2012 05 10 Juicy Piece Of Meat

Log Title:
Juicy Piece of Meat

Armand, Empath and Krista

IC Date:
May 10, 2012

Central Park - New York

Brief Log Summary::
After the events of the White Knights, the mutants sit and chat.


There is no TS in this log::

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After all the pink sticks of death and the twins and the blown up cars and such, Armand can only sit on a bench, arms folded over his chest, expression…gloomy to say the least as he stares off at nothing in particular. "All I wanted was hot-dog." He sighs softly, shoulders slumping as he continues to stares off at nothing in particular and seems a bit shaken up.

Not having gone too far, Empath watches from a distance as the White Knights teleport away. Still remaining a distance away to be sure they do not return. He finally breathes a sigh of relief and has recovered enough from the sickness and pain attacks. He begins to make his way towards the seated Armand. Sensing the mutant’s gloominess over losing all his possessions, the Spaniard approaches. “Thank you for earlier.”

The diminutive Krista once more expands to her natural size, but she is laid out on her back, conscious but looking weary. All that shrinking and growing must be exhausting work. After a few moments and a deep breath she sits up and gets to her feet "You are the second person this week that has questionable taste in friends." she comments as goes to the park bench, though she doesn't sit.

"De rien." Is the grunted response from the young man as he blinks and…blinks again, processing the fact that the mysterious sick man is back. "It was very disgusting, but you looked bad off." Armand unfolds his arms to examine his nails with a shrug of his shoulders. "Perhaps better friends you must learn to make, they did not look pleased to see you." Then he lifts a hand to waves tentatively to Krista, blinking some more as he just stares. "You are no longer wee." Stating the obvious.

When he hears the comment about friends, he looks over at Armand, “Well, I understand he is homeless and clearly poor…but I just met him. I would not call him my friend.” He looks back to Armand, “Though thank you for trying to help me.” Empath offers a confused glance at Armand, “I am sorry. But your accent and words confuse me. Those attackers were clearly not my friends either.”

"I /wasn't/ talking about Dante here." she gestures to Armand "I meant the teleporting twins." she then nods wearily at the french teen "Yeah, I'm not used to such rapid size changes." she looks at Empath "Your welcome and stay out of trouble." she doesn't say more, just gathers what few belongings she had and walks away.

Armand points to himself when the mention of 'homeless' and 'poor' and he looks puzzled, eyebrow raising and lips pursing together as he looks Empath over once more and gives a little shake of his head. "Not friends, then they are enemies and they kicked your ass…through your throat." Then he waves after Krista as tentatively as before, head tilting to the side curiously. "This is being very strange day."

As Krista leaves, Empath once again offers his thanks and then takes a seat next to Armand, “Thank you again. I noticed your cart was destroyed. I can perhaps offer to pay for all of the cans and whatnot. It is the least I can do.” He offers a sympathetic smile and already his power is at work trying to cheer up Armand. “And no, the White Knights did not kick my ass. There were others. I know who they are and will be sure to get even.” He sighs loudly, “Anyhow, how much would you like for your cart?”

"Eh?" Armand taps a finger against his chin as he stares in the direction that the teleporting twins were previously and he looks back to Empath, lifting a shoulder and chuckling softly. "Only perhaps 20 dollars max in cans and bottles." A pause.
"Thankfully, I keep my important tings here." He pats his messenger bag. "But everhing else was destroyed in cart so maybe 20 dollars, oui."

Nodding, Empath reaches into his pocket and pulls out a roll of hundreds. He begins to pull one but then looks over Armand and simply hands him the roll. There is at least a thousand there. “Here, for your cart and some extra.” The Spaniard offers a smile, “That was nice of you to try and save me. I really should have found out who the shrinking and growing girl is. I wonder if she is a mutant.”

Armand accepts the money, freezing up a bit as he notices that they are hundreds and his mouth opens and shuts and opens…and then shuts like a fish before giving a tiny nod. He squeaks and hugs the money to his chest. "Merci Beaucoup…" He shivers and then nods slowly. "The Petite supergirl, yes…I tink something is different about her indeed…"

Noting the reaction to the money, “You really are homeless, huh? Well, maybe you can spend the night somewhere nice or pay rent on a place for a month.” Standing up and patting his stomach, Empath pouts, “And I really did want to eat something.” A different hot dog vendor can be seen coming their way with a cart. “Perfect. Would you like one as well?”

"Oui. Homeless but not yet hopeless is what I always say." Armand carefully stashes the money away into a pouch in his messenger bag and he catches his bottom lip between his teeth. "Want what? Oh! Hot-Dog! Oui!" He hops up off the bench with a bit of a hop as he looks around. "I am in love with hot-dogs, just the dog the bun is troublesome but they are so juicy!"

“Well, that is a good way to be. Never give up hope, I say.” Empath nods, “I am not so much a fan of hot dogs myself. I prefer hamburgers. But hot dogs can be tasty.” Empath orders two hot dogs. One without buns. Manuel is typically not a nice person at all, but considering Armand did seemingly put his own life in danger. “I am friends with the owner of a hotel in midtown. I can see about getting you a room there.”

Armand watches the hot-dog like a hawk, shifting weight from one foot to the other as he shakes his head. "I do not like hamburger because I have had to make them before after killing the cow. It was non Pretty." He pulls a face before blinking at the offer of a room and a hotel and he tilts his head to the side. "Hmm…that would be very kind oui but…what is the catch?"

“No catch…I am just returning the favor for saving my life. Or at least trying to.” Manuel bows his head. “I am a man of means. That is why those people were after me.” He looks over his hot dog and then shakes his head, “Here you can have my hot dog too.” He gives it to Armand.

Armand ahhs softly and he has his hotdog and he's whispering softly in French to the piece of meat before he's offering /another/ hot dog and he's taking that one too, taking the time to remove the bun from the dog and tucking the bun into his bag. "Very well Monsieur. I shall accept this offer hm? But I shall pay you back overtime."

“Wow, you really like hot dogs, huh.” Empath blinks and for the first time shuts down his empathy powers so as not to glean how much Armand truly enjoys the piece of meat. “As for paying me back. I will find a way that you can.” Manuel exhales, “So you are French? How did you end up in New York?”

Armand considers how to reply as he has half a hot-dog shoved in his mouth as he chews slowly and hums softly. Technically, the entire set-up probably looks 20 shades of wrong but he's too happy about his food to really care. After a swallow he scratches his cheek and shrugs. "Ahh, Maman…she is from France but then with the Creole in Louisiana is where many years I lived…I ended up here because it was time to leave." A firm nod.

“Ah ok. I was thinking it was that you ran away. Probably different or do not fit in with the backwater hicks down in Louisiana.” Empath is brisk and rude about the Louisiana comment, but he considers most people beneath him. “I had also thought for a second you were France. But clearly you are not.”

Armand sighs softly before he rubs the back of his neck and lowers his hotdog, hair shifting from where it hangs down his back to drape over his shoulder to one side. "It isn't a sin to run away…unless you're running from a sin." He murmurs softly. "I was born in France, I lived there for time as well. Paris even."

“Ah, well your accent is not completely atrocious.” Manuel retorts as he moves back to the bench and takes a seat, “But tell me, are you running from a sin? What made you leave? Also, what is your name? It would be nice to know my hero’s name and to let them know at the hotel.”

Armand chuckles and nibbles on his frank…aka his hotdog with a pensive expression, settling back down on the bench and crossing his legs. "From a sin? Non. From the sin of ignorance of others, oui." Then his cheek pokes out from the hotdog he is chewing on and he quirks an eyebrow. "Armand Pierre. It is not fancy but it is functional." A bow of his head. "A pleasure to have tried to save your life."

“Sin of ignorance? I am intrigued. I mean clearly you are different from others…but I wonder in what way exactly, Armand Pierre?” The grin of curiosity forms on his face as he reclines back on the bench in a relaxed manner, “What makes you so different? Other than lengthy mane of hair. You make Fabio look bald with that much hair power.” Manuel offers.

"I-I am no different than others." Armand fidgets with his leftover hotdog and worries his bottom lip. "Well perhaps a bit, with the France and the illegitimacy and the 'oh no, mon dieu, le infant is cursed…and the rest of the nonsense." He waves a hand vaguely. "It is just the hair." A helpless shrug as he twirls a bit of the hair around his finger and toys with it. "Fabio has noting on me, is true."

“You are hiding something. I can tell. You stuttered and your body language reads of nervousness.” The wry grin remains on his face as Manuel presses the issue, “You are illegitimate and people thought you were cursed? Why is that? Being a bastard son does not necessarily decree a curse.” He hmmmns as he tries to figure out Armand’s secret.

"Secrets can protect you, oui?" Armand finishes up that hotdog and half of the second one before seeming to take a breath and he blinks. "Have you ever…not on purpose gotten very very pissed at an Uncle because they no like your Maman?" He shrugs. "Then you are sent to military school." He nibbles on a glossy black nail before giving a tiny nod. "Family is family."

Nodding his head, Manuel smiles, “Well, Armand Pierre. It was nice meeting you. I will give your information to the hotel. Stop by and say you are a friend of Manuel de la Rocha.” He bows his head, “I am sure we will meet again.

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