ok, I mean, my dad knows him. And... yeah, I've met him so. Ok great he's huge and perfect and awesome."
    He feigns grumpiness but then digs into the sirloin and he can't help but make a small 'mmmmm' sound at the taste of it. Shaking his head he continues to cut off little bits and pieces while he chats. "Yeah, orbits around Mars. And yeah. God of Fear." At that his eyes are still cast down, perhaps hiding that expression. Perhaps not entirely comfortable with his role in the pantheon.
    But then he smiles and looks up, "Though..." He seems to perk a little, "My grandfather sat me down once and said that all of us represent not just the things that we are known for. Like sure. Fear. But it also means that I am there for courage. Bravery. So it's... not entirely bad."
    Then at the mention of a god of having a good time he murmurs, "That's my uncle, Dionysus."

Isabel Kane has posed:
"That's always how it is," Isabel says, trying (not entirely successfully) to commiserate. "It's like my -- well, it's like with World War 2 heroes, probably. That's a better comparison! Everybody assumes you know Captain America, and he's the one everybody wants to talk about. No matter how great some of the other guys are. But," she says, pausing long enough to raise her fork as she makes this point, "one thing I found out is, there's somebody out there who's a fan of you, no matter how much it seems like maybe the world forgot."

His remarks on fear and bravery draw a thoughtful silence from her, and then: "I guess that makes sense. Kind of like how you'd probably pray to the god of disease to not get sick, right? If you had a god of disease. Propitiation, I think they call it."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    As she says the word Propitiation his eyebrows climb and he stares at her for a few seconds, then nods once. Twice. "Wow, I need to look that word up." But to be fair he isn't rude enough to pull his phone out and do so right then. Instead he sort of grins and slices another small bit of sirloin.
    That's when the server wanders by again, now carrying a long skewer with tons of small sausages along its length. "Pork sausage?" He says as he looks between the two and Alexander gives a quick nod, "Please!" And then the server begins to slide off some for him as well as offer some to her. Once that's resolved he's on his way again.
    "Though, to be honest. It's only been a few years since I got into the gig. There was this big rigamaroll to get into it. Lots of crazy things going on. Then this big party. And now..." He looks around slowly and hrms to himself. "Lots of things to deal with for the future."
    "But!" He says as he gestures with his knife, a tiny bit of sausage impaled on the end. "That is why I mentioned Fate to you before. Because of... things I don't quite understand. I am doomed as they say to have an eventful life. To meet amazing people. And to make good friends. Like you. Which can be both good and bad. But so far it's pretty nice." His lip twists a little.

Isabel Kane has posed:
"Sure thing!" Izzy says to the server, quite cheerfully. Her mouth is full when she says it, of course. But the idea gets across. One thing's for sure, she has a pretty healthy appetite. She may be starting to run out of steam a little bit, though.

Her expression becomes vaguely embarrassed. "Okay, so you already know a lot more about this kind of thing" -- fighting harpies in New York? -- than I do. I've only been doing this for, like, six weeks. Wait -- closer to five weeks. I kind of have no idea what I'm doing. I mean -- I know /how/ to do stuff, but /what/, not so much. If that makes sense."

"I don't know, though," she continues; "as dooms go, having an interesting life and meeting a lot of cool people doesn't sound so bad at all. May you live in interesting times and all, but ... having done the whole middle of nowhere thing, it's not all it's cracked up to be either."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    He follows along with her, watching her lips and smiling crookedly at some of her comments, occasionally glancing at her eyes as if that helped him read her more easily. Then he nods along and murmurs a little, gently. "It's... exciting?" He offers that word there, and in truth it is. But then he uncurls a hand toward her as if trying to come up with the right words.
    And for a time he's... just pondering if he should say anything. Perhaps reluctance is there, as if what he might say might endanger the burgeoning friendship. Or if he didn't have the right to say or not say whatever it is. He bites his lower lip for an instant before he says,
    "It's just. You know how in the old stories and things. There are hundreds of tales of people meeting and encountering... people like me. Right?"
    He waits for some acknowledgment before he continues. "It often doesn't turn out well for the 'mortals'. And I hate that word, believe me. Just it sometimes kinda fits. But anyways. There's a reason why it doesn't turn out well for them so often."

Isabel Kane has posed:
She nods slowly. "Be careful what you wish for," she says. "Same way that ... that any time you can, you can do things, and you step up and do them, part of what comes with that is -- you get the bad with the good." She spears a forkful of sausage and inhales it almost without chewing.

"Same way that if, like, you sign up with the interstellar police force, the Green Lanterns or guys like that, you get their enemies as your enemies, too, and maybe -- if you're a regular person -- that's not ... not something you can handle. Or maybe it is."

She's not too put off by this, though. "I think the important part is, you know what you're getting into. And then you can make as much of an informed decision as possible. So you did the right thing in that respect. At least I know, you know? Same way that if you spend time around me, maybe alien war criminals will try to beat you up just on general principle."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "So your thing has aliens involved with it?" Alexander's eyes flit to the goggles again, then back up to her eyes as he tilts his head. Another look spared for the goggles and then he hnhs to himself before he adds thoughtfully. "Cool." And hey, it is cool.
    He then takes a deep breath as the server returns, only this time carrying what looks like a chicken wing wrapped in bacon. He makes eye contact with them both and Alex bobs his head in agreement, taking the proffered food and adding it to his plate.
    A few more moments of shared devouring before he says, "See, that's understandable. But I mean..." His eyebrows beetle together as he adds, "It's an actual magical force with us. The Fates are real beings that... that can be just total jerks. They draw the threads of life, and toy with them sometimes. Sometimes they think two threads would blend well together and they entwine. And sometimes they like to see which one will break first as more and more pressure is put on them."
    He takes a deep breath and murmurs, "So, I just figured. Best to be up front. If we do become friends, and hang out. Bad things might happen, it's more likely than just the normal horrible chaotic happenstance of the world as it is. But there could well be malicious beings that just don't like your face and want to see me sad."
    Then there's a pause as he chews thoughtfully and his expression shifts a little. A little more genuine than the casual happy-go-lucky manner he's evinced for the most part while they've talked as he adds, "S'why I don't have that many friends. And the ones I do often don't stick around. Is all."
    Another pause as he chews, then he adds, as if trying to give her an out. "S'why I wouldn't blame you if you wanted ta start runnin'. Is all." But then he sort of half-smiles again.
    "Man this chicken is good."

Isabel Kane has posed:
Isabel points out, "Technically, your thing has aliens involved in it too. From one point of view, anyway. Except ... I guess if you're native, you're not really aliens, you're just a different species. So maybe not after all. Unless you do come from a whole other ... place." She's slightly hesitant about accepting more food, but ultimately agrees. "Last one."

"They sound like some parents I read about," she muses, while eating. "Always trying to make things come out how they want to, no matter how inconvenient it is to the kids who they're trying to make do stuff. Except worse, 'cause you can get away from your parents. But it's hard to get away from fate."

All the same, she smiles sunnily. "Oh, well. Guess that's just the risks, right? Probably there's plenty of folks that don't like my face anyway, a couple more here and there probably won't kill me." That's probably bravado talking, but at least she /seems/ sincere about it. "Besides. I can't be worrying about what bad things might happen to me for doing the right thing. Have to do it anyway, so there's no sense worrying."