"I was just thinking, it's like stepping into the common room." She refrains from using the term Nexus, if only because she's unsure to what level she should mind herself now that they're outside of the apartment.
Myra keeps her head turned to look out the window as they meander along the streets, and she watches the colorful plumes of hair pass by, hears the loud bass of boomboxes and car stereos up into her teeth, and tries to take in the overload of information. Indeed as they get closer to The Village, their numbers only increase, and she realizes she does indeed fit in, even if she's tried to be more conservative about her dress code.
"From what I understand, they seem to almost encourage that sort of activity, if anything because it's against the law." She sounds almost saddened, when she sees yet another boombox and feels the courage to ask a simple question.
"I never saw those in the book I read. What are the, um..." She feels so primitive trying to describe a boombox. "What do they call the radios they're all carrying around?" Fortunately, she's half right about that term at least, as most of them are tuned to similar radio stations, if they're not playing a tape.
It should be safe enough to speak in the car, although they may want the windows down due to the temperatures of early July. The Shadow merely nods, negotiating his way around the cabs just as deftly as they move around the other cars, pedestrians, and maddened bike couriers.
"Boomboxes. Radio and casette player..." He hesitates there, as he searches for a way to explain casette tapes to a woman who knows only primitive records. "Casettes are small, but they work a little like a compact film reel, for just sound." He'll have to show her his stereo later, simply as a teaching tool. Unfortunately he keeps little music around, as it would only be a distraction. "Just don't ask me about the music. There are some things even I can't fathom." He smirks very faintly, and finds a parking space with a meter.
"It does seem a bit on the loud side." She watches young pedestrians run across the street after each other around them, and when he parks, she takes her own initiative, getting out of the car before he can hold her door for her. She feels rude, but she's noticed that people seem to just empty out of cars in a pell-mell fashion. A few boys on the sidewalk pause as she gets out of the car, eying the new arrival, but their gaze quickly focuses on The Shadow as he stands tall from the vehicle, and they move on their way. "I think you just doubled as a body guard." She turns to The Shadow once the boys are out of earshot.
"It's not the volume, it's the screaming." She's liable to understand what she means whenever she hears heavy metal music.
If he is startled by her hurrying out of the car, he makes no show of it. He takes his time getting out, retrieving the cane and moving with a hint of stiffness that he does not truly feel. At her comment, he raises an eyebrow, regarding her across the top of the car. "Hm. Lock it, would you? I'd like it to still be here later." He comes to join her on the sidewalk, and offers his arm again, but seems ready to let her lead the way. "Don't buy anything, and don't give money to panhandlers." There is something of the tone of a peevish old man there, but she's likely to sense it is largely for show.
Myra looks down at the door and pushes the lock down before shutting it with a gentle shove.
"Scrooge." She gives his elbow a playful, gentle tug that she hopes doesn't jostle his shoulder. She still takes his offered elbow though, and walks in stride with him, the familiar streets filled with unfamiliar sights and sounds.
Even that faintest of gestures results in a soft wheeze, but his face does not betray any pain. Instead he smirks very slightly, and his eyes glimmer with amusement. It isn't that he begrudges anyone the money, but society has changed. The reason for his warning will quickly become clear, as they're accosted by sidewalk table venders hawking 'genuine' Rolex watches, junky jewelry, sneakers, and an assortment of other goods. There are myriad rythms from boomboxes, and a group of teens gathered about a square of cardboard on the ground, taking turns doing athletic gyrations on it. The Shadow strolls along at an easy place, appearing to pay no particular attention to anything, while keeping half an eye on the reflections in the shop windows.
She makes a note not to cause him to wheeze again. Every time he does, she feels guilty.
Myra keeps her 'gawking' limited to a disinterested gaze that allows her eyes to linger long enough to take in what she sees in the best detail she can, and then quickly move on to the next thing without looking surprised or curious.
She eventually does hear what The Shadow meant by the screaming, and gives The Shadow a look that seems both apologetic, and amused at the same time.
"They'd sell you a box to dance on if they could." She remarks as they pass another group of dancers, and a vendor that calls Myra 'sweetheart' as he tries to catch her attention with cheap watches and bracelets. At one point Myra finds herself moving her head ever so slightly to the beat of song as they approach its source, but doesn't stop the motion, as most others passing by seem to be doing the same thing anyways. So the culture didn't appear a total wash, at least they had occasional songs that were appealing, even to someone with her antiquated tastes.
They pass by a music store and Myra smiles as she notices all the different hair styles present, and wonders how exactly one gets a Mohawk to stand up so tall without flopping over. She sees a sign that says Sale: Tapes and sees a picture of a cassette tape, with a table of them beneath. At least now she knows what they look like.
"So, anything in particular you'd like to see?" The question is really for herself, but in the character of Menz, it's the closest she can come to asking if they have any specific location to visit or if they'll just keep window shopping. He said he didn't have a plan for their day, so she considered that he might just have them wander around The Village until noon, and then go to Chinatown.
There is an ever-present wheeze, in fact, but soft enough that there isn't slightest chance of it being heard amidst the noise of the street. He has noted her gaze, casual but widely observant, and allows her to simply take in the sights. His own attention has been very slightly distracted, although he does tend to watch the windows. When she speaks, he is roused from whatever has been occupying his attention. "Hmm? Just taking in the sights, really. It's this busy at night, too..." There are a number of nightclubs scattered along the street, among the music and clothing shops.
There is also someone coming up fast behind them on a skateboard, although it will hardly be the first skater she's seen on the streets. The noise of the wheels is lost against the general background noise, of course. Without breaking stride, The Shadow jabs his cane down very hard as the skateboarder is drawing level.
Because he's hit the front edge of the skateboard, it makes a spectacular flip. Because the skateboarder crouched at the last minute, they go tumbling just a couple of feet in front of him. "Hey man, my board! I need that!" The teenager has to scramble after the skateboard because it's trying to roll off through the crowd, and there's definitely some jeering happening.
The teen stands up after catching the skateboard, face flushed. The Shadow is a mean old man. "That was wicked! I was watching for your arm."
Myra blinks, completely surprised by The Shadow's sudden action, and uncertain as to the meaning behind it. The skateboarder tumbles before them in a curious display and retrieves their skateboard. She watches them with a wary glare, loosening her grip on his arm so they can both be ready should the kid try anything silly. She keeps quiet for the time being.
Although he is not oblivious to the interest of the passers-by in the developing situation, The Shadow makes a show of ignoring them. "You followed us, all the way from the apartments." It is clearly not a question, and he frowns mildly, fixing a withering gaze on the teenager before them. Myra may observe there is no tension in his frame, and he is holding the cane casually once more. Evidently he expects no real trouble from the newcomer, but he is clearly annoyed.
"Nothing better to do." The teenager shrugs and watches Myra. Okay, it might be partly to avoid The Shadow's eyes, but there's some real interest there too. "Anyway, B. said you'd want me for stuff later." The teenager is dressed pretty conservative compared to some of the other kids around, practical clothes for skateboarding and not getting snagged on anything. Short dark hair squashed under a baseball cap that's on backwards, and checkered sneakers with bright yellow laces.
Myra raises an eyebrow at the teenager, gives a glance to The Shadow as if to ask how he knew the skateboarder who apparently had little better to do than trail them just for fun. She didn't expect any answer, but she let go of his arm, realizing he expected no trouble, and set her hands on her hips, cocking them to a side in an annoyed manner, her bangles jingling gently.
"Really..." She keeps her voice quieter than The Shadow's, it's not her intention to be rude and interject, but she can't be a silent statue either.
It would be preferable to dissipate the attentions of the crowd as quickly as possible, and as aggravated as he may be, The Shadow is not feeling up to arguments this morning. He massages his temples briefly, now that his arm is free of Myra's. It is a show of annoyance, but the feeling is quite genuine. "As I imagine you're going to make yourself difficult to get rid of... This is my niece, Helen Menz. She's new in town."
He gives a sigh that ends in a cough, and it takes some effort to prevent a further fit of coughing and wheezing from the resulting pain. The situation is embarrassing enough without the addition of exposing his infirmity on the street. His glance to Myra is meaningful, if clearly frustrated at the situation. "This is Chaz Walters, She runs errands for me." It is his hope that this peaceable exchange will be sufficient to disourage the onlookers.
Oh, that's subtle. Chaz is watching the crowd too, and since they seem to know each other and nobody's yelling, they've pretty much lost other people's interest. "Hey." The teenager puts out a hand in a fingerless glove for Myra, but grins at the Shadow. "How long's she been your niece?"
Come on, she's not stupid.
Most people, the first time they see Chaz, see a teenage boy. Maybe sixteen or so, too young to dream of shaving at least. Usually Chaz watches them for that moment when the penny drops and they notice there's a little bit of chest and hips, but the Shadow's kind of robbed her of that game.
"For the last 28 years." Helen grabs Chaz's hand in a firm shake that telegraphs a wary annoyance, as if her voice hadn't expressed displeasure at the girl's remark already. To Chaz's observations, she probably looks just shy of 28. "So you're one of the ones that helps around the place? We'll definitely be working together. I'm going to be his secretary until I can get a job, and my own place."
Myra keeps her head turned to look out the window as they meander along the streets, and she watches the colorful plumes of hair pass by, hears the loud bass of boomboxes and car stereos up into her teeth, and tries to take in the overload of information. Indeed as they get closer to The Village, their numbers only increase, and she realizes she does indeed fit in, even if she's tried to be more conservative about her dress code.
"From what I understand, they seem to almost encourage that sort of activity, if anything because it's against the law." She sounds almost saddened, when she sees yet another boombox and feels the courage to ask a simple question.
"I never saw those in the book I read. What are the, um..." She feels so primitive trying to describe a boombox. "What do they call the radios they're all carrying around?" Fortunately, she's half right about that term at least, as most of them are tuned to similar radio stations, if they're not playing a tape.
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"Boomboxes. Radio and casette player..." He hesitates there, as he searches for a way to explain casette tapes to a woman who knows only primitive records. "Casettes are small, but they work a little like a compact film reel, for just sound." He'll have to show her his stereo later, simply as a teaching tool. Unfortunately he keeps little music around, as it would only be a distraction. "Just don't ask me about the music. There are some things even I can't fathom." He smirks very faintly, and finds a parking space with a meter.
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"It does seem a bit on the loud side." She watches young pedestrians run across the street after each other around them, and when he parks, she takes her own initiative, getting out of the car before he can hold her door for her. She feels rude, but she's noticed that people seem to just empty out of cars in a pell-mell fashion. A few boys on the sidewalk pause as she gets out of the car, eying the new arrival, but their gaze quickly focuses on The Shadow as he stands tall from the vehicle, and they move on their way. "I think you just doubled as a body guard." She turns to The Shadow once the boys are out of earshot.
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If he is startled by her hurrying out of the car, he makes no show of it. He takes his time getting out, retrieving the cane and moving with a hint of stiffness that he does not truly feel. At her comment, he raises an eyebrow, regarding her across the top of the car. "Hm. Lock it, would you? I'd like it to still be here later." He comes to join her on the sidewalk, and offers his arm again, but seems ready to let her lead the way. "Don't buy anything, and don't give money to panhandlers." There is something of the tone of a peevish old man there, but she's likely to sense it is largely for show.
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"Scrooge." She gives his elbow a playful, gentle tug that she hopes doesn't jostle his shoulder. She still takes his offered elbow though, and walks in stride with him, the familiar streets filled with unfamiliar sights and sounds.
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Myra keeps her 'gawking' limited to a disinterested gaze that allows her eyes to linger long enough to take in what she sees in the best detail she can, and then quickly move on to the next thing without looking surprised or curious.
She eventually does hear what The Shadow meant by the screaming, and gives The Shadow a look that seems both apologetic, and amused at the same time.
"They'd sell you a box to dance on if they could." She remarks as they pass another group of dancers, and a vendor that calls Myra 'sweetheart' as he tries to catch her attention with cheap watches and bracelets. At one point Myra finds herself moving her head ever so slightly to the beat of song as they approach its source, but doesn't stop the motion, as most others passing by seem to be doing the same thing anyways. So the culture didn't appear a total wash, at least they had occasional songs that were appealing, even to someone with her antiquated tastes.
They pass by a music store and Myra smiles as she notices all the different hair styles present, and wonders how exactly one gets a Mohawk to stand up so tall without flopping over. She sees a sign that says Sale: Tapes and sees a picture of a cassette tape, with a table of them beneath. At least now she knows what they look like.
"So, anything in particular you'd like to see?" The question is really for herself, but in the character of Menz, it's the closest she can come to asking if they have any specific location to visit or if they'll just keep window shopping. He said he didn't have a plan for their day, so she considered that he might just have them wander around The Village until noon, and then go to Chinatown.
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There is also someone coming up fast behind them on a skateboard, although it will hardly be the first skater she's seen on the streets. The noise of the wheels is lost against the general background noise, of course. Without breaking stride, The Shadow jabs his cane down very hard as the skateboarder is drawing level.
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The teen stands up after catching the skateboard, face flushed. The Shadow is a mean old man. "That was wicked! I was watching for your arm."
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Myra may observe there is no tension in his frame, and he is holding the cane casually once more. Evidently he expects no real trouble from the newcomer, but he is clearly annoyed.
"Why?"
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"Really..." She keeps her voice quieter than The Shadow's, it's not her intention to be rude and interject, but she can't be a silent statue either.
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He gives a sigh that ends in a cough, and it takes some effort to prevent a further fit of coughing and wheezing from the resulting pain. The situation is embarrassing enough without the addition of exposing his infirmity on the street. His glance to Myra is meaningful, if clearly frustrated at the situation. "This is Chaz Walters, She runs errands for me." It is his hope that this peaceable exchange will be sufficient to disourage the onlookers.
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Come on, she's not stupid.
Most people, the first time they see Chaz, see a teenage boy. Maybe sixteen or so, too young to dream of shaving at least. Usually Chaz watches them for that moment when the penny drops and they notice there's a little bit of chest and hips, but the Shadow's kind of robbed her of that game.
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