[downtown]
(danny jones)
7:30am and the clang of pots and pans in the diner brings a groan of protest from somewhere in the alley. That's the problem with squattin next to the good eats - means they're up and early at the asscrack of dawn. One eye opens, slightly, taking in her surroundings, and after a moment she unfolds her slender (skinny!) form from around her gym bag, and pokes her head out into the cold air.
and instantly tucks her head back IN again. "Christonacandlestuck!" the mutter as she moves around. Sounds inside suggest she's adding another layer - and quickly - under the tattered beat up flannel 'jacket' she is soon zipping up over it all.
Couldn't send her ass somewhere WARM. Oh no. Send the Floridian to Chicago in winter. That'll be fun.
(james)
"..... th'helliz a can'lestuck?"
incredulous, that phrase
right on par with her disbelief in assignment logic
Floridian is to Chicago Winter as Holy Martyr is to..... whatever a candlestuck may be
luckily, the blessedly blunt statement is followed by marginal warmth
the low sound of a rolling chuckle fogging chilled air
(..... or.... was that a growl....)
(danny)
.....blink. "awfuckinellidunno!" it comes out in a rush, before that head topped with (bottle)red tight French braids pops out of that box again to search for the growly laughter.
She pulls her 5'8" height out of the box inch by inch as if loath to leave (rite)warmed haven though finally she does, and folds into a crouch. What looks to be sweater sleeves cover most of her hands and up along her arms under the layers, leaving fingers and half her palm free. She rubs them together and sniffs once or twice. "is likely candlestick said when yeh teeth are chatterin."
Yeah. that makes sense.
(james)
the alley behind Sally's Diner is, for all rights and purposes, fairly silent following that
not that there's all that hopping a population to disturb the proverbial peace
other than Danny's shivering soul, it takes a good 70 degree head turn to find another
he's tucked back by the wall over there, patchwork covered shoulder smushed against the bricks
deadlocks hiding - er, insulating most of what features the floppy top-hat does not
dark eyes watch from somewhere under shadowy brim
pale lips crookedly curl around the cigarette dangling at the corner of a mouth
"..... I'll buy tha'."
(danny)
Well then. He'll buy that and a brow arches as she scratches under a braid before tucking her hands under her arms to keep em warm, unfolding to stand and face him. Patchwork coat and floppy hat - man, she's gotta get herself a HAT. that'd been smart, huh? She sniffs and rubs her nose against the back of her hand, across the partial glove there, before retucking. "Well, that's mighty white of ya."
Irrepressible the smirk that's really more of a grin. Then with a lift of her chin. "What else will ya buy?" Her rumbling tummy gives it's own suggestion as the scent of sausage gravy seeps into her little claimed area of the alley from the Diner. "An ya always sneak up on unsuspecting gals like that?"
(james)
the way hat's brim tips - he's surely lifted a curious brow
one hand in fingerless glove lifts to extract the Camel and flick ash
(... why yes, by those fingers, he is quite white....)
taking his time to resituate the stick that'll never give him cancer
likely picking and choosing exactly which of her responses will earn one of his
"Dunna." it's chuffed in faint amusement, shoulders rolling minimal shrug "Depen'z'n wheth'r a nah th' gal f'rgot about invitin' me."
(danny)
......blink. (that's twice, girl.) "awSHIT - you Branson, aintcha? Aw and me being all.. well. me." Now that smirky lil grin is decidedly sheepish as she scuffs her boot across the alley floor, and shifts her weight uneasily. She's likely not a day older then 16 - if that, and for all her 'comfortable in her own skin' feeling - she was just sassing an elder, like as not.
Whoops.
"didn't forget, zactly, just was tired n shit. long trip and all that. So. uh. Yeah. Hi. Name's Danny." She'll fill in the blanks when he asks her too.
(james)
and..... another blink
(....that's 2-for-2, Jamey boy....)
he can't keep hiding the amusement
soft laughter rolls like distant thunder as the Ahroun pulls his weight off the wall
"Well, a be hones' wit'cha....." his head tips negligently over the next step or three towards her "... I'd start a worry if you w'z bein' sum'ne else."
a hand extends what distance remains
palm up signal a friendly shake, no knuckles bared, here, for fielty's kiss
fingers sticking out of frayed weave roughened by a life of labor
palm's warm even through Winter's protective layers
harboring a strength that could crush bone should he find offense in unintentional sass
luckily his nature portents a far easier sense of humor than the brutality riding on unseen Rage
"Brans'n, Jaym'zz, Jukebox, Drums-'n-Skullsss, A'roun, Eagle, Adr'n, Eld'rman." shake segues directly into dismissive wave somewhere in the middle of his introduction - while she probably knows precisely just who he is, it's just as obvious he's the one entering her territory, as make-shift and temporary as her box-in-an-alley may make it be "Choice'z yo'rs."
(danny)
She does a quick check of herself. Smooth braids, face kinda clean, nothing tween her teeth, clothes - well, she's been wearin em a while, but they ain't over rank, and not like she's gonna be shuckin layers cuz Christ tis cold and all... so its as best she can do and shit. All this is done as he starts her way. Quick little movements, and then she squares her shoulders like some soldier for inspection - almost got a salute there before her slender fingers slide into the warmth of his handshake. Her own grip is sure, and strong, but ain't got near what his does in it - and that's bout when he starts his intro.
An her eyes - well, they keep getting wider as his list of names gets longer. and as negligent as his wave is, she just stares at him a minute before remembering to blink. And stammer. "damn that’s a laundry list o'names they dun stuck ya with, huh? I mean -rhya. Yeah. Um. Danny 'Sticks'n'Stones' Jones, Cliath 'dox from down Florida way. My Momma sent me up here to do a deed, and well, said I could stick if'n I was needed and stuff."
And it’s the return of the grin. "So might stick and all, if'n that's allright. When's spring?"
(james)
his amusement just deeeepens as her eyes grow wider
"Tha's th' shor' version, too." there's jest in his ever-crooked smile, but a measure of resignation, too - his proper and formal introduction's getting to the state of rivaling a damned Fang's, at this point, thank Gaia for small favors... most especially his blood doesn't get hung up on pretense "Full thing'd take yeh til Spring a deciph'r't inna slang much less Engl'sh."
a pause
"Tha's 'bout three month a nah.... I think." and... he's genuinely unsure of when, exactly, Spring will actually arrive "Seem's a go win'r straight inna swelt'r, pas' few year." switch from passing conversation to business at hand happens in the tipping nod of notched jawline, smack in the middle of the splinter-second it takes for the corners of his mouth to thoughtfully twitch down before mantle of responsibility is cast off and he's back to that easy - if lopsided - near-grin "Get'cher deed dun allrigh'?"
(danny)
"Aw, ya slang ain't too bad. You should hear Johnny Rain sometime - god that boy can't talk t'save 'is life. We dun duct taped his mouth once just so's he'd stop tryin cuz it was takin us too long to figger it out. Had t'have some songster Mindspeak th'bastard so's we could finish what we was doing. And the southern belles!" She slips easily into an accent much thicker then her own lightly flavored bad English "Lawwd 'ave meeeercy!" and back to her own speech. "nuff t'drive ya right on insane, it is. And toss in healthy bunch o'cubans, and gawd. Course, all that just t'say ya ain't so bad and all but well, even if ya was it wouldn't matter but ya aint..."
inhale. she clears her throat and flashes that grin again. "Well, swelter ain't so bad. that I'm used to. But three months o'this? Hm."
At the last question though, she nods with a bright grin. "Most o'it. Gotta make a pass later on, today, but the first part went smooth nuff. Ain't just a bookworm, I ain't. Momma likes t'send me on the long hauls cuz I ain't never missed a drop." Pride, in that.
(james)
there's a soft snort amidst her ramble
mini-history there sounds about on par with his own pack
but he'll let her discover that another time
seems at least Danny's up for the challenge of communicating with the War Pack
...... linguistically, anyhow, tolerance is a whole other matter
"Good." business concluded until next quarter, if she wants or needs his help it's something he knows will be asked for - no need to wade through ceremonial offerings this early in the morning or knock that earned element of pride - so he goes on with another, curt nod... up this time, seems a gesture encompassing more than simple acknowledgement "'Noth'r three month' a this sums 'bout two'n'a ha'f month' too long, uh?"
(danny)
her pride is certainly well earned, but it ain't overwhelming either. And she outright laughs at the last bit. "Amen to that - speakin of, it's cold as shit, yeh wanna come in?" a nod to her box - "ain't huge, but big nuff for two and we won't even have to get real friendly like. Not that, you know, I would or anything, you being the Top Dawg and all, but yeah. An' I can rustle up some grub too if ya hungry."
Gnawers. Hungry. Oh that'd be such a shock!
"But well, I been through winters afore, just not for a few years. been down with Momma since a bit before I done changed, but been all over. Gonna have to score me a hat to stick round though - sure they got a goodwill bin round bouts somewheres, huh?"
(james)
this time, both brows lift
Gnawers? Hungry? Surely you jest....
she must be - as he's chuckling that low growl again
Top Dawg - he's still getting used to that
"Gotta bett'r off'r" there are advantages to being Top Dawg, after all "C'n show yeh 'roun' a bit, 'n bet I c'n fine us a place score both hot grub'n a hat."
(danny)
"serious?" Ah, that outright grin of hers is mighty contagious. "Awesome! That's an offer I'd be stupid t'say no to alright. Jus' lemme grab my bag, and all."
And quick as that she's diving into her box head first, shimmying in and grabbing her gym bag, a quick check to make sure all her stuff is inside and that shimmy reverses until she's standing again. Practiced swing slings her bag across her shoulder diagonally, until it settles against her hip and a shift of its weight slides it up along her back.
"My next question was gonna be who I gotta know t'avoid and shit, local layout haunts and all that anyway, so a bit of a tour would be mighty 'preciated. Specially when it involves hot grub!" That cold greasy burger of last night is long gone memory by now. "Earlier a Redhead - real, not fake like mine - tole me I'd have t'catch you or one of the locals t'find the Caern n shit too."
[end]