Big man on campus
I ran into one of the largest men I've ever had the misfortune to bounce off from, down in the city on my way back from the studio. (Why can't Stephanie hurry up with getting me out of this damn contract? I'm not making good arguments anymore, can barely repeat the right talking points half the time, and we all know it. Haven't gotten so much as a call from one of the nets in weeks. Matthews, why hast thou forsaken me? Best to cut my losses and find a better gig. Or just another one. Crap. I need a better agent, too.) Big as a pro wrestler and apparently as dumb as a fencepost. I poked and prodded at him for the entertainment, before he walked off.
And for the reassurance, I admit. The reassertion of control over the people around me, which I'd never really considered before, let alone worried about - control over a person, any person. I hate that kind of pop-psychology blather, but hell. I will not let Scott Summers, the MRA, and all my jumping at shadows box me into some kind of tight, frightened cage. Screw that.
7/15/2005
Logfile from Leah.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Midtown
The stretch of neighborhood beneath Central Park is vast, and home to many landmarks of the city. Unlike some of the quieter sections of New York, Midtown is ablaze with energy what with the constant traffic around Grand Central Station, Carnegie Hall, Rockefeller Center, and the like, and in the rows of billboards and neon-glowing signs. Numerous museums are mingled in among the art galleries and night clubs, and the buzz of activity constantly circulating around Fifth Avenue shopping. Nothing illustrates New York better than Midtown.
--
New York City. Not many places on the world can say that they have the kind of atmosphere that can be found here. Whether that's a good or a bad thing differs from person to person. For one at least, it's a place that hasn't been seen for years. Amidst the crowd roaming the sidewalks and the endless stream of vehicles on the streets walks a tall individual. Nothing overtly obvious about him to comment about, but enough to garner some curiousity as he walks. Hidden under his shades, his eyes lurk slowly from one side of the street to the other, gradually refamiliarizing himself with forgotten sights.
New York City native: Leah has her head down and is bulling straight through the sidewalks' crowds, a coffee in one hand and a newspaper folded for reading in the other. With honed and trained expertise, she sidesteps and pushes and wiggles in her way without losing a step of her pace, a drop of her drink, or a word of her reading.
Cain doesn't seem to be quite as agile in how he steps... Not because he can't be, but there seems to be a lack of care about the whole matter.. Most people seem to be willing to step aside to let him by. An occasional bump or two earns a few gripes from passer-bys, though not much comes from it. He simply walks onward, his eyes starting to train further up, to note the buildings being passed by.
Leah slurps up another sip of the coffee, then glances disgust at it (cold? bad? whatever) and angles to the nearest trash can for its disposal. While she's stopped, she folds back a fresh page of print to read. Then back to the crowds! Not so bad, really, at this time in midtown, so she's able to do her city-bred navigation thing for a while longer. A while, that is, before the combination of her looking down and Cain's looking up leads to a brush-by. Well, maybe a little stronger than that: "--Oof. Hey. Watch your step, buddy." And she dodges a pale-brown glare up at the man.
--
Cain
Your eyes have fallen upon a man who is doubtlessly one of very sizable stature. Easily 7 feet tall, he would tower over most, and there's a broadness to his frame to match. Is he really just some ordinary person, or could he be something else?...
For the most part, he seems to be dressed as any other ordinary person might. From the looks of him though, it's probably not hard to imagine that his clothes are specially made in order to fit him. A tanned leather coat drapes over him, the sleeves coming down to the wrists, the length of it managing to come down to his calves. Underneath lies a slightly lighter shaded vest left unbuttoned, and under THAT is a fairly simple white dress shirt, buttoned up to the chest, neatly tucked into tanned pants. Some particularly durable, heavy looking black boots rest over his feet.
He looks clean and fairly well kept at the least. His hair is cut short for the moment, dark brown in color. sporting just a little fullness around the top and the back. His face bares a solid structure, his skin unflawed by things such as scars or the like. He tends to wear black shades over his eyes, but when they can be seen, a reddish tint is noticable on his colored irises. There also seems to be a quietness and reservedness to how he keeps himself.
--
Cain pauses as he feels a nudge against his body. It doesn't seem to register as much as it probably did to the reporter, though it seems to be enough to catch his attention, as well what's said. The faint outline of his eyes barely trace from behind his shades as he stares down at the woman. "Excuse you," can finally be heard. Not the kindest choice of words, and while it doesn't sound threatening, it doesn't sound very apologetic either.
And don't think a girl born and bred in Brooklyn, by her accent and her attitude, can't pick that vibe up out of a crowd. Leah's glare narrows to wary consideration, and she drops her paper to her side. "Yeah, excuse me," she agrees. "And you, too. Hey, if you're lookin' for the nearest WWF event, or whatever it's called these days, you're probably in the wrong part of town. Just lettin' you know."
It looked as though the big guy was about to get moving again, though again he's brought to pause, people coming from behind perhaps wisely stepping around. The slightly grim nature of his expression gradually fades into a subtle grin. "Not exactly. Haven't done anything like that in a long time."
Leah snorts. "Right. You're part of the Fortune 500 now, right? CEO and president of a Wall Street firm."
"No...." For what it's worth, it seems the woman has gotten Cain's attention for the moment. His voice is clear and concise enough, but there seems to be somewhat of a lack of enthusiasm in his speaking manner. It could probably be passed off as not wanting to speak with anyone, though in truth it stems from something deeper.. Life in imprisonment tends to have an affect on at least some in how they see the world around them.
Leah's lips quirk with annoyance. No fun if the target of snark isn't snarking back. She shifts tactics accordingly: "So, if not that, what? You just lumberin' along like a tourist because you are one?" She glances aside at a panhandler creeping their way, and glowers him right back into his doorway again. Then back to Cain, nice as nice does. "You're not an easy mark for muggers, I'll grant you that, but really, man. Try /not/ to give yourself away with all the gawking."
Cain's brow furrows lightly. How long HAS it been since someone's really spoken with this guy? For a moment he seems a little more frank in his tone. "In a way.... It's been awhile since I've come this way. Let's just say I've been a little out of touch..." Her little offhanded comment brings a hand up from his side. His shades are lowered just enough so that the woman catches a glimpse of his eyes. There's something perhaps a little unsettling about the look coming from them, and the smirking grin on his face doesn't seem to be helping much either. "You're too kind..."
"Uh-huh." Apparently content to stick around for the show a little longer, Leah folds her arms, taps her newspaper against her waist, and studies him. "What, just got out of jail or something? Should I be afraid for my life?" She doesn't look or sound it, that's for sure. Pure, bored, wicked chutzpah.
Cain pushes his shades slowly back over his eyes once more, a slight chuckle under his breath. Funny she should mention that... It would be so easy for him right now.. And the woman's behavior towards him only seems to make the thought more appealing.. But still, he just got back... What a waste it'd be to blow his cover over. Instead, his hands settle in the pockets of his coat, turning himself back in the direction he was headed earlier. "If you want to be afraid, that's up to you. You never know who you can run into.." And with that, he starts to go about his way once more.
Leah says after his back, because a New York girl's gotta, "Literally, no less! Take care, stranger. And keep your damn eyes off the skyline, for the love of Mike." She shakes her head, snaps out her arms and her paper again for reading, and slips back into the crowd, gone like a raindrop into the streams of bustling pedestrians.
Cain doesn't even bother looking back, though he brings an arm up once again, apparently offering the woman a little courtesy wave as he walks on... Not much of a conversation, but still better than nothing... For now, he just continues on his way.. There's still plenty to be seen.
[Log ends.]
And for the reassurance, I admit. The reassertion of control over the people around me, which I'd never really considered before, let alone worried about - control over a person, any person. I hate that kind of pop-psychology blather, but hell. I will not let Scott Summers, the MRA, and all my jumping at shadows box me into some kind of tight, frightened cage. Screw that.
7/15/2005
Logfile from Leah.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Midtown
The stretch of neighborhood beneath Central Park is vast, and home to many landmarks of the city. Unlike some of the quieter sections of New York, Midtown is ablaze with energy what with the constant traffic around Grand Central Station, Carnegie Hall, Rockefeller Center, and the like, and in the rows of billboards and neon-glowing signs. Numerous museums are mingled in among the art galleries and night clubs, and the buzz of activity constantly circulating around Fifth Avenue shopping. Nothing illustrates New York better than Midtown.
--
New York City. Not many places on the world can say that they have the kind of atmosphere that can be found here. Whether that's a good or a bad thing differs from person to person. For one at least, it's a place that hasn't been seen for years. Amidst the crowd roaming the sidewalks and the endless stream of vehicles on the streets walks a tall individual. Nothing overtly obvious about him to comment about, but enough to garner some curiousity as he walks. Hidden under his shades, his eyes lurk slowly from one side of the street to the other, gradually refamiliarizing himself with forgotten sights.
New York City native: Leah has her head down and is bulling straight through the sidewalks' crowds, a coffee in one hand and a newspaper folded for reading in the other. With honed and trained expertise, she sidesteps and pushes and wiggles in her way without losing a step of her pace, a drop of her drink, or a word of her reading.
Cain doesn't seem to be quite as agile in how he steps... Not because he can't be, but there seems to be a lack of care about the whole matter.. Most people seem to be willing to step aside to let him by. An occasional bump or two earns a few gripes from passer-bys, though not much comes from it. He simply walks onward, his eyes starting to train further up, to note the buildings being passed by.
Leah slurps up another sip of the coffee, then glances disgust at it (cold? bad? whatever) and angles to the nearest trash can for its disposal. While she's stopped, she folds back a fresh page of print to read. Then back to the crowds! Not so bad, really, at this time in midtown, so she's able to do her city-bred navigation thing for a while longer. A while, that is, before the combination of her looking down and Cain's looking up leads to a brush-by. Well, maybe a little stronger than that: "--Oof. Hey. Watch your step, buddy." And she dodges a pale-brown glare up at the man.
--
Cain
Your eyes have fallen upon a man who is doubtlessly one of very sizable stature. Easily 7 feet tall, he would tower over most, and there's a broadness to his frame to match. Is he really just some ordinary person, or could he be something else?...
For the most part, he seems to be dressed as any other ordinary person might. From the looks of him though, it's probably not hard to imagine that his clothes are specially made in order to fit him. A tanned leather coat drapes over him, the sleeves coming down to the wrists, the length of it managing to come down to his calves. Underneath lies a slightly lighter shaded vest left unbuttoned, and under THAT is a fairly simple white dress shirt, buttoned up to the chest, neatly tucked into tanned pants. Some particularly durable, heavy looking black boots rest over his feet.
He looks clean and fairly well kept at the least. His hair is cut short for the moment, dark brown in color. sporting just a little fullness around the top and the back. His face bares a solid structure, his skin unflawed by things such as scars or the like. He tends to wear black shades over his eyes, but when they can be seen, a reddish tint is noticable on his colored irises. There also seems to be a quietness and reservedness to how he keeps himself.
--
Cain pauses as he feels a nudge against his body. It doesn't seem to register as much as it probably did to the reporter, though it seems to be enough to catch his attention, as well what's said. The faint outline of his eyes barely trace from behind his shades as he stares down at the woman. "Excuse you," can finally be heard. Not the kindest choice of words, and while it doesn't sound threatening, it doesn't sound very apologetic either.
And don't think a girl born and bred in Brooklyn, by her accent and her attitude, can't pick that vibe up out of a crowd. Leah's glare narrows to wary consideration, and she drops her paper to her side. "Yeah, excuse me," she agrees. "And you, too. Hey, if you're lookin' for the nearest WWF event, or whatever it's called these days, you're probably in the wrong part of town. Just lettin' you know."
It looked as though the big guy was about to get moving again, though again he's brought to pause, people coming from behind perhaps wisely stepping around. The slightly grim nature of his expression gradually fades into a subtle grin. "Not exactly. Haven't done anything like that in a long time."
Leah snorts. "Right. You're part of the Fortune 500 now, right? CEO and president of a Wall Street firm."
"No...." For what it's worth, it seems the woman has gotten Cain's attention for the moment. His voice is clear and concise enough, but there seems to be somewhat of a lack of enthusiasm in his speaking manner. It could probably be passed off as not wanting to speak with anyone, though in truth it stems from something deeper.. Life in imprisonment tends to have an affect on at least some in how they see the world around them.
Leah's lips quirk with annoyance. No fun if the target of snark isn't snarking back. She shifts tactics accordingly: "So, if not that, what? You just lumberin' along like a tourist because you are one?" She glances aside at a panhandler creeping their way, and glowers him right back into his doorway again. Then back to Cain, nice as nice does. "You're not an easy mark for muggers, I'll grant you that, but really, man. Try /not/ to give yourself away with all the gawking."
Cain's brow furrows lightly. How long HAS it been since someone's really spoken with this guy? For a moment he seems a little more frank in his tone. "In a way.... It's been awhile since I've come this way. Let's just say I've been a little out of touch..." Her little offhanded comment brings a hand up from his side. His shades are lowered just enough so that the woman catches a glimpse of his eyes. There's something perhaps a little unsettling about the look coming from them, and the smirking grin on his face doesn't seem to be helping much either. "You're too kind..."
"Uh-huh." Apparently content to stick around for the show a little longer, Leah folds her arms, taps her newspaper against her waist, and studies him. "What, just got out of jail or something? Should I be afraid for my life?" She doesn't look or sound it, that's for sure. Pure, bored, wicked chutzpah.
Cain pushes his shades slowly back over his eyes once more, a slight chuckle under his breath. Funny she should mention that... It would be so easy for him right now.. And the woman's behavior towards him only seems to make the thought more appealing.. But still, he just got back... What a waste it'd be to blow his cover over. Instead, his hands settle in the pockets of his coat, turning himself back in the direction he was headed earlier. "If you want to be afraid, that's up to you. You never know who you can run into.." And with that, he starts to go about his way once more.
Leah says after his back, because a New York girl's gotta, "Literally, no less! Take care, stranger. And keep your damn eyes off the skyline, for the love of Mike." She shakes her head, snaps out her arms and her paper again for reading, and slips back into the crowd, gone like a raindrop into the streams of bustling pedestrians.
Cain doesn't even bother looking back, though he brings an arm up once again, apparently offering the woman a little courtesy wave as he walks on... Not much of a conversation, but still better than nothing... For now, he just continues on his way.. There's still plenty to be seen.
[Log ends.]