What begins with a bad tiding and ends with an eye trick?
WHO: EDWARD and NORMAN.
WHERE: Il Mulino.
WHEN: Wednesday May 11th, 2011.
WARNINGS: Nothing.
SUMMARY: Norman has an agenda and an Italian menu. Eddie is fifteen and hungry for power.
FORMAT: Paragraph.
He couldn't deny his anxiety. It was a touch electrifying, meeting a strange man in a strange land and getting Italian food out of it. And yet, there was something so familiar about the situation -- as if he was owed this But as he walked down the swankier streets of the City, Eddie felt a little foreign to the whole atmosphere. He wanted this, definitely, he wanted this power. Norman Osborn sounded like he knew what he was talking about, after all. He had control, good presentation.
And presentation was everything, wasn't it?
Eddie glanced down at his own worn clothing, tsking at the damaged cuffs of his jeans and scuffed toes of his tennis shoes. He didn't have the glaze of appearance yet, and he knew it. The truth of the matter brought a flush to his cheeks, briefly, before he simply gritted his teeth and strolled on, hands in pockets.
He knew his materialistic presentation wouldn't impress Norman. Good thing Eddie had an intellectual profile crafted to impress. He held his communicator in hand, staring at it a moment before pressing a contact.
"Norman?"
WHERE: Il Mulino.
WHEN: Wednesday May 11th, 2011.
WARNINGS: Nothing.
SUMMARY: Norman has an agenda and an Italian menu. Eddie is fifteen and hungry for power.
FORMAT: Paragraph.
He couldn't deny his anxiety. It was a touch electrifying, meeting a strange man in a strange land and getting Italian food out of it. And yet, there was something so familiar about the situation -- as if he was owed this But as he walked down the swankier streets of the City, Eddie felt a little foreign to the whole atmosphere. He wanted this, definitely, he wanted this power. Norman Osborn sounded like he knew what he was talking about, after all. He had control, good presentation.
And presentation was everything, wasn't it?
Eddie glanced down at his own worn clothing, tsking at the damaged cuffs of his jeans and scuffed toes of his tennis shoes. He didn't have the glaze of appearance yet, and he knew it. The truth of the matter brought a flush to his cheeks, briefly, before he simply gritted his teeth and strolled on, hands in pockets.
He knew his materialistic presentation wouldn't impress Norman. Good thing Eddie had an intellectual profile crafted to impress. He held his communicator in hand, staring at it a moment before pressing a contact.
"Norman?"