Ice-cream and Business
Scene: Friendships grow in strange soil and between unlikely people; and sometimes, they produce very odd fruit. ishtar_marik and NPC Steven Gant spend a little R&R in Central Park, enjoying the sights; or at least that's how things begin. Remember the old saying about how the road to Hell is paved with good intentions?
(Backdated to August 25, 2007.)
Saturday, August 25th, 2007; Cold Stone Creamery, West 72nd Street
Meetings had become almost common place, and each time they managed to comb another part of the city in their efforts to conduct business. In truth it amused Marik seeing as today's venue happened to be the Cold Stone down on 162 West 72nd.
Despite his normal attentiveness to look his most professional, the temperature outside had denied such desires. His overcoat laid draped over his arm while his dress shirt sleeves had been rolled up to the elbow. He'd hope that Steven would arrive soon, so they both could seek the comforts of air conditioning and a growing sweet-tooth.
Both of these waited beyond the glass doors of Cold Stone Creamery. Inside, a familiar figure lounged at one of the improbably-small tables, longish legs tucked underneath his chair. Sound didn't carry well through the door, but a hand-wave conveyed greetings well enough and beckoned Marik inside.
Marik hadn't gave thought that Steven could have already been inside, and when he caught sight of his companion through the glass he nodded and walked inside. The cool rush of conditioned air hit his face and this new found comfort produced a small smile as he walked over to the table where Steven had been sitting. "Good afternoon, Steven," Marik said simply extending his hand.
"Hey, Marik, how's things?" The ex-Californian shook his hand, a smile of his own crooking his lips. "Damn hot out, isn't it?" He stood up, one hand on the back of his small chair. "My treat this time around, okay? You got the coffee last time."
"I'm well thanks. The head is truly intense today. Sorry for the non-professionalism, but a suit is ill-prepared for this type of weather. " Taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, he placed his suit jacket on the back of the chair.
Looking around Marik was surprised Steven managed to even grab a seat in the first place. There was a steady stream of hot patrons wanting the reliefs of ice-cream on the palate. Turning his attention back to Steven he gave him a warm grin. " So how have things been, anything new?"
The other man shrugged, still smiling. Despite his obvious good mood, he looked more than a little tired-- stretched thin, almost; there were faint shadows under the light blue eyes. "Nothing much. Been spending too much time indoors lately; this was a good idea you had. So--" He leaned back, eyeing the line; "Want to eat here, or get the stuff and walk?"
"I can see sitting her my not prove in our interests in the long run, considering the increasing masses of people. So walking should be fine." Marik didn't mind the walk, however he knew that by the time he made it home today, he'd be two shades darker. He always found it funny how fair-skinned individuals did nearly everything for a tan, and he got one without trying.
The line took a few minutes to get through, but when they were done they made their way down the sidewalk towards Central Park less than two blocks away. The 72nd Street entrance opened onto a tree-lined avenue very nearly crowded with pedestrians; hot summer sunlight beat down between the branches, edging everything with heavy gold.
They talked amiably about business, about the security systems that Steven had been setting up; he seemed disinclined to discuss his out-of-state project (whatever it might be) but other than that seemed to be remarkably relaxed, if tired. After a while, ice-cream nearly finished, he tossed his napkin into a wastebin and glanced around. "Want to head for Bethesda?" he asked, meaning the famous terrace.
Taking the last bite of coffee ice-cream and chocolate at the end of the sugar cone, Marik tossed his own napkin in the waste basket. "Sure," he said before letting off a small laugh to himself.
"Hmm?" Steven blinked. "What's so funny?"
"I was just thinking, about how I wouldn't mind more ice-cream. That did more then hit the spot," he said with a grin.
Steven half-shrugged. "Wouldn't mind some myself. Maybe at the Terrace? They sell crepes and coffee, they might sell ice-cream. Or iced-coffee..." He yawned, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Sorry," said the blond and yawned again. "Think I need more sleep. That out-of-town project of mine..." For a moment the good humor drained out of Steven's face, leaving it taught and full of that disturbing blankness that he had shown before, back at his dead father's apartment. It had been less visible as of late, almost as if the fire that had destroyed his family's belongings had also burned away more than merely physical pieces of his past. He shrugged again. "It's been... difficult," he said offhandedly. "I've had a-- subordinate looking into things for me, but..." He hesitated, then frowned. "It needs a personal touch every now and then."
Marik could see the stress on Steven's face, and wondered what could possibly be that taxing. "Is there something I could do to help. No offense, but it's quite evident that times have been less then kind."
They walked on for a few yards before Steven answered; the man visibly hesitated, glancing sidelong at his companion. He was not the sort of person to show uncertainty-- in fact, it was a rare thing for him to be less than confident in public. But now--
"Have you ever wondered if--" Steven stopped, then started again. "Do you ever--" And he paused, obviously at a loss.
Marik was a bit taken back, but his apparent loss of words. He didn't seem the type to be without retort. " Do I ever what?" he said trying to move the words along.
"There's something I need to do," the other man said abruptly in answer, pausing on the path and moving to one side away from the rest of the pedestrians. There was a low wall there; he leaned against it, his back to the warm stone, watching people as they passed. "And I have it planned out, all of it. Everything..." For a second, an odd little smile flickered across Steven's face, one that had something strangely similar in it to that disturbing blankness.
"And it'll work if I just keep to the plan. But--"
And he hesitated again... "Do you ever wonder," he asked slowly, "how things might've been if... they had turned out differently? I mean," he added, and Steven laughed a little forcedly, "it's not like I haven't thought this through. I want it to work, it should work, but I just-- second thoughts, you know?" He hitched one shoulder, frowning. "Guess everybody has them."
"And," he added with another patently false laugh, "it's not like it won't pay off in the end. If I get my way..."
Steven smiled then, a very different smile. "...If I get my way, everything'll be just fine. Just fine, again."
Stepping to the side out of the pedestrians way, Marik looked at Steven and tried to discern what he was trying to say, but it was beyond obvious that whatever it was, he didn't want anyone to find out. So instead of pressuring explanation Marik simply answered his question. " Yes, have been times where I wondered how something would be different."
The other man glanced sideways at him; the smile faded a little into what looked to be genuine curiosity, a more open expression than Steven usually presented. "Did it ever make you change your plans? I mean-- what's done is done, isn't it?"
"I don't think that anything is final unless you say it is. However that's simply my view on things."
Steven was silent; he dropped his gaze to the pavement and said nothing for a long moment, thinking. Then: "...Let's go on, okay?"
* * * * *
They walked further down the path among the summer crowds of bicyclists and joggers; it was hot enough to make sweat bead up and the desire for ice-cream to turn into anticipation. On the left, the statue of Daniel Webster towered over the walkway on his plinth, gazing incongruously at the entrance to the park's Strawberry Fields; sunlight reflected off the bronze Falconer a little further on before the path curved gently northeast towards Bethesda Terrace.
It was always an impressive sight, the Terrace; the carved, carefully-repaired stonework mimicked vines and flowers, birds and animals in high detail-- you could see every feather and trace the veins in every leaf. Stately stairs interspersed with huge urns led their steps downwards towards the enormous fountain that surrounded the most famous statue of all Central Park: the Angel of the Waters...
...which, admittedly, would've looked a lot more impressive without a couple of pigeons perched on her head.
There were only two buskers working the crowd around the fountain today, a young couple playing cello and violin; the open cello-case gave vivid evidence that their luck (or their entertainment skills, at least) had been good. The promised ice-cream vendor was up against the far right wall; "Another line," muttered Steven with a resigned grin. He glanced at Marik and nodded towards the tail-end of the crowd, his earlier good humor apparently restored.
Marik had walked the paths of Central Park a hundred times by now, yet he never found himself bored with it. Despite the heat the day couldn't have been more radiant, and he was sure that days like this was what those love life songs were all about. His eyes widened a little as he caught sight of the line for the ice-cream vendor, and slightly shrugged his shoulders. Lines were to be expected, though he did feel child like for wanting more ice-cream, and allowing himself to do so. Despite his good fortune or providence in his own thinking with economic success he wasn't one to indulge.
Marik followed Steven to the end of the line, and glanced up at the options to choose from. It ended fruitless however since the distance proved too great despite his good vision. Glancing at Steven he noted that his mood had lightened, and he was glad for his sake. Loosening his tie some from around his neck, he grimaced to himself for brief moment. For some reason today was they day he managed to be particularly adverse to the heat. "You must be use to this kind of weather, it's warm constantly in California."
A shrug. "Haven't been there all that often since I moved away when I was a kid, not really... a few trips to see family, I guess." The blond wiped away a trickle of sweat from the side of his neck, his light-colored eyes following a boat on the pond just beyond the Terrace's stone edges. The line moved up a step. "We used to drive out every couple of years, me and my father-- well, right up until we finally got a clue we weren't all that welcome back on the old homestead," he added, one corner of his mouth crooking up. "Last time was, what? 'bout seven years ago, I guess. Sunny California, the Land of Fruits and Nuts..." He laughed. "How about you? I know you said something about a sister a while back; d'you see her much?"
It wasn't a surprising question, but it was a question he wanted to say yes to. "No, I don't see her as often as I'd like. She is a busy women so I simply see her when I can."
Steven gave a half-shrug, that characteristic hike of one shoulder that he used often enough that it was almost a word. "Woman always seem to have some excuse for not being around, don't they? Busy with this, doing that, spending time with friends..." He snorted, nodding towards three young women chatting on the curved stone benches a few feet away, ice-cream in hand. "Look at them... Wonder who they're ditching? You know there's got to be some guys somewhere wondering where they are, right?" The blond shook his head and moved up in the line; one of the young woman had noticed his attention and was now nudging her friends, saying something with her head ducked down and a little smile on her face. The group of women giggled, all of them watching both Steven and Marik now, and Steven looked markedly uneasy. "You can't trust 'em, women."
Marik chuckled " I wouldn't say all women are made of deceit and trickery, Steven." Marik glanced at the girls Steven had made note of, grinned and nodded in their direction. " Women will be women-- perhaps you should go speak to them," Marik said, laughing again in jest.
Dark blond eyebrows drew down; and pale blue eyes went narrow. "Not interested just now," the other man muttered. "But hey, don't let me hold you back, Marik-- knock yourself out." Steven turned away to order his ice-cream, ignoring the trio.
Marik raised and eyebrow to Steven's comment. "It was in jest, Steven, didn't mean to offend."
Another shrug. "No big deal."
Marik's turn was next, and, ice-cream in hand, the two walked slowly around the fountain. The bright sunlight made the jets of spray sheen with faint, almost invisible rainbows; it was hard to keep a bad mood in that kind of setting, even with a New York summer burning through your clothes. Steven apparently had no more of a defense than anyone else against their surroundings and half-smiled at Marik a little apologetically. "Sorry, man-- I can be an asshole sometimes about women in general. Want to head down the Walk?"
"It's alright, Steven. The walk sounds fine," he said, a bit short with his words considering Steven's recent defensiveness.
The walk down the park's long, statuary-strewn avenue was made in silence-- or relative silence, at least, what with the large portion of the city's population that had apparently decided to head for the shade of the Literary Walk's huge trees. The way was crowded; and up ahead--
"Looks like they're filming something again," murmured Steven, breaking the silence.
Cables could be seen snaking into the thickening group of bystanders; lighting-arrays towered overhead, and a number of trucks marked CAST or CREW stood to one side. "Wonder what it is?" asked the blond, absentmindedly licking his fingers. "You hear anything about a new movie being filmed in the Park today?"
"No, actually. I suppose my urban knowledge isn't quite up to date. I should do what I can to --"
A vibration followed by a ring blared from his pocket, and Marik reached down to look at the display. " I should take this," he said quickly before accepting the call and walking a bit away from Steven as to not be rude.
An odd expression flickered over Steven's face-- there was something in it of a kind of cold, close-held anger-- but he nodded shortly and turned away to watch whatever was being filmed, his ice-cream-stained napkin slowly shredding in his clenched hand.
A few minutes later Marik placed his phone back in his pocket and turned back to Steven. "Sorry about that--" Marik stopped mid-sentence when he noted Steven's clutched fist. Steven had been acting too strange for Marik's liking, but had no clue as to why-- what was the problem?
The other man was acting oddly; there was resentment in the set of his shoulders, and his pale blue eyes seemed almost colorless as he watched Marik. Without saying a word, he merely nodded and turned back to stare at the crowd again.
Overhead, the sun seemed to have gone behind a cloud.
"Perhaps we should take a closer look," and without more words Marik took the lead and walked towards the crowd of onlookers.
* * * * *
It was nearly an hour later; the heat had been driven minutely back by a breeze that had decided to visit the park as well, moving the close, warm air along beneath the trees just enough to make a person appreciate the change without being so helpful as to, say, lower the temperature. The two had walked slowly along the wide, shaded pathways in what had been more-or-less a mutual silence; Steven hadn't apparently been interested in talking, and Marik had been puzzled and somewhat disturbed by the man's attitude.
It had only been a phone call, after all; what was his problem?
Content on continuing the silence, Marik turned his head abruptly yet subtly to the left when he heard the sound of laughing girls head in their direction. Upon better inspection Marik noted that they were the same girls from the ice-cream line in the terrace. Perhaps they were more interested in Steven then he would have thought. In truth he was slightly apprehensive for the girls sake, but the only way he could see to intercept this problem was to simply be friendly and hope for a suitable outcome.
"Hello, ladies," he said simply with a small smile as they effectively intercepted both Steven and himself preventing them from walking any further.
Two of the three young women smiled at him a little shyly, hanging back and murmuring tentative greetings; the third one, though, a slightly older woman with short-cropped black hair and a confident expression, tilted her head slightly and stepped closer. "Hello yourself... We noticed you two back at the fountain, and well... thought we'd say hi. You two seem to be on your own," she said, brushing her hair back from her face. "Just out for a day in the park, or waiting for somebody?" Her bold gaze assessed Marik with some interest.
Marik smirked at the woman's confident reply. " Just out enjoying the day. Miss?"
She smiled back; her eyes sparkled, and one of her companions nudged the other. "Us too, it's a pretty day out. Are you both locals?" Her gaze flicked over to Steven, who stood watching with his arms folded. "You sounded kind of-- west coast? Back by the fountain. Darla here, she's from L.A.," and she waved at one of her companions (who blushed, but smiled back in response) "and she thought maybe you might be too." The implied question was obviously aimed at the blond.
"San Bernardino," he said shortly; "A long time ago." Darla's smile faltered a little.
"So what do we owe the pleasure ladies, I'm sure we don't look all that interesting. That and we've seemed to left our manners as well, my name is Marik, and this is Steven," Marik said keeping a small smile on his face. The girls were charming in their own way, and so far Steven hadn't done anything too offensive.
The two shyer women smiled tentatively, hanging back; their more assertive friend showed a dimple as she smiled in return (she really was rather attractive if you went for the aggressive, athletic type) and tilted her head charmingly. "'Marik'; that's kind of unusual; nice to meet you. I'm Rochelle, and the quiet one with us is Sharon... We're in from Newark for the weekend, and we--"
"--usually hang around parks, talking to strangers?" Steven's voice was smooth, with just a hint of sarcasm; he was smiling too now. "That's the sort of thing that can get a woman hurt." He stepped forward, eyes cool despite the friendliness of his expression; the other two women (Darla and Sharon) stepped back automatically, though Rochelle merely blinked. "New York's not the safest place on the planet to talk to... strange men."
"Then maybe you and your friend can keep us safe, hm? At least through lunch?" The brunette's chin came up; she seemed to be amused by the challenge. "I hear there's a nice Chinese place about half a block over on 69th." Her dark eyes returned to Marik's, focusing past Steven, and she dropped one hand to rest on a hip; it was ringless and nicely tanned. "Interested in a little company?"
He had thought too soon when it came to Steven being offensive, but it wasn't in his own nature to be unkind to women. "The offer sounds enticing, Rochelle, but if you don't mind, can I have a moment alone to speak with Steven?"
One of the young woman's eyebrows quirked up, but her expression remained friendly. "Sure," she murmured, drawing back just a little to her friends, the quieter of whom whispered something that made her laugh.
Arms crossed, Steven's own expression was far from friendly: partly cloudy, promising thunderstorms and a chance of unseasonable hail. What was wrong with the man? As he walked a couple of paces away with Marik, he shot a pale-eyed glare back at the three women; "Bimbos," he muttered beneath his breath.
Marik by this point had reached a small level of irritation with Steven's actions. The were completely out of character as he knew them. Instead of continuing to speculate on the matter he'd ask him straight "what exactly is your problem with the girls, and/or the invitation to lunch?" his voice was cool, and his focused his amber-green eyes sharply on Steven.
The other man's own eyes narrowed angrily, and he opened his mouth to reply--
--and paused, an odd, confused look covering his face. Confusion was not something that had ever happened to Steven in Marik's presence very often; he might be rather self-centered and more than occasionally strange, but the ex-Californian almost always seemed to be quite sure of his own mind. This clouded, bewildered expression-- it was new. "I--" he started, then paused and visibly backtracked, frowning. "I didn't--" Another pause.
Then his expression seemed to fade over into a kind of blankness, the same not-thereness that he had worn several times before; this time, though, it flicked off as suddenly as a switch being thrown. "Problem? What problem?" Steven Gant asked calmly, smiling past Marik at the three young women as if they and only they had the power to make his day perfect. "No problem at all. Lunch sounds just great-- and hey, Chinese? Sure; think I know the place you mean, actually... they have great Dim Sum, gotta tell you-- Marik, want to help me show these ladies some New York hospitality?"
And, his smile making his pale blue eyes glitter like thinnest ice, the blond stepped up between Darla and Sharon, chattering away to them both as amiably as if the past few moments had never happened.
* * * * *
The lunch with the three girls was pleasant, very pleasant in truth. Stereotypical lunch date atmosphere with casual flirting, laughing and good food. Though in most minds this sounds like a wonderful afternoon, Marik thought differently. Steven had managed a complete 180, and maintained it through the whole lunch.
Shaking his head slightly he waved a final good-bye to the girls as they signaled back the “call me” sign with their pinkie and thumb fingers. He only grinned, waving the napkin with Rochelle’s number on it and placing it in his pants pocket.
"Dream on," Steven muttered as he turned to walk away beside Marik. "Not damn likely." His expression was still cheerful; it made an odd contrast to what he was saying as he glanced at his companion's expression. "What?"
Marik cocked and eyebrow and gave a small side glance towards Steven " Was it really that bad?"
The other man grimaced, running one hand through his blond hair in a gesture of exasperation.
"Those three harpies? I'm just glad they didn't insist on hanging around any longer than lunch," he answered. "Lights on, nobody home-- bet the bill was higher than all their I.Q.s combined," he remarked, looking at his watch. "They were pretty enough, but I usually like my company to be more--" Catching Marik's expression, his own soured. "You liked those bimbos? Thought you had better taste than that, man."
“It has nothing to do with interest, Steven. Simple common courtesy goes a long way, and that is all it was. The bold one, Rochelle, gave me her number, and I appreciated the gesture; however the likelihood of something past this is remote” Marik said simply, not really interested in the idea of pursuing her or any of the girls. His own personal code about women, lead him to be this way, and it was more than obvious that Steven's and his ideals were vastly different.
The blond shrugged. "Courtesy's not all that common these days; we're in New York, remember? Those women, you can find a dozen like 'em on damn near every corner down in NoHo for twenty bucks a--" At the other's expression, he paused; then Steven shrugged a second time. "Whatever; no big deal, I just... they kind of got in the way, y'know? Irritated me."
Placing his hands in his pockets Marik looked out and gave a small shrug of his own. “It’s how you feel Steven, and that’s fine. Is there something you’d like to do that would perhaps correct your mood?”
The other man snorted. "Not if I want to pay my bills; got to get back to work. Still got that courier job, and they pay extra for Saturday work," he answered resignedly. "But hey, thanks--" and the grin he gave Marik had nothing to show his previous irritation in it at all. "'S been a good day."
Steven clapped one hand on his companion's shoulder, an unusual gesture for him; he rarely touched anyone else. "Take care of yourself, okay, Marik? See you maybe later this week?"
“Understandable--you have a good day as well, Steven” Marik said returning the grin, and making a turn to head back the opposite direction.
The other man raised a blond eyebrow. "Yeah, I will. And... watch out for strange women, will you? They're usually not worth the effort," he added, smiling a little before turning to walk away.
Marik gave a wave back without turning around "Will do."
* * * * *
Sometime past midnight:
It wasn't stalking or anything. Not if you weren't doing it with harmful intent; wasn't that the legal definition? Stalking-- he remembered every word of the legalese from all that reading he had done in the prison library-- it had to be 'likely to cause reasonable fear of material harm to the physical health, safety or property of such person, a member of such person's immediate family or a third party with whom such person is acquainted.' That was the ticket, New York Penal Code 120.45: Stalking in the Fourth Degree.
It paid to know about these things.
And making sure a friend's neighborhood was safe, that wasn't stalking, oh no. New York was a fucking jungle; bad things happened here all the time, like fires... and muggings; anybody could get mugged here, an old woman walking her dog, a man coming home from work, three young and pretty women out for a good time over a summer weekend... anybody at all.
Steven Gant leaned back, shoulders resting against brickwork that still clung to the day's heat; it radiated out into his muscles, ghost-warmth, echoes of the sunlight. Comforting. This was a nice place to kick back and watch the world go by from, just an alcove with a disused doorway at the rear; the door's hinges had been painted over so many times that by now they were just texture. Nobody'd bother him, and he could just stand there and...
...watch.
And make sure his friend was home and safe, not out doing anything stupid like he had three or four times before. That was all.
You took care of the things you valued, really valued-- kept them safe, right? And there was nothing wrong with just watching over them. Hey, that was what the Good Guys did, watched over people... it was just common sense. Not stalking; not as such.
Valuable things, valuable people... there wasn't much difference, not in Steven's eyes.
The way he figured it, there were valuable people and then there was trash. Most of the world was made up of the trash, worthless pieces of humanity so much alike (like those three bimbos in the park, he couldn't even remember their goddamn names) that you not only couldn't tell them apart, you didn't need to. But the valuable ones, the worthwhile ones... you looked after them. They needed it, needed people like him to make sure they didn't go wrong or do stupid shit. Because, bright as they were--
--you couldn't trust anybody on their own. Ordinary people, even the valuable ones, they had no common sense. They needed handling, keeping. You looked after what you valued. Even if you had to get a little rough with your belongings now and then.
...like he had been watching over Red. She was valuable too and he didn't let his belongings stray very far, or at least not for long... though sometimes you had to really go the limit to keep everything safe and secure and under control, 'cause the world was a hard, evil place.
He smiled.
So-- good thing for you both I'm here, yeah? Yeah. What's mine is mine.
Not stalking, no. Just another kind of security work, that was all. Keeping. What else were friends for?
High above in a particular room on a particular floor, the lights blinked out in Marik Ishtar's apartment.
(Backdated to August 25, 2007.)
Saturday, August 25th, 2007; Cold Stone Creamery, West 72nd Street
Meetings had become almost common place, and each time they managed to comb another part of the city in their efforts to conduct business. In truth it amused Marik seeing as today's venue happened to be the Cold Stone down on 162 West 72nd.
Despite his normal attentiveness to look his most professional, the temperature outside had denied such desires. His overcoat laid draped over his arm while his dress shirt sleeves had been rolled up to the elbow. He'd hope that Steven would arrive soon, so they both could seek the comforts of air conditioning and a growing sweet-tooth.
Both of these waited beyond the glass doors of Cold Stone Creamery. Inside, a familiar figure lounged at one of the improbably-small tables, longish legs tucked underneath his chair. Sound didn't carry well through the door, but a hand-wave conveyed greetings well enough and beckoned Marik inside.
Marik hadn't gave thought that Steven could have already been inside, and when he caught sight of his companion through the glass he nodded and walked inside. The cool rush of conditioned air hit his face and this new found comfort produced a small smile as he walked over to the table where Steven had been sitting. "Good afternoon, Steven," Marik said simply extending his hand.
"Hey, Marik, how's things?" The ex-Californian shook his hand, a smile of his own crooking his lips. "Damn hot out, isn't it?" He stood up, one hand on the back of his small chair. "My treat this time around, okay? You got the coffee last time."
"I'm well thanks. The head is truly intense today. Sorry for the non-professionalism, but a suit is ill-prepared for this type of weather. " Taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, he placed his suit jacket on the back of the chair.
Looking around Marik was surprised Steven managed to even grab a seat in the first place. There was a steady stream of hot patrons wanting the reliefs of ice-cream on the palate. Turning his attention back to Steven he gave him a warm grin. " So how have things been, anything new?"
The other man shrugged, still smiling. Despite his obvious good mood, he looked more than a little tired-- stretched thin, almost; there were faint shadows under the light blue eyes. "Nothing much. Been spending too much time indoors lately; this was a good idea you had. So--" He leaned back, eyeing the line; "Want to eat here, or get the stuff and walk?"
"I can see sitting her my not prove in our interests in the long run, considering the increasing masses of people. So walking should be fine." Marik didn't mind the walk, however he knew that by the time he made it home today, he'd be two shades darker. He always found it funny how fair-skinned individuals did nearly everything for a tan, and he got one without trying.
The line took a few minutes to get through, but when they were done they made their way down the sidewalk towards Central Park less than two blocks away. The 72nd Street entrance opened onto a tree-lined avenue very nearly crowded with pedestrians; hot summer sunlight beat down between the branches, edging everything with heavy gold.
They talked amiably about business, about the security systems that Steven had been setting up; he seemed disinclined to discuss his out-of-state project (whatever it might be) but other than that seemed to be remarkably relaxed, if tired. After a while, ice-cream nearly finished, he tossed his napkin into a wastebin and glanced around. "Want to head for Bethesda?" he asked, meaning the famous terrace.
Taking the last bite of coffee ice-cream and chocolate at the end of the sugar cone, Marik tossed his own napkin in the waste basket. "Sure," he said before letting off a small laugh to himself.
"Hmm?" Steven blinked. "What's so funny?"
"I was just thinking, about how I wouldn't mind more ice-cream. That did more then hit the spot," he said with a grin.
Steven half-shrugged. "Wouldn't mind some myself. Maybe at the Terrace? They sell crepes and coffee, they might sell ice-cream. Or iced-coffee..." He yawned, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Sorry," said the blond and yawned again. "Think I need more sleep. That out-of-town project of mine..." For a moment the good humor drained out of Steven's face, leaving it taught and full of that disturbing blankness that he had shown before, back at his dead father's apartment. It had been less visible as of late, almost as if the fire that had destroyed his family's belongings had also burned away more than merely physical pieces of his past. He shrugged again. "It's been... difficult," he said offhandedly. "I've had a-- subordinate looking into things for me, but..." He hesitated, then frowned. "It needs a personal touch every now and then."
Marik could see the stress on Steven's face, and wondered what could possibly be that taxing. "Is there something I could do to help. No offense, but it's quite evident that times have been less then kind."
They walked on for a few yards before Steven answered; the man visibly hesitated, glancing sidelong at his companion. He was not the sort of person to show uncertainty-- in fact, it was a rare thing for him to be less than confident in public. But now--
"Have you ever wondered if--" Steven stopped, then started again. "Do you ever--" And he paused, obviously at a loss.
Marik was a bit taken back, but his apparent loss of words. He didn't seem the type to be without retort. " Do I ever what?" he said trying to move the words along.
"There's something I need to do," the other man said abruptly in answer, pausing on the path and moving to one side away from the rest of the pedestrians. There was a low wall there; he leaned against it, his back to the warm stone, watching people as they passed. "And I have it planned out, all of it. Everything..." For a second, an odd little smile flickered across Steven's face, one that had something strangely similar in it to that disturbing blankness.
"And it'll work if I just keep to the plan. But--"
And he hesitated again... "Do you ever wonder," he asked slowly, "how things might've been if... they had turned out differently? I mean," he added, and Steven laughed a little forcedly, "it's not like I haven't thought this through. I want it to work, it should work, but I just-- second thoughts, you know?" He hitched one shoulder, frowning. "Guess everybody has them."
"And," he added with another patently false laugh, "it's not like it won't pay off in the end. If I get my way..."
Steven smiled then, a very different smile. "...If I get my way, everything'll be just fine. Just fine, again."
Stepping to the side out of the pedestrians way, Marik looked at Steven and tried to discern what he was trying to say, but it was beyond obvious that whatever it was, he didn't want anyone to find out. So instead of pressuring explanation Marik simply answered his question. " Yes, have been times where I wondered how something would be different."
The other man glanced sideways at him; the smile faded a little into what looked to be genuine curiosity, a more open expression than Steven usually presented. "Did it ever make you change your plans? I mean-- what's done is done, isn't it?"
"I don't think that anything is final unless you say it is. However that's simply my view on things."
Steven was silent; he dropped his gaze to the pavement and said nothing for a long moment, thinking. Then: "...Let's go on, okay?"
* * * * *
They walked further down the path among the summer crowds of bicyclists and joggers; it was hot enough to make sweat bead up and the desire for ice-cream to turn into anticipation. On the left, the statue of Daniel Webster towered over the walkway on his plinth, gazing incongruously at the entrance to the park's Strawberry Fields; sunlight reflected off the bronze Falconer a little further on before the path curved gently northeast towards Bethesda Terrace.
It was always an impressive sight, the Terrace; the carved, carefully-repaired stonework mimicked vines and flowers, birds and animals in high detail-- you could see every feather and trace the veins in every leaf. Stately stairs interspersed with huge urns led their steps downwards towards the enormous fountain that surrounded the most famous statue of all Central Park: the Angel of the Waters...
...which, admittedly, would've looked a lot more impressive without a couple of pigeons perched on her head.
There were only two buskers working the crowd around the fountain today, a young couple playing cello and violin; the open cello-case gave vivid evidence that their luck (or their entertainment skills, at least) had been good. The promised ice-cream vendor was up against the far right wall; "Another line," muttered Steven with a resigned grin. He glanced at Marik and nodded towards the tail-end of the crowd, his earlier good humor apparently restored.
Marik had walked the paths of Central Park a hundred times by now, yet he never found himself bored with it. Despite the heat the day couldn't have been more radiant, and he was sure that days like this was what those love life songs were all about. His eyes widened a little as he caught sight of the line for the ice-cream vendor, and slightly shrugged his shoulders. Lines were to be expected, though he did feel child like for wanting more ice-cream, and allowing himself to do so. Despite his good fortune or providence in his own thinking with economic success he wasn't one to indulge.
Marik followed Steven to the end of the line, and glanced up at the options to choose from. It ended fruitless however since the distance proved too great despite his good vision. Glancing at Steven he noted that his mood had lightened, and he was glad for his sake. Loosening his tie some from around his neck, he grimaced to himself for brief moment. For some reason today was they day he managed to be particularly adverse to the heat. "You must be use to this kind of weather, it's warm constantly in California."
A shrug. "Haven't been there all that often since I moved away when I was a kid, not really... a few trips to see family, I guess." The blond wiped away a trickle of sweat from the side of his neck, his light-colored eyes following a boat on the pond just beyond the Terrace's stone edges. The line moved up a step. "We used to drive out every couple of years, me and my father-- well, right up until we finally got a clue we weren't all that welcome back on the old homestead," he added, one corner of his mouth crooking up. "Last time was, what? 'bout seven years ago, I guess. Sunny California, the Land of Fruits and Nuts..." He laughed. "How about you? I know you said something about a sister a while back; d'you see her much?"
It wasn't a surprising question, but it was a question he wanted to say yes to. "No, I don't see her as often as I'd like. She is a busy women so I simply see her when I can."
Steven gave a half-shrug, that characteristic hike of one shoulder that he used often enough that it was almost a word. "Woman always seem to have some excuse for not being around, don't they? Busy with this, doing that, spending time with friends..." He snorted, nodding towards three young women chatting on the curved stone benches a few feet away, ice-cream in hand. "Look at them... Wonder who they're ditching? You know there's got to be some guys somewhere wondering where they are, right?" The blond shook his head and moved up in the line; one of the young woman had noticed his attention and was now nudging her friends, saying something with her head ducked down and a little smile on her face. The group of women giggled, all of them watching both Steven and Marik now, and Steven looked markedly uneasy. "You can't trust 'em, women."
Marik chuckled " I wouldn't say all women are made of deceit and trickery, Steven." Marik glanced at the girls Steven had made note of, grinned and nodded in their direction. " Women will be women-- perhaps you should go speak to them," Marik said, laughing again in jest.
Dark blond eyebrows drew down; and pale blue eyes went narrow. "Not interested just now," the other man muttered. "But hey, don't let me hold you back, Marik-- knock yourself out." Steven turned away to order his ice-cream, ignoring the trio.
Marik raised and eyebrow to Steven's comment. "It was in jest, Steven, didn't mean to offend."
Another shrug. "No big deal."
Marik's turn was next, and, ice-cream in hand, the two walked slowly around the fountain. The bright sunlight made the jets of spray sheen with faint, almost invisible rainbows; it was hard to keep a bad mood in that kind of setting, even with a New York summer burning through your clothes. Steven apparently had no more of a defense than anyone else against their surroundings and half-smiled at Marik a little apologetically. "Sorry, man-- I can be an asshole sometimes about women in general. Want to head down the Walk?"
"It's alright, Steven. The walk sounds fine," he said, a bit short with his words considering Steven's recent defensiveness.
The walk down the park's long, statuary-strewn avenue was made in silence-- or relative silence, at least, what with the large portion of the city's population that had apparently decided to head for the shade of the Literary Walk's huge trees. The way was crowded; and up ahead--
"Looks like they're filming something again," murmured Steven, breaking the silence.
Cables could be seen snaking into the thickening group of bystanders; lighting-arrays towered overhead, and a number of trucks marked CAST or CREW stood to one side. "Wonder what it is?" asked the blond, absentmindedly licking his fingers. "You hear anything about a new movie being filmed in the Park today?"
"No, actually. I suppose my urban knowledge isn't quite up to date. I should do what I can to --"
A vibration followed by a ring blared from his pocket, and Marik reached down to look at the display. " I should take this," he said quickly before accepting the call and walking a bit away from Steven as to not be rude.
An odd expression flickered over Steven's face-- there was something in it of a kind of cold, close-held anger-- but he nodded shortly and turned away to watch whatever was being filmed, his ice-cream-stained napkin slowly shredding in his clenched hand.
A few minutes later Marik placed his phone back in his pocket and turned back to Steven. "Sorry about that--" Marik stopped mid-sentence when he noted Steven's clutched fist. Steven had been acting too strange for Marik's liking, but had no clue as to why-- what was the problem?
The other man was acting oddly; there was resentment in the set of his shoulders, and his pale blue eyes seemed almost colorless as he watched Marik. Without saying a word, he merely nodded and turned back to stare at the crowd again.
Overhead, the sun seemed to have gone behind a cloud.
"Perhaps we should take a closer look," and without more words Marik took the lead and walked towards the crowd of onlookers.
* * * * *
It was nearly an hour later; the heat had been driven minutely back by a breeze that had decided to visit the park as well, moving the close, warm air along beneath the trees just enough to make a person appreciate the change without being so helpful as to, say, lower the temperature. The two had walked slowly along the wide, shaded pathways in what had been more-or-less a mutual silence; Steven hadn't apparently been interested in talking, and Marik had been puzzled and somewhat disturbed by the man's attitude.
It had only been a phone call, after all; what was his problem?
Content on continuing the silence, Marik turned his head abruptly yet subtly to the left when he heard the sound of laughing girls head in their direction. Upon better inspection Marik noted that they were the same girls from the ice-cream line in the terrace. Perhaps they were more interested in Steven then he would have thought. In truth he was slightly apprehensive for the girls sake, but the only way he could see to intercept this problem was to simply be friendly and hope for a suitable outcome.
"Hello, ladies," he said simply with a small smile as they effectively intercepted both Steven and himself preventing them from walking any further.
Two of the three young women smiled at him a little shyly, hanging back and murmuring tentative greetings; the third one, though, a slightly older woman with short-cropped black hair and a confident expression, tilted her head slightly and stepped closer. "Hello yourself... We noticed you two back at the fountain, and well... thought we'd say hi. You two seem to be on your own," she said, brushing her hair back from her face. "Just out for a day in the park, or waiting for somebody?" Her bold gaze assessed Marik with some interest.
Marik smirked at the woman's confident reply. " Just out enjoying the day. Miss?"
She smiled back; her eyes sparkled, and one of her companions nudged the other. "Us too, it's a pretty day out. Are you both locals?" Her gaze flicked over to Steven, who stood watching with his arms folded. "You sounded kind of-- west coast? Back by the fountain. Darla here, she's from L.A.," and she waved at one of her companions (who blushed, but smiled back in response) "and she thought maybe you might be too." The implied question was obviously aimed at the blond.
"San Bernardino," he said shortly; "A long time ago." Darla's smile faltered a little.
"So what do we owe the pleasure ladies, I'm sure we don't look all that interesting. That and we've seemed to left our manners as well, my name is Marik, and this is Steven," Marik said keeping a small smile on his face. The girls were charming in their own way, and so far Steven hadn't done anything too offensive.
The two shyer women smiled tentatively, hanging back; their more assertive friend showed a dimple as she smiled in return (she really was rather attractive if you went for the aggressive, athletic type) and tilted her head charmingly. "'Marik'; that's kind of unusual; nice to meet you. I'm Rochelle, and the quiet one with us is Sharon... We're in from Newark for the weekend, and we--"
"--usually hang around parks, talking to strangers?" Steven's voice was smooth, with just a hint of sarcasm; he was smiling too now. "That's the sort of thing that can get a woman hurt." He stepped forward, eyes cool despite the friendliness of his expression; the other two women (Darla and Sharon) stepped back automatically, though Rochelle merely blinked. "New York's not the safest place on the planet to talk to... strange men."
"Then maybe you and your friend can keep us safe, hm? At least through lunch?" The brunette's chin came up; she seemed to be amused by the challenge. "I hear there's a nice Chinese place about half a block over on 69th." Her dark eyes returned to Marik's, focusing past Steven, and she dropped one hand to rest on a hip; it was ringless and nicely tanned. "Interested in a little company?"
He had thought too soon when it came to Steven being offensive, but it wasn't in his own nature to be unkind to women. "The offer sounds enticing, Rochelle, but if you don't mind, can I have a moment alone to speak with Steven?"
One of the young woman's eyebrows quirked up, but her expression remained friendly. "Sure," she murmured, drawing back just a little to her friends, the quieter of whom whispered something that made her laugh.
Arms crossed, Steven's own expression was far from friendly: partly cloudy, promising thunderstorms and a chance of unseasonable hail. What was wrong with the man? As he walked a couple of paces away with Marik, he shot a pale-eyed glare back at the three women; "Bimbos," he muttered beneath his breath.
Marik by this point had reached a small level of irritation with Steven's actions. The were completely out of character as he knew them. Instead of continuing to speculate on the matter he'd ask him straight "what exactly is your problem with the girls, and/or the invitation to lunch?" his voice was cool, and his focused his amber-green eyes sharply on Steven.
The other man's own eyes narrowed angrily, and he opened his mouth to reply--
--and paused, an odd, confused look covering his face. Confusion was not something that had ever happened to Steven in Marik's presence very often; he might be rather self-centered and more than occasionally strange, but the ex-Californian almost always seemed to be quite sure of his own mind. This clouded, bewildered expression-- it was new. "I--" he started, then paused and visibly backtracked, frowning. "I didn't--" Another pause.
Then his expression seemed to fade over into a kind of blankness, the same not-thereness that he had worn several times before; this time, though, it flicked off as suddenly as a switch being thrown. "Problem? What problem?" Steven Gant asked calmly, smiling past Marik at the three young women as if they and only they had the power to make his day perfect. "No problem at all. Lunch sounds just great-- and hey, Chinese? Sure; think I know the place you mean, actually... they have great Dim Sum, gotta tell you-- Marik, want to help me show these ladies some New York hospitality?"
And, his smile making his pale blue eyes glitter like thinnest ice, the blond stepped up between Darla and Sharon, chattering away to them both as amiably as if the past few moments had never happened.
* * * * *
The lunch with the three girls was pleasant, very pleasant in truth. Stereotypical lunch date atmosphere with casual flirting, laughing and good food. Though in most minds this sounds like a wonderful afternoon, Marik thought differently. Steven had managed a complete 180, and maintained it through the whole lunch.
Shaking his head slightly he waved a final good-bye to the girls as they signaled back the “call me” sign with their pinkie and thumb fingers. He only grinned, waving the napkin with Rochelle’s number on it and placing it in his pants pocket.
"Dream on," Steven muttered as he turned to walk away beside Marik. "Not damn likely." His expression was still cheerful; it made an odd contrast to what he was saying as he glanced at his companion's expression. "What?"
Marik cocked and eyebrow and gave a small side glance towards Steven " Was it really that bad?"
The other man grimaced, running one hand through his blond hair in a gesture of exasperation.
"Those three harpies? I'm just glad they didn't insist on hanging around any longer than lunch," he answered. "Lights on, nobody home-- bet the bill was higher than all their I.Q.s combined," he remarked, looking at his watch. "They were pretty enough, but I usually like my company to be more--" Catching Marik's expression, his own soured. "You liked those bimbos? Thought you had better taste than that, man."
“It has nothing to do with interest, Steven. Simple common courtesy goes a long way, and that is all it was. The bold one, Rochelle, gave me her number, and I appreciated the gesture; however the likelihood of something past this is remote” Marik said simply, not really interested in the idea of pursuing her or any of the girls. His own personal code about women, lead him to be this way, and it was more than obvious that Steven's and his ideals were vastly different.
The blond shrugged. "Courtesy's not all that common these days; we're in New York, remember? Those women, you can find a dozen like 'em on damn near every corner down in NoHo for twenty bucks a--" At the other's expression, he paused; then Steven shrugged a second time. "Whatever; no big deal, I just... they kind of got in the way, y'know? Irritated me."
Placing his hands in his pockets Marik looked out and gave a small shrug of his own. “It’s how you feel Steven, and that’s fine. Is there something you’d like to do that would perhaps correct your mood?”
The other man snorted. "Not if I want to pay my bills; got to get back to work. Still got that courier job, and they pay extra for Saturday work," he answered resignedly. "But hey, thanks--" and the grin he gave Marik had nothing to show his previous irritation in it at all. "'S been a good day."
Steven clapped one hand on his companion's shoulder, an unusual gesture for him; he rarely touched anyone else. "Take care of yourself, okay, Marik? See you maybe later this week?"
“Understandable--you have a good day as well, Steven” Marik said returning the grin, and making a turn to head back the opposite direction.
The other man raised a blond eyebrow. "Yeah, I will. And... watch out for strange women, will you? They're usually not worth the effort," he added, smiling a little before turning to walk away.
Marik gave a wave back without turning around "Will do."
* * * * *
Sometime past midnight:
It wasn't stalking or anything. Not if you weren't doing it with harmful intent; wasn't that the legal definition? Stalking-- he remembered every word of the legalese from all that reading he had done in the prison library-- it had to be 'likely to cause reasonable fear of material harm to the physical health, safety or property of such person, a member of such person's immediate family or a third party with whom such person is acquainted.' That was the ticket, New York Penal Code 120.45: Stalking in the Fourth Degree.
It paid to know about these things.
And making sure a friend's neighborhood was safe, that wasn't stalking, oh no. New York was a fucking jungle; bad things happened here all the time, like fires... and muggings; anybody could get mugged here, an old woman walking her dog, a man coming home from work, three young and pretty women out for a good time over a summer weekend... anybody at all.
Steven Gant leaned back, shoulders resting against brickwork that still clung to the day's heat; it radiated out into his muscles, ghost-warmth, echoes of the sunlight. Comforting. This was a nice place to kick back and watch the world go by from, just an alcove with a disused doorway at the rear; the door's hinges had been painted over so many times that by now they were just texture. Nobody'd bother him, and he could just stand there and...
...watch.
And make sure his friend was home and safe, not out doing anything stupid like he had three or four times before. That was all.
You took care of the things you valued, really valued-- kept them safe, right? And there was nothing wrong with just watching over them. Hey, that was what the Good Guys did, watched over people... it was just common sense. Not stalking; not as such.
Valuable things, valuable people... there wasn't much difference, not in Steven's eyes.
The way he figured it, there were valuable people and then there was trash. Most of the world was made up of the trash, worthless pieces of humanity so much alike (like those three bimbos in the park, he couldn't even remember their goddamn names) that you not only couldn't tell them apart, you didn't need to. But the valuable ones, the worthwhile ones... you looked after them. They needed it, needed people like him to make sure they didn't go wrong or do stupid shit. Because, bright as they were--
--you couldn't trust anybody on their own. Ordinary people, even the valuable ones, they had no common sense. They needed handling, keeping. You looked after what you valued. Even if you had to get a little rough with your belongings now and then.
...like he had been watching over Red. She was valuable too and he didn't let his belongings stray very far, or at least not for long... though sometimes you had to really go the limit to keep everything safe and secure and under control, 'cause the world was a hard, evil place.
He smiled.
So-- good thing for you both I'm here, yeah? Yeah. What's mine is mine.
Not stalking, no. Just another kind of security work, that was all. Keeping. What else were friends for?
High above in a particular room on a particular floor, the lights blinked out in Marik Ishtar's apartment.