2011 09 05 When Mischief Makers Meet

Log Title:
When Mischief-Makers Meet

Revelin & Richenda Grey

IC Date:
Sep 05, 2011

Brooklyn Hazelton Mall

Brief log summary::
Tom & Chenda meet in the mall


There is no TS in this log::

Post your log::
Marvel Untold - Tuesday, September 06, 2011, 12:01 PM

"Welcome to the Brooklyn Hazelton Mall - in Brooklyn." Tom Revelin is standing underneath a sign advertising the mall itself - inside the mall -

reading it aloud. "Well, I'm glad they put the location there, or we'd never find the place!" He laughs. His accent is Australian, and he is dressed

in his usual pants, shirt and jacket although he has no shoes on his… hoofs. The trousers are pretty long anyway. All around him, on the second

level of the mall, people move in every direction to and from every store. Behind him is an electronics store next to a gift shop. Revelin has a

parcel under his arm and checks a piece of paper in his hand.
In the electronics store, some kids are examining a couple of ipods while casting wary glances in the direction of the shop-owner. A customer in the

gift-shop is haggling over the price of a teddy bear, and down on the first floor is a stage where a man is announcing prices over the PA system.

Revelin takes in all in, dusts of his jacket and hums.

There's something about being a face in the crowd that draws Chenda to this mall often. And it's New York, so it's one of the world's largest crowds.

Clad in flare-leg jeans, a two-tone longsleeved tee, and her signature red hightops, the gypsy girl is practicing her favorite two public arts,

people-watching and pocket-picking, often both at once. The fellow in the blue jacket reading the sign is a perfect target… until she spots the

package under his arm. Working stiff. And the address is still on the package. She moves closer, trying to read the label. Darn curiosity…

Revelin clacks a cloven hoof against the ground as his attention is focused on the two kids in the electronics store. "Bloody amateurs," he mutters

aloud to himself. "They'll be caught any second now with all the 'hey, don't look at us' they're shoutin' everywhere. For cryin' out loud…" He

adjusts the parcel under his arm and takes a look at the address again - it's for a store here, and judging by the shop number, a store on the other

side of the mall.
In the gift shop, the customer's haggling gets louder and the shop assistant looks like she would rather drive a spork through her own eye than be at

work another minute. Tom Revelin grins. He should stay and see what happens - the delivery can wait. He has no idea he is being watched or approached

by anyone.

"Won't they, though?" Chenda opines from beside him, giving the deliveryman a smile. "They couldn't get any more conspicuous with a marching band

following them around. Oh, and hi."

Tom nearly leaps out of his skin - or hair - and spins nimbly around to see Chenda there. It only takes him a moment to regain his composure and he

even laughs at the girl's comment. "Marching band? I like that. A pity I couldn't arrange for one - coz right now I'd loooove to—oh."
He cuts off as the tech-store owner grabs both boys by the scruff of the neck and sends them out. The boys swear and carry on as teenagers do, and

sullenly stalk away. Tom sighs.
"Well… that was anticlimactic. I wonder if they got anything for their trouble…?" He stops and gives a little shrug. "Oh, hi!" He finally says to

Chenda. "Didn't see you there. Got 'n eye for trouble too eh? I'm Tom."

The gypsy girl chuckles, watching the eviction in action. "Probably not, unless it was fingerprints on the iPods they were pawing. They cable those to

the display stands nowadays." She offers a hand and another smile. "Chenda. I guess you could say I'm an authority on technique, and I like watching

it in action."

Laughter - wry, good-natured laughter. "Well," Tom chuckles, "Then you must be disappointed if you think you saw 'technique' just now…" He shakes

his head and extends a hand to the girl. "Now, what's a good line? I'm supposed to have a line right now, aren't I? Americans always have a line for

moments like this, like um… 'what's a place like you doing in a girl like—?' No. Reverse that. 'Of all the shoplifters in all the stores in all the

world, you had to pick out mine?' Nah… that doesn't work either. I'll have to settle for 'please t' meetcha.'"

"Or lack thereof, at least with those kids. The storekeeper, though, /he/ was quite the artist!" Chenda replies, stifling giggles. She stops stifling

as Tom explains the art of 'lines'. "Pleased to meet you, too! And actually, the lines thing never works. Most of 'em are worn out, and besides,

you're at work, aren't you?" She gestures to the package with a grin.

"Work…" Tom echoes with a plaintive nod. "Yeah. I'm supposed to be." He looks over at Chenda and smirks. "Such a downer isn't it? Fortunately, I got

here a fair bit quicker than I was expected to, so I'm killing time now. I was trying to make a decision - hey! Now that you're here, maybe you can

help!" He gestures expansively with his free hand, an action that pulls back his jacket a bit to expose how hairy the back of his hand is. "I was

either going to have some fun with those shoplifters - but you're right, the owner was an artist in his own way, and art should be preserved, yeah?

There's the old bag in the gift shop, and I thought of adding some 'levity' to that little soap opera in there… Or. I could go for a cappuccino at

that cafe over there, and get to know the gorgeous sheila standing in front of me? What do you think?"

"Um, Chenda," the gypsy girl corrects automatically. She gestures to the package. "Actually, sitting around a cafe with that would probably get you

noticed. But if you /did/ grab a cappuccino, and I did too, and you walked with me to the store in question, I'd just be showing you where it was,

right?" She winks conspiratorially. Not that she doesn't notice the hairy back of his hand, or his hooves, now that she's close enough to hear the

sound of them on the mall's tiles. She just doesn't mention it.

Tom nods. "Y'know - you're right. Absolutely right. The address on this thing is fuzzy anyway, and I was just about to stop for directions - maybe ask

those two kids - when you showed up. I'm all set now! Let's go." He tucks the parcel a little more under his arm and beckons to Chenda to walk with

him. The nearest cafe is several feet away, through a crowd of people doing their shopping. Families stick together closely - lest they lose their

kids in the mall - and trollies are squeaking noisily as they get pushed around full of groceries. For the moment, the queue at the cafe isn't that

long, and the aroma of coffee, hot chocolate and even chai is easy to detect.
"My treat, Chenda. What shall I get you? And what does bring you to this place? Not work too, is it? Please say it's not work - if it is, you have my


Chenda grins, and does indeed walk with him. "Your treat? Thanks. I'm short on cash. I'm just here to check on the place. It got pretty beat up in a

superhero battle not long after I came to town, but it looks like they rebuilt it pretty well. Aside from the newer tile, you can't tell anything

happened," she says, gesturing to the food court's floor. "Same as you're having… maybe with a little more chocolate?"

Tom nearly bumps into another shopper when he hears the words 'beat up', and has to practically dance out of the way - rather nimbly at that, although

his hoofs make a bit of a clatter and he closes his eyes. "Way to go, Rev… way to go…." He gives his head a shake and nods apologetically to the

older couple he nearly knocked over. "So… beat up? here? Superhero battle? Wow… And I thought *I* got up to mischief! I gotta try harder!"
At the cafe, the attendant calls out for whomever is next and Tom lifts a hand. "You do chili here for hot chocolate? Yeah… two hot chocolates. One

with chili - the other with extra chocolate. Large."

Chenda gives Tom an odd look at his momentary clumsiness at two certain words, and stifles a chuckle as he narrowly avoids a collision. "Ya never

know… I haven't seen your brand of mischief. You might have them beat," she says, grinning. "The store's this way… and up a flight of stairs.

Better to use those than take the elevator."

Handing Chenda her hot drink, Tom nods and takes a sip of his. He winces. "Hmm… I've made better." He starts walking in the direction as directed by

Chenda, grinning. "You haven't tried a decent hot chocolate or cappuccino until you've tried mine—oh. This way, right. Elevators are too slow. Much

too slow." He hums a little - a tune from a Greysong album - and adjusts the parcel under his arm. "So what do you do with yourself, Chenda? When

you're not checking up on the sites of epic battles, triumphs and tragedies?"

"You make your own?" Chenda smiles, impressed. "Love to try it… though maybe I shouldn't…" Fortunately, there's a change of topic. "Me? Mostly I

go to school. I'm attending a boarding school in Massachusetts, to help a friend. What about you, Tom? What do you do, when you're not carting around

packages and buying strange girls coffee?" The last is said in a faintly teasing tone.

Tom pauses at the foot of the stairs when the two of them finally reach it. "Strange girls, eh?" he muses aloud, his Aussie accent very obvious.

"What's another outdated line…? 'strange is as strange does?'" he says it with a near-perfect imitation of Forrest Gump and grins. "I'm an actor -

surprise! Performer, singer - whatever. Mostly studio stuff now - someone needs a guitarist or vocals, 'n I'm there. I finished school, not that long

ago. Now I go looking for mischief.
What's boarding school like? Massachusetts isn't nearby - not for most people anyway." He smirks at that last comment and takes another sip of his


"Not bad. And you play the guitar? I'm sorry you can't meet a friend of mine. He's a musician trying to put a band together," Chenda replies, resting

an arm on the bannister and a foot on the first step. "I don't see him much anymore, since I had to go off to school."
She has to think about the subject of boarding school. "Well, it's… not much fun," she admits, frowning thoughtfully. "It's a nice enough place, but

we have to wear uniforms, and I don't like the Headmistress much. Something about her just rubs me the wrong way, I guess."

Looking up the staircase, which isn't really that high, Tom frowns. "I hate stairs," he mutters, only half-hearing Chenda's comments. "What? Oh! Yeah!

Guitar - acoustic. Just met the lead singer of Greysong a few days ago. He's trying to make another band too. Great guy." He continues to pause,

looking up at the top of the stairs and then around to see if anyone is nearby. "I'd hate boarding school, I think. Uniforms… ugh. You said you were

helping a friend? You're not there to study for yourself? That's strange."
Tom lowers his voice a bit and whispers. "I can't stand stairs etc. Mind if we take the express up to the top? Get it over with?"

"You /have/ met Mike? Cool! Have you thought about being in his band?" Chenda has to ask, worry mingling with eager joy in her eyes. It's enough that

she misses the comment about her motives for attending the school. Maybe.
But his question makes her blink and risk a telltale glance at his feet. "Huh? Oh! I'm so sorry, I should've thought about that. Sure, we can take the


Tom grins - broadly, impishly. "Yeah, I know Mike. My apartment's in the same building as his. Heh, he even signed my CD. He said something about

playing for him, maybe." Tom glances back in the direction of the elevator and shakes his head. "Nah, not that," he says with a smirk, and reaches for

Chenda's hand while holding his parcel tucked under his arm. "This."
A swirling, opaque portal opens up directly underneath Tom's and Chenda's feet, taking a second or two to form. An identical portal forms at the top

of the stairs. The pair of them 'fall' instantly through the first to rise up out of the second at the top of the staircase, with Tom grinning smugly.

"Do you think you will?" Chenda asks before she can stop herself. It's really more of a question for Mike.
But she has no time to apologize for it, because Tom's catching her hand, and suddenly she's falling! For about half a second. And then they're

someplace else!
But, as she can see when she looks around, catching her breath, they're not far from where they were. She glances over at Tom, wide-eyed. "Whoa…

next time, let a girl know, okay?" She seems to be taking this with remarkable good grace.

"And you didn't even scream - erm, not that I wanted you to. Honestly." Tom gives Chenda a once-over - and grins again. "Everything seems to be where

it should be… Um, sorry if I scared you." He dusts his pants off, which makes the hoofs more visible. He doesn't seem to care now, and takes another

sip of his drink before heading off in the direction of the store. "Yeah, in answer to your question - I'd love to play. I'm still a fan of Greysong -

even though they're… well. Two of 'em are dead - Mike told me. Mike's after a guitarist, so we'll see how it works. How long have you been away in

prison—erm, I mean boarding school?"

Following Tom's gaze, Chenda looks herself over. Nothing really seems wrong… she brushes at her sleeves and gives the waist of her jeans a steadying

tug, just in case. "Sorry. Next time I'll clutch my chest, wail like a banshee, and collapse in a heap," she ripostes with a grin. "I'd ask if you do

that to every girl you meet, but I have a feeling the answer'd be yes!"

Revelin laughs at that. "Not every… but most. They usually start to notice things before too long anyway." He does a quick little tap-dance move.

"Like my dancing skills, or quick wit - that sort of thing. You understand." He walks beside Chenda toward the store which is only a matter of feet

away. "What about you? You said you're studying for a friend - there's gotta be a story there! And I already know you moonlight as a superhero - or is

it the damsel in distress? I could be the handsome knight - but I left my armour in my other pants. What else do you do with yourself? What do you


"Well, the hooves and the hairy hands were kind of a giveaway…" Chenda admits. "But what makes you think I moonlight as a superhero? Surely it's not

the boarding school thing. I don't have many friends, and I love the ones I've got. It really isn't any more complicated than that."

Tom pauses and gives a shrug. "So it's damsel in distress then? I'm teasing. I'd probably take that over being in a boarding school - that can't be

fun." He double-checks the shop number on the parcel and then points at the corresponding number on a nearby store. "Aha. Well, most of my friends I

left back in SydneyAustraliawith the other half of my family. The rest are here in the States. Do you get to visit New York very often - being

stuck in Massachusetts now?"

"More like witness. I was nearby when that broke out," Chenda says, finally realizing what he thought earlier. "I'm just glad nobody was seriously

hurt except the bad guy." A thought strikes and she smiles. "And being in boarding school is a lot like being a damsel in distress, when you think

about it. Awful clothes, doing things you don't want to do, and not being able to leave. This is the first time I've visited New York since the

semester started. It might be the last for a while."
She glances down, then back at him. "You're a long way from home. Is it the whole mutant thing?"

Revelin takes a step, stops, and then glances sidelong at Chenda. "The mutant thing?" He 'hmphs' dryly. "Yeah I guess so. At first, anyway. Mum stayed

'Down Under', while Dad came back here to his hometown. He's alright. Hell, so's she… but not as much. He works for the FBI." Tom keeps a very

well-schooled expression on his face when he makes that last comment, and twirls the parcel between his hands. "You know anyone else here besides

Mike? Maybe I should visit Massachussets… always wanted to."

"No shame in it, Tom. You're in good company," Chenda says, finishing the last of her cappucino. She holds it up, giving a little flourish to make

sure he's watching, then lowers it into the open mouth of trash can, still in full view of him. And with a *pop* and a small flare of light, it


Tom bursts out laughing and does yet another little dance on the spot, finishing with a Michael-Jacksonesque spin. "Now *that* is some trick!

B.E.A.yootiful! So what did you do? Teleport it to…somewhere else? Wait, the moon! Or is it just…'poof' gone?" He grins broadly at Chenda as

though he's just found a kindred spirit. Of mischief.

"Disintegrated," Chenda replies, regaining a little of her color. She'd paled at the mention of the FBI. "It's not really /gone/, just converted to

energy, or so someone told me. I could bring it back, but there's no point." She smiles. "As long as it's not alive, I can do that with anything

fairly light. No poofing tanks or anything like that."

Tom frowns a little at the concern, or fear, or discomfort that he notices in Chenda's face - curious. Then he brightens. "Homework! This is perfect!

You, my friend, have the *perfect* power for homework! Man… why didn't I know you when I was in highschool? Can you imagine?—"
Tom immediately assumes a different posture, straight-backed and pompous. He brushes his hair back behind his ears and peers down his nose at a space

right next to Chenda. "Do you mean to tell me, Mr Revelin," he says in a harsh, reproving voice like brittle cement, "That your homework just vanished

in a—a 'poof of light?!'" Tom, switches personas then, looking more like himself only very very innocent. "Yes, ma'am, I do. I swear to God." He

grins at Chenda.

Chenda stifles laughter, then schools her face into the perfect picture of schoolgirl innocence. "Yes, Ma'am! It did, sure as sure. I saw it myself!

Just a little pop and a flash, and it was gone with the wind!"

Turning aside with a genuine chuckle, Tom shakes his head. "I ought to see this school of yours - you lied to me. With someone there who has *your*

sense of humour, it can't be all that bad. We'd make a great team - I 'port us in so you can 'poof' the teacher's favourite whiteboard marker, and

'port back out. We could make it a signature move: 'The 'Port 'n Poof'…. hmm, sounds a bit wrong though. I need a better name. Wait here!"

Tom springs away from Chenda's side and tosses his chili-hot-chocolate in the bin on his way to the store. A man is standing near the entrance and Tom

is about to present the parcel to him.

"It's a knack," Chenda replies modestly, clasping her hands behind her back. "And that's got real possibilities. Let's think about it when you get

back." She steps back, settling onto a nearby bench in case it's a long dropoff.

Tom is all smiles and politeness to the storeowner, who in turn is the picture of gratitude. The parcel is signed-for, handed over and farewells are

given. As soon as the man's back is turned Tom vanishes through a 'hole' in the floor, and drops out of another one in the air about 6 feet above the

ground right beside Chenda. He sits down.
"Miss me?"

Chenda, for her part, blinks as Tom appears from nowhere. "Can I safely draw the conclusion that you are /not/ going to warn a girl next time?" she

asks wryly, trying not to smile. "How far can you do that, anyway? That was a pretty good walk from here."

Tom sits down - not too close to Chenda; he isn't trying to use her lap for a cushion or anything - nor too far away. He shrugs. "I haven't really

tested its limits yet - but it's pretty far. I have to see where I'm going, or have been there before. I could hop cities if I wanted to—and I do to

visit my Dad." He gives Chenda a serious look. "I am sorry I surprised you again - no, truly! If you want me to pre-warn you, I can. I could call

ahead and tell you I'm dropping in… but you'd have to give me your number." Oh yes, he just oooozes confidence with that last comment - and he rubs

it in with a single wink.

Chenda blushes, though she laughs, too. "That's a new high in audacity, but it… well, giving you my number might be a problem. I don't have a phone.

I could give you the Academy's number, but I don't know if they'd let you talk to me."

Tom looks confused. "They… don't let students have outside contact? Mobile—erm, Cellphones? Or just you? Don't tell me you're the 'campus ratbag'?

You? Never!" He grins at that last comment. "What boarding school is it? If I'm ever in Massachussetts, I'll drop in for a visit…if you can stand to

have another 'acquaintance-slash-friend' around, that is."

Chenda's blush deepens. "I don't own a cellphone. I can't afford one. If that makes me the campus ratbag, hand me some cheese to nibble on. I think

it's just called the Massachusetts Academy, and it's in Snow Valley, Massachusetts." She does manage a faint smile. "And I never mind acquaintance-

slash-friends. They're the only family I've got."

Revelin reaches into a pocket and pulls out a card. He glances at Chenda and grins. "Yeah, I have my own business cards - nothing special though. This

is for music stuff. Here—" he hands the card over, waiting for Chenda to take it. It has his name, 'Tom Revelin' on it with a mic and a guitar

pictured as well as his contact details. "If you want it - for when you're in New York next. And if you can't get here and want to cause some mayhem

in Massachussetts - well I'd be up for that too.
Schools need all the mischief they can get."

Chenda blinks, but takes the card, looking it over appreciatively. "Better than a notebook," she says at last, tucking it into a pocket. "Thanks, Tom.

I /will/ be in touch."

Tom rises to his feet and smirks boyishly at Chenda. "Well I should get going. I might find those two kids and thank 'em for their botched attempt at

robbing that store - if I hadn't stopped to watch 'em I might not have met you! … Hmm, I could give them some pointers as well. Diligence should be

rewarded, don't you think?" He trots away a few paces and spins around, facing Chendra.

"If you're ever near Tate Apartments, look me up. I'm late for an audition… which means *shoes*" He grimaces. "and a change of clothes. Have a good

one, Chenda!" A portal opens up in the ground behind him as he slowly backs toward it.

"Well, you might warn them not to look around so much," Chenda replies, chuckling, moving with him. "I'll be sure to come by if I'm in the


The young fellow stops. The portal remains 'in' the floor right behind him for a second, and then vanishes. "Hmm… where are my manners? Do you need

a lift? I can put you just about anywhere in New York! If I leave you here, you have to tackle the stairs - or the blasted elevators - by yourself.

And no one should have to do that." He gives a sagely nod of his head.

Chenda laughs merrily. "Oh, no. No need. Thank you, though. I'll make sure to take advantage next time I'm in town. Who needs taxi fare when you've

got a friend with a teleporter?"

"OK, then! I'll catch you round, Chenda. Take care!" Tom takes a step back as another portal opens beneath him, quickly swallowing him whole as the

sound of a 'mwah!' echoes up from the swirling vortex right before it disappears.

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