533/Amazon About Town

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Amazon About Town
Date of Scene: 15 March 2020
Location: Manhattan
Synopsis: They had pizza
Cast of Characters: Atlin, Mason Tavner




Atlin has posed:
Vampires, bandits, injuries and terrified locals. New York was a strange place, thus far? She wasn't sure she was liking it just yet, and now she's got a tag-along...

"This town is...confusing," she finally speaks up, glancing sidelong towards the poor agent who was tasked with both protecting her and the city -from- her. "Everyone is in such a rush to be...where are they even going?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    Walking along with her, Mason takes a moment to tap his pockets as he moves, withdrawing a small object and considering it, then tossing it back into the pocket of his overshirt. This close she can see the earpiece he wears, the gear under his shirt. But from afar he looks just like a normal traveler, albeit one that is walking along at ease in the company of an Amazon."
    "It is," He agrees as he strolls, not sparing a glance for her right now. "This time of night?" He looks sidelong at her, "Home? Dinner? A show. Could be lots of things."
    Then he quirks an eyebrow, "Don't have too many Amazons on your island?"

Atlin has posed:
Amazon indeed, but she was dressed rather...unflatteringly. It had been an attempt to blend in after all. His question earns a frown, a shake of her head. "I have never bean to Themyscira," she corrects, turning to the man. "I was born in Bana-Mighdall, long after my people left the island. And we always seem to have more...purpose."

Mason Tavner has posed:
    That's interesting. She can likely read that on his features as his eyebrows lift, eyes slipping curiously to her as he continues to walk along with her. Occasionally she gets a second glance from people, whether it's from her beauty, her skin tone, or her height it is hard to tell for sure. But what is or sure is that she's no shrinking violet.
    "I didn't know there were two settlements of Amazons" He looks sidelong at her, "Mind tellin' me the difference? He continues to stroll, figuring it's ok to ask that. But then realizing it might no be.
    "Unless it's taboo for a stranger to ask that."

Atlin has posed:
A pause, a frown, the woman seems to pause in step for a moment before shaking her head. "I have only stories and what is revealed recently of Themyscira. It is not my place to go spilling the secrets of my homeland to an outsider from 'Man's world'."

Seems she wasn't keen to share with the man she'd just met! "I am however, here to learn about this world and its features. Even with intelligence, there is a lot to cover."

Mason Tavner has posed:
    The laconic man continues to stroll along with the Amazon, his eyes distancing as his features twist a little. But no judgment there, no condemnation. Just acceptance as he replies with a casual lilt of an accent. Southern if she knew the lay of the land, which chances are she might well not.
    "Fair 'nuff." He offers in reply, for a SHIELD agent he doesn't exactly dig too hard for information. Then again that's not his role in this op. Protection, mitigation. Nothing else. Though. She might catch him sparing a glance for her. There've been worse assignments.
    "If'n you want to know somethin' ask away. I'll do my best to answer."

Atlin has posed:
Of course, some of the knowledge Atlin had came from the 'neighbours' of her people, but she hadn't exactly been a diplomat before this journey. A sigh, she turns to look at the man directly, folding her arms under her bust that was hidden by her borrowed hoodie. "Your warriors, they are lacking. Most of your people have roles I do not understand, they are extremely anxious and..."

She trails off, shaking her head and exhaling. "There is a lot I do not understand, perhaps you should tell me where to begin, if you are ment to be accompanying me as a guide."

Empathic as Atlin might be, she was no better at hiding her own wonder at the world, but she was certainly trying behind a mask of agitation!

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Less a guide, I imagine." Mason says as he walks along with her, rubbing a fingertip to the bridge of his nose. He tilts his head to the side and watches her askance, gentle blue eyes taking in that agitation even as part of his mind swirls through possibilities and feeding them back to him in a subtle sub-conscious manner. "More maybe a native translator. I'm just here to give you an occasional answer and make sure you don't start an international incident."
    That said he then smiles as she goes on a bit about the world and what she doesn't care for about it. "Yeah we have a large spectrum of people who consider themselves warriors. Some of ours are pretty good, some of ours not so good."
    He gestures to the side, "I was a soldier for a good bit of time, before SHIELD picked me up. And I figure I could maybe hold my own against one of your warriors. But most of our folks don't quite have the same chops."

Atlin has posed:
"I speak more languages than I imagine you have heard of Mason Tavner," Atlan frowns, a slight twitch of her deceptively cute features that were only enhanced by her physical tone being hidden. "I do not need a translator to speak a language we have been conversing in freely."

His comment on warriors earns a nod, but his admission of being one? That has her glancing sidelong at the man. "You must be quite the soldier to believe you could take on an Amazon. What are your 'Shield' soldiers like?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Mmm, maybe more to translate the colloquialisms and culture. So..." His lips twist up a little and he murmurs sidelong, "A cultural attache. Sound better?" But then he falls silent again, still walking at her side through that park. So late at night, it's asking or trouble. But she wanted to keep on keeping on and so there he was, strolling but with his head on a mild swivel.
    "But I do alright." When she asks about SHIELD soldiers he replies easily enough, "They're good people, fine folk. High level of training and taken from the armed forces of the world for their exceptionalism. Though we're less soldiers and more operatives. Sure we do some soldiering, but that's only part of the job."
    A brief moment as he looks across the way toward a small storefront past the fountain ahead and across the street. He'll then ask, "You hungry?"

Atlin has posed:
"A spy?" She questions, apparently having heard the term. It wasn't really a role that she'd practiced or even her people tended to train up, but knowledge shared by neighbours and the danger of intruders into Bana-Mighdall at least left her familier with the term. "That is what 'Operative' means, no?"
     A puzzled question, but one easily overcome with the next question that earns a light nod. "I have not eaten since this morning...I may have become a little distracted."

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Not exactly," Mason says as he continues the walk, gesturing with a nod to the fountain off the path a little ways, past the rows of park benches where some of the homeless lie sleeping in the hopes the police won't come by and shoo them off.
    "A spy is an operative, yes. But not all operatives are spies." He continues along, taking a slight lead of a step since technically he's now leading them in the direction of that small all night restaurant across the way. "Myself, right now, I'm in charge of you. Usually, I'm on the STRIKE team for rapid response."
    He gives a small shrug, "C'mon, you've had New York pizza yet? This place up here makes a great crust."
    That having been said he reaches the edge of the street, checks both ways, then starts to walk on across.

Atlin has posed:
"I see..." Or perhaps she doesn't, but the woman wasn't going to admit it aloud. Frowning, her gaze does indeed follow to the bench and the homeless sleeping, her puzzlement perhaps felt on his intuition as she passed by. Yet another thing she didn't understand.

"Pizza?" the word was certainly popular on the signage around here. "I have yet to try it, but it seems to be the cultural dish of Man's world...or is it just this city?"

Mason Tavner has posed:
    And maybe this is why he was chosen, for he answers her unspoken words as easily as he does the others, now walking along the sidewalk and heading towards the corner pizza place with its ubiquitous signage that declares proudly, 'Voted #1 Pizza in all New York!' which approximately 7000 pizza places all claim throughout the city. "An operative is in charge of a mission. Whether it is helping someone like you out, rescuing a hostage, picking up a package, or finding out information. Just about anything. A spy, however, is just responsible for finding things out. See what I mean?"
    That said he reaches the door and holds it open for her, the bell in the glass window jangling with the opening. "And yah, some people have mental illness," He looks towards the homeless, "Or a drug addiction or lost the support of their family and friends somehow and live on the street. Lots of different reasons but usually those."

Atlin has posed:
"So an operative is someone who carries out a task..." A little glimmer of a little more understanding, neat. The Amazon actually looked a little pleased with this clarrification as she moved towards the store. She'd have to take the signage at its word, if she even noticed it.

Mention of illness has her frowning, but the support of family and friends lost has her blinking. "You do not care for those orphaned all the way up to adulthood?"

Such a practical assumption about 'lost', leave it to the daughter of war to assume she meant dead. "New York is a cruel city."

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Children are cared for, if we find them. Sometimes things aren't quite so easy." Mason says as he lets the door swing shut behind them, entering that ubiquitous pizza parlor and greeting the cashier on duty with a wave. He gestures with a nod toward one of the seats near to the window, a booth it looks like. With a little red and white plastic table cloth, small red glass candles, and pepper and parmesan shakers. Exactly like all the other pizza joints in the city.
    He steps up to the cashier and places the order for a large pepperoni, placing a twenty on the countertop then turns and walks on over to the booth, sliding into a seat intended to be opposite from her.
    Once she's close enough to hear he'll continue, "Might be best if you don't presume we're all monsters and junk. If a thing is, then there's usually a reason for it. And sometimes it's not an evil one."

Atlin has posed:
Her empathy was different to his, but she still had enough to feel the irritation. If she could pick it up among the frantic sea of the city anyway. "Amazon were ment to be the protectors of Man's world...before we were spurned and betrayed. I'm sure there are plenty of innocents like that couple, among those brigands and bloodsuckers..."
     She sighs, closing her eyes as she sits down and adjusting her hoodie once more and smoothing out the ill-fitting garment before she opens her eyes once more. "I wish to eat first, before we discuss more."

Mason Tavner has posed:
    "Sure thing, always best to stop being Hangry before tackling a heavy topic." That said he seems entirely comfortable in silence, leaning back in his seat and propping one boot up on the bench beside him, his attention across the way on the server. If Mason has one thing going for him, it's his utter and complete comfort in silence and being able to relax most anywhere. Even in a warzone.
    So if she has nothing further to add he passes the time, occasionally glancing at the large window behind the cashier, letting him keep his head on a swivel in case other operatives might show.
    Then, before they know it, the pizza emerges, the bell rings, and he gets up to to get it. Soon after that he returns, setting it in the middle of the table for her to help herself. Though he does offer some paper plates by sliding them across the table to her.

Atlin has posed:
"Hangry?" The term was back to puzzling her. Thousands of languages, but obviously she wasn't quite tutored on slang right now. Giving a little shift, she's left to await answer or food. Whichever comes first! Letting her gaze slip back to the table, the woman pauses to the sight of plates coming and the meal. Certainly it smelt fantastic, but she was left to stare at the dish as she waited for Mason to eat first.
     She didn't wish to commit any faux-pas after all!