(no subject)
Ghost skulks through the village, sticking to the darker side of the street, the alleys, and the like. He keeps his hat pulled down and head low, glancing out ofthe corners of his eyes.
Nevaeh has been pretty good at avoiding alleys lately after what happened the last time she was in one, though it's hard to miss this one, as the fire escape of the apartment leads right down through here. Eyes wide behind dark sunglasses, the girl takes her steps very cautiously, making no sound at all because her feet still have yet to touch the actual steps, sort of hovering and giving the appearance of actual walking.
Ghost stops at the mouth of the alley to look out at the street. Leaning against hte corner with a soft sigh, he starts fishing around in his pockets for a lighter and a half-mangled pack of cigarettes. Always a good day for him when someone else decides to try and quit. Means he doesn't have to steal himself some more.
Nevaeh is almost reaching the bottom of the steps when she hears someone else in the alley way, her entire body freezing as those red eyes begin to glance around, searching out whoever belongs to that noise. "H..hello?" she asks quietly, not yet seeing someone as she takes another step down, her hand going into her purse, clutching tightly to the bottle of pepper spray she's started carrying with her.
Ghost spins at the sound of a voice behind him, his form sort of wavering in the light from the streets. Takes him a minute to find the source, citing an aversion to showing more of his face than he needs to. "Sorry, miss," the bum mutters, "Didn' see anybody comin' through. I'll, uh.. jist get outta yer way, huh?" He moves silently to the other side of the alley and fades back a ways, hoping to leave a comfortable distance. If one watches closely they might notice that he doesn't disturb any of the litter when he passes. Not even a little.
See now, you think she would have learned her lesson last time, but the curse of having a big heart is that you're always putting yourself in dangerous situations. "Wait." She calls after him and slides the glasses from over her eyes, red glistening in the lamp's light. "Before you go, I don't suppose you have a light do you?" Because right now, she could use a cigarette.
Ghost is mostly harmless, anyways. "Huh? Yeah, sure, jist a minute," he mumbles, retrieving the lighter, again. Just the briefest of glances from under his hat, whiteless eyes assessing the woman, then he takes the few steps back to offer flame. "Shouldn't smoke," he chuckles around his own broken cigarette. "Ain't good fer ya."
Whiteless eyes meet red eyes and the sides of Nevaeh's lips quirk up into a faint hint of a smile, a Newport Light pulled from it's pale green casing. "I know. But there's hope for me yet, I only just started." Stress got the best of her and she wanted to see if smoking really did help. It did. "Thank." She mumbles once the stick is lit, taking a long drag from it for a moment.
Ghost smiles a bit, applying the flame to his own. "It don't really help nothin' but gettin' yerself sick. Just a bit'a friendly advice is all. Why ya creepin' 'round in alleys, anyways? Lady like you should be usin' the doors."
"I don't know, it's more a psychological thing I guess. If you force yourself into believing something that something makes you feel better, then it will on some level." Nev simply shakes her head and looks up. "It's one of those old buildings where a bunch of stuff is breaking down. It's easier for me to get down the fire escape."
Ghost nods, fading back a bit to lean against a wall. "Mebbe, but it still ain't good. Been tryin' ta quit fer most of a year, now. Shame 'bout yer buildin', but it could always be worse, y'know. Some folks ain't got nothin' but what others give'em."
Nevaeh shakes her head slightly as she leans against the opposite wall. "Not my building actually. I was just delivering groceries to a little old lady that lives on the third floor. She's not really good at getting around so I bring her groceries and stuff like that every week."
"Doin' a bit'a humanitarian stuff, huh? Good ta hear," Ghost snickers. "Ain't a lotta that goin' on, no more, it seems, people too busy lookin' after their pocketbooks. Nice ta know there's others doin' the work, even if it ain't quite the same."
"Yeah well, it's the least I can do for the poor dear, she'd be trapped otherwise. And she needs someone to look after her." Nevaeh shrugs and brings the cigarette to her lips to take another drag. "You do something similar?" She asks after that last sentence of his.
Ghost mumbles, "Yeah, something like that. Do some health work fer people on the streets. Ain't legal, and I ain't the best, but it's all what some of'em got." Her takes one last drag off the cigarette and grinds it out against the wall, pocketing the filter instead of pitching it.
Nevaeh arches a brow and looks genuinely shocked. "Really? Health work? Good for you! Someone needs to be there for those less fortunate. See, if more people thought like us, that stupid MRA law wouldn't have gotten passed." Another puff from the cigarette, longer this time.
Ghost frowns and scratches the back of his neck. "MRA law? What's that s'posed ta be? Sounds like some kinda college degree."
Nevaeh blinks. "Guess you don't get out much huh? Mutant Registration Act. They just passed a law that encourages mutants to register themselves like pets."
Ghost snickers, at first, slowly building up to a full, bellowing laugh, though that's short lived. "And they think folks're gonna just roll over and let themselves get tagged? Sounds like dubbya dubbya two all over, again ta me! Nah, I don't get out a lot, tend ta stay behind the scenes as much as I can. Safer that way. Kinda explains why we got so many new folks comin' 'round lately, though."
Nevaeh frowns. "The problem is there are going to be people who do it. Naive mutants, dumb ones. Kid mutants who's parents register them. It's going to turn into a war if they're not careful." And it disgusts her. Why is it that people have to be such jerks?
Ghost mumbles, "Guess I'm gonna hafta learn how ta speak French, then, ain't I? There's always an underground, even when the war ain't so open. Been goin' on fer years, now, just that most don't know nothin' about it. People that can't pass in society? They gotta have some place ta go ta be safe, and there's a lot of'em. Don't think there won't be enough ta fight back."
Nevaeh smirks. "You and me both. Though luckily I'd have a pretty good teacher." She says, thinking that maybe Mark could teach her some French if it ever came down to that. Her wristwatch begins to beep at her, startling her slightly as she looks down. "Oh hell. I've gotta go. But maybe we'll run into each other again soon? I'm always here on thursday nights." She informs him, in case he ever needs someone to smoke with. And like a flash she's off.