A Matter of Mistaken Identity

Brief Title:
A Matter of Mistaken Identity

Armand, Kimura (NPC), ShowStopper, X-23

Scene Runner/Watcher:

IC Date:
02/17/13 11:00

Chinatown and Little Italy - New York

In which Richenda crosses paths with X-23, Kimura rears her head, and Armand eats noodles.

Social or Plot:


Chinatown. The weather is still cold and miserably cloudy, which is more than enough to keep most people indoors or hurrying along to wherever they need to be. Still, there are those die-hard knots of people dead-set on picking up a few things or hitting a restaurant for an early lunch. They may be few and far between, but it's enough to populate the area and give it some seeming of life until the weather warms up and the area's figurative blood starts to flow in earnest.
It's difficult to say just what the leather jacket-wearing young woman is after. Her dark hair is down and her heavy boots make no sound on the sidewalk as she ventures past a stretch of restaurants. Her hands are buried in her jacket pockets and her expression is indifferent, with green eyes periodically flicking to the sidewalk opposite or to the windows of the nearest shops. Nothing seems to hold her interest long, but her pace is unhurried - casual, really. X is on her way somewhere and she's in no hurry to get there.

Even in this kind of weather, Chenda loves Chinatown. Honestly, sincerely, loves it. Not only is the place colorful and vibrant, at least on the tourist-centric streets, it's a good place for her to practice her Cantonese in conversation. The shopkeepers are a pretty patient bunch, especially when someone's genuinely trying and obviously not Chinese.
She's out on the street now, standing in front of her favorite restaurant in the area, debating whether or not to go in. The Jade Phoenix has some of the best food in this part of the city, but there's always the temptation to wait and people-watch for a while longer.
And then she catches a face in the reflection from the window she's in front of. That girl's face looks familiar... in fact, other than the clothes, /she/ looks familiar. The body language is the clincher. "Huh? Gabby?" Chenda asks aloud of no one, blinking and turning to hurry after the dark-haired girl.

So the weather isn't all that great, but Armand can be found out on a walk wearing a pair of fitted dark black jeans, green converse sneakers on his feet and a dark green plaid pea coat worn over his cream colored turtleneck, hair pulled back into a singular braid and a green knitcap on his head. There's a theme here as he walks along with a white take-out box and a pair of chopsticks, picking shrimp out of some noodle dish he has and enjoying his lunch. There's a couple of shopping bags hanging from his arm and he carries as usual his golden backpack and his leather messenger bag.

If the called name was for her, she doesn't respond or even slow for it. Instead, X sniffs the air surreptitiously, only to file that information away along with her mental notes of the location and people milling about within it. The sound of someone approaching is enough to put the young woman on edge. She may not physically display the tension, but it's there; coiled beneath the surface. Green eyes slant to consider the reflections in the next window - specifically the one following her - but her expression remains empty; a flat mask of impassivity. Another flick of her eyes brings the shrimp-eating male into her peripheral vision. Satisfied with the knowledge of the collective locations of others in the area, she pushes onward toward a small noodle shop that's stuffed between two other shops that sell various odds and ends.

"'Scuse me!" Chenda says more than once, slipping past a small knot of people on the sidewalk, then past Armand. They've met; twice actually, but the second time she was not only dressed /a lot/ differently, but not even using her own name. She barely notes his presence, her attention still reserved for the familiar-looking girl up ahead.
But not that much farther ahead now! "Hello? Gabby?" she asks, stepping up next to Laura, careful not to touch her. "It's me, Chenda. Didn't you hear me calling you?" she asks, her tone good-naturedly amused. "Wow, it's been forever! How are you?"

Armand pauses in mid nibble of shrimp when he sees a glimpse of Richenda, head tilting to the side at the hint of a familiar face but when she quickly is moving on towards the other girl, he's polite enough not to interrupt.

Too close. X's upper lip twitches just a little in a mute snarl in the split seconds before the unknown female closes the distance. The mask snaps back into place at just the last moment and she sidesteps, immediately setting a buffer in place between herself and the other female. Her head turns, but just enough to regard the clearly confused young woman from the corner of one cool, green eye. There is no recognition there, nor in the grim line of her mouth. Flatly intoned: "You must have me confused with someone else."
Then she pulls the door of the shop open and steps inside, leaving the door to swing shut behind her.

SYS: Richenda Gray rolls an agility FEAT. Result: 62 -- Green

Chenda blinks again, both at the barely-seen snarl and the coolly dimissive look she gets from someone she's sure she knows. Someone she /knows/ she knows! "No, that couldn't be right," she replies, as the girl pulls the door of a shop open and steps inside. "I'd know your face..."
And the door swings, but she catches it, interrupting herself in the process. "Wait!"

She doesn't wait. X approaches the counter and rattles off her order with familiar ease - this is a place she frequents with such regularity that this part of the exchange is a ritual formality. Even the exchange of money for a receipt is handled that way, with the latter being neatly folded and stowed in her wallet. The wallet is stowed in her pocket, both of her hands vanish in her jacket pockets, and she affects a disaffected stance just a few steps from the counter.
But, now, her shoulders are tensed - if subtly so - and she turns her head again to regard her verbal assailant with a narrowed eye. She says nothing further; the expression says everything.

Chenda, seeing the other girl pause at the counter, slows her pace and steps up only after she's completed her order. "Seriously... I'm sure I know you. We went to the same boarding school. My room was right down the hall from yours," she says, keeping her voice politely low.

It's with an irritable reluctance that X pivots on a heel, if only just enough to properly look at the other female. Her mouth is pressed in a thin line, one that makes her lips nearly disappear before she intones a clipped, "Then I would recommend getting your eyesight checked. I did not go to a boarding school." Her gaze briefly shifts away from the other woman and to the window - more people are starting to come out of the woodwork, as it were, though the restaurant remains relatively devoid of life - but her attention returns to her with the next blink.

"Huh?" Chenda looks away, rubs her eyes, and looks back at Laura. "That can't be right. I never forget a face, and yours lived right down the hall from me!" She holds up her hand, ticking off resemblances. "Cynical green eyes, dark hair, whip-snap movements, small, lithe... all you. Besides, I've never met anyone else who moves like you do."

A sniff confirms that her order is well on its way to being finished. X levels her eyes on the other woman, unblinking and cold. Her scrutiny is intense, but brief; details are collected, dissected, and filed away with all of her characteristic efficiency. "Your memory is incorrect." A beat. Two. Then: "Or your hearing and your eyesight are also defective. I have not been to a boarding school. Ever." The last word is dropped heavily, just at the edge of a snarl - a snarl that's reined in, if just barely. Her shoulders remain bunched beneath the jacket, difficult to see for the thickness of the material... but the effect is still tangible, coupled with a mounting, palpable aura of simmering annoyance.

With her memory, Chenda's just not buying that. "Or /your/ memory's incorrect," she differs, frowning. "I'd know that temper anywhere. I know you, but you don't know me, and that's definitely... oh, whatever. It's not like you were that great of a friend, anyway," she finally says, turning to leave.

The door to the restaurant opens and another dark-haired young woman pokes her head in. Green eyes pass over Richenda briefly, before her lips twist into something unreadable - amused, but unreadable nonetheless. She enters the restaurant fully and holds the door open for the exiting party, though her eyes are now solidly locked on the now-mute young woman at the counter.
"Hurry it up. You're late," the taller woman barks. X spares only a fleeting look toward the woman that's making to leave before her attention snaps keenly on the recent arrival. She says nothing - neither a farewell to the departing nor a greeting to the order-barking one - and half-turns toward the counter, where her order is in the last stages of being boxed up and bagged. And Richenda? Might as well not be there at all.

Armand just carefully eats his shrimp and noodles, eyebrow raising as he watches people exit the shop and he looks thoughtful.

Richenda, on her way out, glances at the second green-eyed young woman, frowning thoughtfully. Strange to find two in the same place, especially considering they know each other!
But, she was leaving. So she does, stepping casually past the second girl. "'Scuse me," she murmurs as she passes by, emerging onto the sidewalk outside.

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