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Witnessing the subtleties of Scarlett's talent for avoiding danger may well explain how she managed to dodge trouble at an M-Town concert. It isn't a place she normally ventures and the police appeared after her vanishing act into the crowd established either she's a complete traitor or, more likely, skilled at keeping her skin.
Queens makes a pleasant backdrop for a meeting, if not her usual haunt. The baking heat leaves even mornings stifling, and no doubt some enterprising teen will knock open another fire hydrant to let the neighbourhood kids dance and play on the splashing streams gushing from the broken end. Water sparkles in the sunlight where even now adults join the kids, not really concerned about civic laws violated so long as they get a break. Droning fans oscillate hot, sticky air around the diner and some effort to cool the place involves turning over a bucket and filling it with ice, then placing that bucket under the moving blades to stir up some relief.
Scarlett sits in the back of the place, holding a folding fan in her right hand. She bats it with desultory beats while reading a textbook, probably the reason they put up with her sitting there having nothing to eat but a basket of French fries and a pitcher of water. Her finger skims down the lines on the page, and a line appears between her brow in heavy thought.
*
It was probably for the best that Rogue escaped when she did, for things got rather ugly. Despite being both spooked and shocked at the treatment they were given, Kurt also made it out without much of a scratch, although he might not have left the best impression on the NYPD in attendance. He is also, however, very difficult to detain.
Whether or not the meeting was arranged before or after the event, he still shows up, wearing jeans and a button-down bowling-style shirt that seems to be in fashion now. He walks into the diner as if there's absolutely no reason he should be there, and slides into the seat opposite Rogue. There is a bright smile and then, "You know, I owe you a coffee, Fraulein."
*
Nothing like upsetting the NYPD for reasons entirely of their own making. No doubt Spider-Man will get blamed for the ills he's caused. It makes matters easier to bury a nose in a book, and forget anyone else out there has charged opinions about genetics and skin colour, shape and form. While she waits, Scarlett dips a fry into a small puddle of ketchup, but she ends up completely ignoring the tomato sugar paste by whatever she reads.
"You owe me something? I wasn't aware anyone was keeping track of a karmic debt except the Fates three," she murmurs, looking up to find Kurt headed her way. The bench squeaks as she moves over, pulling in her belongings to more her side of the table. "Fancy a fry? They make them crisp here, but I keep finding myself distracted from eating them. Suppose that means something about me or the quality of the food?"
*
Nightcrawler is, no doubt, being stared at as he sits with the redhead, as casual as can be. He's doing his best to ignore the stares but it's the fear in some of those eyes that makes his heart a little heavy. Nevertheless, he grins at her, "You were kind to someone you didn't know…someone who was new to the city. I think maybe you are kind to all, ja? But still, it would be my honor," he places a three-fingered hand over his heart and gives a little bow even seated as he is, "to return the kindness."
At the offer of the fries, he looks at the basket before taking one. "Danke."
*
"I try to be better than they expect, for those moments when someone else stumbles. A good records makes lapses forgivable, or more easily so," Scarlett explains as she finds her bookmark and lays it across the page. The slip of paper has a tassel at the end, and the heavy reinforcement has a string of letters or shapes drawn on it in various coloured inks. They have a decidedly runic quality, though not the Celtic knotwork still being doodled in. When she shuts the cover, the spine is visible enough: The Poetic Edda, A Collection of Wisdom. She inclines her head to the bow and replies lightly, "You have given no cause for anyone to be other than fast friends with you, or strive for politeness. Had anyone else in the city half the manners you do, we wouldn't be experiencing a week of riots."
*
Nightcrawler glances at the book, "What are you reading?" He hasn't heard of that one. Taking another fry, he then shrugs at the compliment, "I see no reason to be cruel to someone. Maybe it's because I knew that most people are afraid of me because of how I look that I try to be nice." He takes another fry then and considers, "It is also the Christian thing to do. These are very good." He may not know much better in regards to french fries unless he spent time in Belgium.
It's about this time that one of the waitresses makes her way over to the table, looking quite hesitant as she practically throws a menu at Kurt. He responds with a smile and, "Danke. I would like a coke, please…" and he then looks to Rogue to see if she'd like anything else.
*
"Glass of lemonade, please," follows suit when the waitress makes her appearance. Hesitation might be present there, but she shows the same manners as she would to her 98-year-old great grandmother, presuming she actually had one. "Thank you, ma'am. We'll just carry on our conversation here, I think. Far too hot to be outside."
No doubt the diner is already tallying up a few losses. Not that a hot day means much for the bottom line growing. Her hands lie atop the book, weighing it down as if it intends to fly away. "Icelandic and Norwegian poetry. They had a tradition like Homer and the Greeks. Oral historians would sing or perform the tales of history, mythology, and such. It's actually quite exciting and a bit different than Aesop's Fables or the Trojan War. Everyone appears to really enjoy getting drunk and cracking jokes, though the reading format is a bit strange. They write differently. I think I may have to find a teacher for Old Norse if I really wish to study this, though surely someone in New York can do it. I might also get credits for independently studying, but I have to talk to the department at Columbia about that."
*
Nightcrawler does take a look at the menu before he looks back over at Scarlett, "Norway! Ah, I have -not- been there. We stayed mostly to the west of the Iron Wall…" no communist countries for -his- circus! "You are reading this for fun or for study at University?" He seems a little interested in it because it's something he's unfamiliar with. Just because he had no formal schooling doesn't mean he can't read or doesn't appreciate learning. "Is that why you are here in the city? For your studies?"
*
Norway is most definitely west of the Iron Wall. Even poor little Finland on the border maintains some alliances to the west, Helsinki standing a broad distance from Oslo and Stockholm like a good Finn, but still trying not to get in arm's reach of Moscow.
"Something of both, actually. I want to understand more about the topic, and see whether it's worth all the time and effort of making a real study out of it." She cups her hand underneath her chin, grinning briefly at the indigo mutant. "I love that you have traveled so widely. Exciting, makes our little patch of dirt here seem fairly small. Columbia is the reason I came here, yes. That and the Professor's Institute, as another reason to study so I could learn a different way of engaging with society. Is that okay to speak of? I don't know if you are related to him, and I would not wish to put you on the spot or uncomfortable talking about him."
*
The circus never really went into Scandanavia…just Denmark. Still grinning, Kurt looks around the diner and out the window briefly before turning back, "It is older, ja, but I do not know about seeming small. Maybe the city, but it is still very different." Probably because everything is so new. "I would like to see the West of America, even though there are no more cowboys. I have seen pictures and the movies and television shows…" it all seems so expansive and wide open!
When Rogue mentions the Professor and the Institute, he tilts his head some. Right, she was there when Raven made her reveal. "you can speak of it. -So- many have talked of it to me." It's almost wearying. "I do not know if we are related…he does not think so. But Raven does. Not by blood, but by…Annahme. Uhm. I do not know this word in English."
*
The circus went places. Places that aren't confined to a state or a city, not one road going northeast and sending on the Hudson, right? Her smile flashes at the imagination, and she tips her head sideways. "Cowboys, you? I never would have thought you wanted to put on a pair of boots and spurs, and kick tumbleweeds through Arizona and Colorado." Her thoughts temper around that image, and she purses her lips for a moment, searching the broken vault of her memories for something. Anything. "I think there are still ranches where they ride on horseback and herd cattle. Other things? Truth be told, I never really paid attention." The nice way of saying she has no idea.
"Speak French? I'm not much for German but I could try that," Scarlett notes, her nose wrinkled. "Adoption, maybe? When someone who is not related is taken into another person's family?"
*
"I would rather flash a sword on a Pirate ship, but those are gone for a long time except for in the movies," Kurt grins. "I have seen the movies about cowboys and would like to see the places…but I do not think I would make a good cowboy." He looks over at his tail as it lightly taps against the seat, "I do not sit well on a horse." As it is, he sits fairly forward on the seat so that he's not uncomfortable.
"French? Un petite peu. I am better at German and Romany. Those und English were what the Circus spoke," which is why he's maintained his German despite living all those years around others.
When Scarlett mentions the definition, he nods, "Ja, that is it. Adoption." He files that word away."
*
"Pirate ships like Erroll Flynn!" Scarlett sits up, her hands over her mouth and a mad sparkle in her gaze. "Such drama on the high sea, and the most impressive choreography. Would you have been on a real pirate ship, or simply a stage of one? I admit I wish I knew how to use a sword, but not actually to cut someone. All the swish and dash is rather thrilling, though, and a girl needs her heart to beat fast now and then." She runs her fingers in languid intersecting lines over the cover of the Eddas, apparently so lost in the moment she fails to notice the return of the server who puts down their drinks and runs away fast as she can. Though her gaze eventually will travel for the smack of his tail. However not, when the spade is played?
A startled look becomes a laugh at her own foolishness, and then she grins. "Horse or tail. I think the tail has more possibilities, but then a girl can wear a dress or skirt and less issue than pants would be."
A girl thinks about these things. She nonetheless reaches for her glass and tears into a straw, tapping it into the glass. Ice cubes jangle aside and she brings it to her lips. "I wouldn't either, to be sure. It would be rather hard to ride a horse, and when it comes down to it, I'm faster than a horse, anyways."
*
"Ja! Genau!" Kurt grins, almost bouncing in his seat. "Errol Flynn is my hero! Not that he died, but in the movies. Ah, 'Captain Blood' und 'Robin Hood!'." Seems some older movies made it to Europe. "I know how, but I cannot carry it around. That would just be silly." When the soda is brought, he gives the waitress a smile even as she runs away. At least they're not kicking him out. Yet.
"The horses did not like me much in the Circus. I think I smelled strange to them," as they could smell the Brimstone of his teleportation even when most humans could not. There's a shrug as he also glances to his tail, "I do not know what it is like to not have a tail so I cannot say. I have always had it…" and he's always sort of known what to do with it.
*
Scarlett sits up in the booth, the vinyl bench squeaking under her weight. "Do you know East Village at all? They have a small cinema there run mostly by a film club, old actors and such. They like to run old films there and sometimes they do a whole run of an actor or a theme. I should put a recommendation in for Erroll Flynn." See, terrible ideas and terrible hopes mash together. Let the eavesdropping servants worry about that.
"You're not required to explain about your tail. You have it. It's a tail, and if I were you, I would probably get in trouble putting a little hat on it and doing the occasional puppet show with myself for my own amusement." Most days, she's timelessly modern and responsible. And then the bohemian is apparently eight.
*
"Was? Where?" Yellow eyes widen when he hears about this movie house. "Mein Gott, I have to go there!" Someone is a cinephile. "If they do an Errol Flynn festival, I will be there every show!" Kurt sips at his own coke after that, but the idea seems almost magical. A run of Errol Flynn movies! Swashbucklers! And he can 'hide' in the dark.
Her words about his tail get a smile, "Not many others think that, but danke. I like it. It is useful. Some of the girls in the Circus would tie ribbons around it, but I think it does not need decoration." It already has a couple of his tattoo-scars.
*
"In the village, this little place off Avenue A. Do you know where Tompkins Square Park is? It's maybe four blocks south of that, maybe five. The seats leave something to be desired but bring a coat to sit on and you will probably find it lovely." The knock of ice cubes with her straw gives quiet melodies to their statements.
"See, there may be something worthy to hide from the heat. How did the music turn out yesterday? I'm sorry about leaving but…" She shrugs her shoulders slightly, an explanation the best she can give. "Of late I have felt more impulsive."
*
Nightcrawler shakes his head as he doesn't know the place, but he takes mental notes. "I will look for it. I do not site in the seats well anyhow. I try to get in the back and sit on the backs of the seats…" as there's generally more room and he's a little more comfortable.
When Rogue asks about the music, his expression falls some and he looks to his soda. "The music was good, but the band did not play very long. It was good that you left when you did because the Polizei…the police came. It was a…how do you say it? Ueberfall. A Raid."
*
"It's a nice place, all said and done." Scarlett tugs her book into her lap, searching for her bag. She tucks it in there, and then gives a bit of a frown. "A police raid? Sisters three, what is /wrong/ with this city? Can we go nowhere anymore?" Her eyes shut for a moment and the surge of anger around her is flattened, the worn out emotional restraint slipping for once. Lines appear between her brows, and finally she pushes herself up from the booth seat with as much care as she can muster. It doesn't help to be the bull in the china shop.
The pause follows as she reaches her feet. "I'm sorry. I hate to think of friends of mine or anyone I know subject to something like that, as if we are criminals. This place is stifling me. I need open air. Later, Kurt, and be well." Because brimstone jumps might help, but the only answer she has left is seeking the limitless stretch of space and hanging, possibly, on an ice shelf in Greenland with hopes it might bury her.
*
Nightcrawler stands when Rogue does out of politeness and looks at her with some concern. A hand reaches out as if to try and soothe her, "Fraulein…it is not just us that have this. It is the way the world is working now, but we can work to change it." He pulls his hand back as she seems intent on leaving, "Do not let this hurt you. I mean…it is terrible, but we cannot let them win and frighten us. We have to be the strong ones. We have to show that they cannot push us down."
There is a sigh before he nods, "You too. Be well. I hope to see you again soon." He'll pay for the drinks and her tab, leaving a large tip.
*