1963-08-06 - Five Burgers and a Genius
Summary: Amadeus and Jennifer talk shop, and Peter and Amadeus talk science.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
amadeus jennifer peter 

Central Park by a summer's night sees carriages pulled by horses around the edges. People stroll up and down the main boulevard. No one thinks to go too deep into the trees as that's courting danger. Not all the nastiest stuff goes down in Hell's Kitchen. Transactions of an illicit sort go down in the less accessible acreage a jog from the fancy high-rises. Clandestine does not describe this kind of meeting though.

It helps the lamps are lit to give a nice glow and a concert takes place by a bandstand, the music definitely folk with a bit of Americana rock in there. Call it a strange blend. A thin audience lies on blankets and dines on whatever picnicking foods they brought. The outer ring around that shell makes a nice walking path and benches along the way are good to sit.

Jen Walters considers this a happening way to spend a weekend night. Not rescuing people from themselves, like she most absolutely did the previous night. Probably has a revoked Natural History membership now, but that's not front page news. Standing on the roof and jumping a space age mad scientist? Now that probably was. Just another tab for her Shield file.


It's a lovely summer day out here in Central Park. Families are out in droves as are the beatniks, college students, and the rest. For once things seem nice and quiet. There doesn't seem to be anything looming just over the horizon threatening to destroy life as they know it. Birds chirp and the sticky wet of the 90 degree New York summer clings to both flora and fauna. Sweet smells from the flowers and bakeries clash with the subtle and pungent smells of one of those Beat kids sparking up a doobie. Ah yes, New York in the Summer.

Amadeus Cho is over by a long row of tables set up for chess. Old men and women as well as young mingle here to engage in this battle of wits. Except that the tables are all empty on one side and on the other? A short young asian man with constantly 'punky' hair and a three-piece suit. He goes down the row to make his moves, having people raise their hands once they make theirs. In all? He's playing ten games of chess all at once and apparently doing very well in them all. "Oooh. Are you sure you wanna' do that, Mister Blumstein?" he teases an old man in a chair who just chuckles at him and waves a hand. "Don't know how you're doin' this, kid," he says.

The games go on, but Amadeus does notice Jennifer walking through the park. Those sharp eyes fix to her and his face gradually brightens up with a bright white smile. "Jennifer!" he calls after the woman. "Okay. I forfeit, guys. Thanks for the games!" This is spoken to his opponents just before he takes off in a run towards the rather impressive, heroic attorney. "Uhm…Miss Walters!" He should probably be a little less familiar with her, really. This time he realizes this as he crosses the distance towards her.


Sometimes teenaged boys need to show off. Even the ones who are forty. Still teenagers, still prone to showing off as the mood takes them. A string of those eternal chessboard tables and chairs occupied by immoveable elders whose grandparents probably claimed the roost will always be a war front. Even if the music is pleasant and the anthems of a summer about unrequited love and job loss, growing up, growing old, and growing grim soar over the humid air.

Jen doesn't have anything to eat though some of those sandwiches and baskets of food are starting to look awful good. A reuben sandwich slapped between thick marbled rye has a special look and smell calling to the senses. Her elevated metabolism recognizes good food when it senses it. She knows better than to stare, though, and stretches her arms out behind her instead. A shift of her shoulders dislodges her filmy scarf, and the sweltering heat leaves an unpleasant trickle. Maybe there should have been a stop by that last water fountain…

"Yes?" Instant reaction to her name being called, she snaps to attention. Slows, too. She tucks the blue scarf's ends under the loop. "Mr. Cho! You managed to escape your awful rocket mobile and get out to enjoy the charms of the city?"


Of course he needs a little mental workouts. The older folks seem to get a kick out of Cho and his skill with chess and that alone was worth it. The attention isn't so terribly either, were he to be completely honest. They watch him leave and eventually fill the empty seats and start ten new games. It's back to chatter about politics, the way the world has been changing, and the kind of crap the kids these days like.

When Cho closes that distance to Jennifer, a brighter smile raises to his lips. Kirby is in tow, of course. The yipping and bounding from the little coyote puppy draws some looks, but many of these New Yorkers have ever seen a coyote puppy before. The little animal stops when he does and whips into a little spin.

"Well, I'm being watched," he replies to her, gesturing around to the exact positions that agents are posted to keep an eye on him. "Good behavior, though. I wanted to thank you for being cool the other night." The last bit spoken is done when his eyes and attention are completely on her again. "Can I buy you lunch or something as a proper 'thank you'?"


The shuffle on the board to set up pieces and decide which armies advance first through which pieces briefly captures Jen's attention. She smiles when anyone looks her way. Even in casual wear for her, she has a somewhat nerdy, downplayed element. Modest, maybe. Her espadrilles scrape against the ground as she walks towards him, the hemp cords around her legs tugging and assuring the loose slap of shoe to heel.

"You brought company. If that isn't the cutest." Her nose wrinkles as she breaks into a full smile for just a second. "Better not let him down to Coney Island! All the hot dogs wouldn't stand a chance." Kirby has probably made a friend. At least someone who can appreciate the jocular pup and imagine his belly full to capacity with questionable meat products.

His admission causes her eyes to narrow, only a bit. "You okay with the arrangements? Typically that privilege gets reserved for senators and presidents. VIP treatment from your guests." Agents might be scrambling if she turned green, but she hasn't. "No need to thank me. I don't fancy escalating problems but solving them. Not that everyone believes that, but it's true." Her gaze meets his, another of those smaller smiles coming out. "Thanks isn't necessary for doing the right thing, but we can mosey and find some place with hamburgers around here, I'm sure. Maybe you can tell me how you're doing? I was worried about you. Still am."


Amadeus' own clothing is typical for him. The pinstripe suit looks a bit oddly out of place, but still fitting. He's all nerd, but boldly so. Brown eyes do shift to look at her face for a moment, but they somewhat shyly turn away. His own leather dress shoes shine in the light of the sun. One would think the suit would be burning up hot, but he doesn't seem to be breaking a sweat at the moment. It could be whatever that crazy thing is made out of or how it's made.

Cho does look back and down over his shoulder to Kirby as the puppy yips and moves quickly to start pawing and rolling around near Jen's shoes. "Oh, yeah. I don't really…go anywhere without him, you know? You met Kerberos before, right?"

As she refuses thanks in her most humble ways and claiming it as just 'doing the right thing', he gives a bit of a roll of his eyes and smirks at her. "I believe you. I mean - you're Bruce's coousin. It doesn't surprise me that good character kind of runs in the family." With a soft laugh then, he squints a bit up at her and motions with his head towards a burger place on the corner. "Well, then let me treat you to lunch because you're far too pretty and nice to brutally reject my genius, studly self and my puppy. Heh. I'll figure out a way to live on, but is that a face you want to see broken-hearted?" He geestures then to Kirby who just tilts his little grey-fuzzed head in what looks like a confused expression. Laughing, he makes a gesture with one hand towards the burger place. "And sure. I'll tell you how everything is."


Take a pair of crisp capris in a warm turquoise shade, pair to a white blouse, and top with a striped blue and white scarf. If this is French chic, Jen nails it. Mostly. She has the blouse buttoned a bit too high to be really cool in that Bardot kind of way. Hair is something of a disaster for awesome, too tightly wound in a pretty bun. Going green fixes everything, though.

"Do you have need of a handkerchief?" Trust her to have one. Of course, even monogrammed. She pulls it from her pocket, folded up into the tidiest square this side of an Italian restaurant. "You look so dapper, only fair that Kerberos have a chance too." Her voice catches a second. "Though he doesn't strike me as the guardian of Hades, mind. Maybe all the souls stay because he is charming."

Attentive to Amadeus means listening, really listening and not glazing along to amuse him with small talk. It goes with the profession as a reflex. "Bruce and I go way back. He's more my brother than my cousin in some ways. Though sounds as though while I was all caught in law school, he neglected to tell me a few things. Oh well! Nothing like a family surprise and all." A pause there. "Not in the family way, of course. But … oh, speckles, I'm just digging myself a hole."


"I mean that about you being pretty, though," Cho says with a slight nod of trepidation to the woman he's now walking with towards the burger place. "All the more reason to look into, well…" He pauses a moment and then clears his throat, trying to remain classy as possible. "Alternative clothing materials. Something a bit more stretchy." Wrinkling up his nose then, he lets his eyes settle on hers a brief moment before looking forward again. "I think I might be able to come up with a composite that has more give…if you want."

Brown eyes look over her briefly again before he gives his head a shake in response to needing a handkerchief. A bitof color does rise to his cheeks when she tells him he looks dapper. "Yeah. My dad always said a man should have at least one suit. Mine just generates…a force field, basically." With a shrug then, he gestures with his right hand while he walks along with her. "Maybe I have a thing for the classics when it comes to names too."

With that said, he scoops Kirby up and holds him over one shoulder so that Jen can pet him if she wants. His eyes go a little wide at the family surprise comment and he laughs a touch. "Uh…heh. I probably hold the record for awkward conversations with the opposite sex, so…trust me. You're good." With another brief laugh he blows hhis bangs out of his face a bit and gets the door to the burger joint for her. "Well, Bruce you know. He likes his privacy and he respects other peoples'."


"Mr. Stark owes me something of a debt and I can write it into any settlement proposed for the apprehension of a legitimate American citizen and unlawful detainment. Half of that subsectioning he threw out about Shield directives applies only in a hostile situation and by the time he invoked it, the hostile forces in question were subdued and in no capacity to do you any harm," Jen replies, picking her words in a way not to sound very tart. That takes a touch more effort than saying 'Howard Stark threw his weight around, what a loser.'

She shrugs her shoulders and allows the matter to gracefully drop. At least the incarceration. "This wonderful stuff called elastene works kind of well, but it's hot and hard to get. Not that it compares to a suit that generates a force field or causes gravitational disruptions. I don't think the US government would stand for me being inside something like that." Her gaze skims over the crowd to keep an eye on the location of the agents and any signs the audience for the small concert gets restless. Finding none, she keeps right on the path at a comfortable amble towards hamburger stand land. Kirby gets a mild pet. It's plain to anyone with eyes she is not used to animals.

"Bruce gets caught up in work, and so do I. That's quite all right. I think I might start having family dinners on Sunday nights or something where friends can drop by." She grins. "Any excuse not to peer into another box of records and write a brief."


Making his way through the ebb and flow of what crowd there is around the bandstand, a young man in jeans and a t-shirt with a green overshirt steps through to take up a few places that he can get a good angle on the musicians. Nothing too theatrical, just a short from standing on a bench for a moment, then another from taken across the thoroughfare. His camera clicks and whirs as he records some of the festivities for posterity, not that Jameson is likely to pay for any of it… but sometimes it's just nice to enjoy the craft of photography.

Of course, with that done, he stops as he stands amongst some people who are applauding for the performers, a set apparently having completed. The photographer checks his watch, blinking a few times as time apparently has kept on slipping into the future. He bites his lower lip and then casts his gaze towards the direction where, coincidentally, Jennifer Walters had been waiting.

He quickly breaks down his camera as he moves, slipping around a few tourists without really looking, as he starts placing camera components into the case and then snapping the leather container shut with a click. It's only once that's done that he finds himself there, looking around for whomever as he rests his hands on his hips, brow furrowed as he tries to locate whatever must have drawn him out and about here at this time of night.


Reading between the lines easily enough, Cho lets that smirk stretch one corner of his lips again as he moves along into the small burger joint. Kirby is spirited away under his jacket once again to keep the puppy well out of sight of any of the staff. It's likely they don't allow dogs, much less coyotes. The city really is no place for the puppy affectionately named Kerberos. Stepping inside himself then, he starts making his way on towards the front counter and takes out his wallet in the process.

Counting out a few bills, what remains of the prize money won from Brain Fight, the rather dapper young asian man with the eterna-punk hair nods. He folds the bills and then makes his way on in and to a table. "Well, I haven't seen Bruce in a while," he admits. He settles into the chair and grabs for one of the menus sitting on the tabletop. "Not since New Mexico, anyways. I don't know about invading someone's house for a real dinner…just yet. Sort of an alien concept. Maybe someday." There's a smile given before he shifts his attention to the man with the camera, studying him for a moment.

Pictures could be bad, so Amadeus sinks a bit in his chair and waits for one of the servers to come by.


Jennifer in her original complexion, not the vitamin H enhanced one, doesn't stand out too much. The professional lurking in casual clothes could be the giveaway. Good posture, too attentive, and she's basically always the spokeswoman for being tidily arranged. Finding her today means looking for the striped silk-like scarf around her shoulders in a bonjour to French stylings. See, she's trying.

Cho and Walters head towards a hamburger joint beyond the bandstand where the pedestrians are few. Agents from Shield get the unfriendly task of trying to look casual about following their Asian mark. She does look over her shoulder in turn, registering who comes and goes, much more than the average person would. Maybe it's a dead tell. Maybe she looks for something else, like Nick Fury grumbling as he goes past. "Like I said, he gets caught up in his work. A social call won't be out of the ordinary especially since the press realizes he probably doesn't wear a skirt to go jumping off buildings." Her cheeks totally aren't turning pink at this admission. She may be staring at her toes, though, and halted in the doorway where spotting her is beyond easy.

And when it comes down to it, the person with the camera case probably stands out too. Queue furious waving. Bouncing on her espadrilles. "Give me a second, would you? I see a— he's— Peter!" The door pulls open, his name called out.


It's not the first time that Peter's been adrift somewhere looking rather lost with his hands on his hips that he's been saved by a distant voice calling out his name. He turns around, looking back… forth, and perhaps it takes some waving to draw his attention. But once he espies Ms. Walters his eyebrows rise and a smile springs to life as he lifts a hand to wave as well.

Slinging the camera off his hip and towards the small of his back, the young 'journalist' starts to make his way towards the burger joint, his steps quick and his crowd evasion protocols working well. Once he closes the distance he lifts his voice, not as loud as the Hulkette. "Hey, Jen!" He reaches the door and looks up at the burger place's display placard, then looks inside. He gestures with a thumb towards the interior and if he receives an affirmative he slips on into the restaurant.

"Hey, sorry I was late. There was a… thing."


Amadeus gives a lift of his brows to Jen as he sits there, slumped down in his chair. Focusing his attention on Jen for the moment as she speaks, he gives her a discerning look for the moment. Finally, he exhales what might be a laugh and smiles at her. "I know. I used to work with him. A bit." When he was a kid, of course. "He didn't wear a skirt last time I checked, but I won't rule out stress-induced delirium driving him to it." Again, he laughs and then geestures towards her, not minding her getting up to go see who she's going to see apparently. "Gotcha'," he says, giving her a thumbs-up sign.

For the moment, he just slumps back in his chair still, avoiding camera fire. Being in SHIELD custody doesn't mean there aren't still a lot of people looking for him.


Jen does no running. She sheepishly squeezes up to the wall for anyone else to get into the restaurant. Though when Peter takes notice of the attorney trying to flag his attention to the hamburger joint her manner shifts into something a bit more relieved. No need to keep impersonating a windmill. "Hey, you." You has a bit more weight than it might. "I caught up with one of my clients, who happens to be my cousin's protege. You might be interested in hearing how we met. It involved telling Howard Stark /no/ about something."

She's pleased as punch about that, and guides him back towards the table where Amadeus and a baby coyote act cool by staying out of sight. Along the way, she winks back to the Asian before slipping on the opposite side of the table. "Amadeus Cho, Peter Parker. Peter, this is whom I talked about." Her grin becomes mildly mischievous as she picks up an older conversation thread. "Bruce in a skirt, let's not think about that. The story about the dress and the apron only come out after the baby pictures. I keep that for blackmail material."


"Oh that's crazy, did I tell you I might be working with him?" Peter replies to Jen and then offers a jovial wave towards Amadeus, smile included. He then slides his hands into his pockets as he follows after her, footsteps light and quick as he steps around a few people getting up to throw away their garbage before heading out of the joint.

"Good to meet you, Amadeus." He says as he gets close enough that it's not too terribly indecorous that he'd have to shout. His hand slides out of his pocket and he extends it to the young man for a rather unaggressive shake if it's accepted.

"You chose a good attorney, Jen's pretty keen." Yeah, he said keen. But his smile is open and engaging, so perhaps he gets points for that.

He slides into the seat beside Jen and winces a bit as he seems to apparently have a hum-dinger of a bruise on his shoulder that he rubs for a moment before setting his camera bag down beside his chair. He, rather politely, doesn't try to cut off their already engaged conversation, seeming to settle in as he reaches for a menu to consider.


As Peter approaches the tablealong with Jen now, Cho lifts a hand to give the guy a wave of one hand. The addition of a new voice has a fuzzy, grey coyote puppy head popping up out of his pinstripe suit jacket then, little dark pink tongue poking from his muzzle just a bit. "Amadeus Cho, freelancer of all things science," he says before another brief huff of breath that might be a laugh pushes from his lips. "Heh. Not one I'd tell from the beginning. Long story short - running away with The Hulk, domestic terrorism, arch enemy, yada yada…" He makes a circular gesture with his hand before he takes Peter's. "Thanks."

"And I think I'll let Miss Walters take it from there." Cho grins at Pete, retrieving his hand after a firm shake. "And well…any friend of Banner's."

A light shrug is given then before he shifts his attention to Jennifer and lifts his brows. "You know if anyone ever brought that up to him, he'd give them that…you know how he gives you that stern math teacher look?" His face twists up in mirth as he snickers at them. "When he's wearing his glasses especially."


"Name me three people in the city except me who don't work for Howard Stark by four degrees of separation. I'm starting to think he owns every other building in Manhattan and bankrolls everyone under forty around here," Jen replies. She might wish to slump into the booth but her back hasn't ever been that curved in her adult life. Instead she attacks a menu stuck together by grease and ketchup. A priceless look of buyer's remorse shows on her face for a moment. Pinching the corner means she peels the pages open with a distinct, ugly noise.

Fries, burgers, a Coney dog, and chili. The menu is pretty typical. "Want to share a basket?" she asks, pointing to the fries. "I don't think I could finish one all by myself and a hamburger. Or a cheeseburger, actually. The pickles here are supposed to be pretty great." Let Peter be the most earnest welcome wagon ever, and she focuses on food. Not surprising given she's a secret giantess.

Compliments need to be ducked. "He's a biased observer." Important statement here. "Do not believe anything Mr. Cho or Mr. Banner tell you. Unless it happens to be about my good side."


"He very well might, but this is through the Bugle. You think he might own a piece of that too?" Peter asks her as he points towards the chili dog and then his eyebrows rise, "How about that?" His lip twitches but then he acquiesces. "Ok ok, kidding. Sure, split a fries and a cheeseburger."

But then he turns his attention back towards Amadeus and smiles openly, "Sorry, Amadeus. But if I may, what is it a freelancer of science does?" He adjusts his seat a bit to get it out of the aisle some, nudging his camera bag out of the way as he tries to make sure the waitress can get by. "I mean, I sort of have an idea. But it's a rather romantic imagining. I picture you amongst beakers and tesla coils, cackling and making corpses come back to life. That or a research assistant. Either/or."


There's a curious look given to Jen as she challenges the question of who in New York doesn't work for Stark by at least four degrees of seperation. "Well, me," Cho says with a grins before he too looks at the menu. "Let's see here. Going to start with five burgers, a large order of fries, (oo!) coney dog!, and…that's good." Closing up the menu then, he looks to Pete expectantly. "Here you go. I'm buying." He slides the menu to Pete while lifting his gaze again to Jen. "Oh! No, I'm good. You just get whatever." Big grain.

"Exploration, discovery…yeah. It pretty much is as romantic as it gets, I guess." Amadeus settles his gaze on Peter and beams that grin at him now. "Problem-solving, a lot of the time. My current project involves wormhole mechanics, but I'm…stability, see." Clearing his throat then, he winds a finger in the air a moment. "I made 'this thing' out of a bit of an anomoly, so it's a prototype. From what I can discern from the properties I've been able to observe /so far/, the atomic attributes of the material, for whatever reason, reversed polarity. So…take from that what you will. At the end of the day, it's just risk versus reward."


Jen taps her noggin. "He thinks you work for him. That's what makes the difference, maybe. Whom doesn't Howard Stark think he owns, owes or bosses around? I'm starting to think it's only the Queen of England because she has all the jewels and the very pretty face." Diversions from the finger pointing at a chili dog on the menu are necessary so neither man sees her repulsed expression. She even sticks her tongue out behind the menu at Peter, holding it up to maintain that sense of decorum. A sense that survives being alternately green, seven feet tall, and generating a tiny gravitational field.

"He totally cackles. He better. I mean, I need lots of lightning flashing and arcing through -my- lab whenever the spirit of mixing some chemicals comes upon me." Bride of Frankenstein moment descending, the lawyer steeples her fingers together. "Oh yes. Yessss, friendsss. I have it. The inspiration… Chili on the fries!" Her fingers open and then Jen hides behind her menu again. "Five burgers. You really are Bruce's student. I am going to pretend he is ordering ten of them, and if half vanish no one gets to blame me. We blame the puppy. Got it? Good."


"Wow," Peter smiles openly, "That's like, way more advanced than anything I'm studying. I'm in my last year at Empire State, Materials Chemistry." Shaking his head, the brown-haired photographer looks entirely engaged by the terms that Amadeus rattles off, "That really is the dream though, right? The freedom to advance your research down the avenue you like."

But then he looks again to the menu and smiles, "I'm good with just the cheeseburger and chili fries," He smiles back to Jen, "We can share, sure."

"So…" He looks between them, "You're both starting to make me worry a bit about this Howard Stark guy. What should I know about him? I mean, I know Stark, Stark trademark, Stark. And I read about some of his work in Scientific American, but it sounds like he's got… a deplorable excess of personality?"


Amadeus goes back to looking at a menu, flicking his tongue out between his lips briefly and then letting it poke out there. Kirby, the fuzzy grey coyote puppy poking his head out from over his jacket, almost mirrors this expression. He then cranes his fuzzy neck down to lick at the menu. "Cut it out, Kerberos," he says, using the puppy's full name in that authoritarian tone. Carefully, he tries to tuck the puppy back away.

Looking up then, Cho ticks his brown eyes from Jennifer to Peter. "I cackle," he confirms with a grin. To Jennifer then, he gives a nod of his head. "Howard's not…bad," he says, glancing briefly to Pete and then back again. "But he is an egomaniac. The worst thing you'll suffer is whiplash from the eyeroll in your soul being too much for your body. It's often a lack of perspective, but his genius is super-focused when he's working on something." Grinning then, he gives her a quick upnod before explaining, now for both of them.

"I burn it all as fuel," Cho tells them before tapping the side of his head. "My brain is hyperactive, basically. In order to perform at the level my brain does, it needs tons of junk food. Buuut, when I'm performing hundreds of trillions of complex quantum algorithms simultaneously…mah brain needs fooood. The worse it is, the better."


Jen puts down the menu, set on the agreement of splitting more food than any one person has right to consume. She goes about popping a napkin over her lap and listening to the two of them instead. "Howard is, in my very limited experience, driven by his projects. He is also blunt like a hammer, and seems to have a very inflated opinion of himself. I wonder sometimes how smart those projects are. Not my area of expertise entirely though they were when I was stuck on patent work." The face she pulls there is weary, only a flash.

"The idea that you are hyperactive never would have crossed my mind, Mr. Cho. Do you have to sleep or have you perfected some way around that? I'm always looking to squeeze a few extra hours out of the day," she adds conversationally.

She nudges Peter with her elbow, and grins for the trouble.


"A pup! Very cute. I never had a dog unfortunately. Queens isn't the best place to bring up a dog. Tiny tiny yards." Peter confides to Amadeus as he looks at Kerberos, but then he settles back in his seat, glancing sidelong towards Jen and smiling towards her. He shifts his attention back towards Amadeus as he listens and then nods at the young man's opinion of Howard. Eventually he murmurs, "That's interesting. There was a study in Der Zuchter I think it was about how the meta human physiology functions at higher levels causing an increase in caloric intake as well as body temperature, not to mention unique characteristics between individuals."

But then he looks sheepishly between them, and offers a small shrug, "Though I suppose I could be wrong. Not that I know, and all."

Peter then turns towards Jen and gives a nod, "Well, I'll try and not let him colour my opinions too much."


"Who knows?" Amadeus asks, rhetorically. He smiles to Jen then and takes a burger in hand. "I'd be interested in getting a peek at some of his notes myself, if I'm honest." There is a shameless shrug of his shoulders at that then and the young man gestures to her. "I'm not…/hyper/," he says, wrinkling up his nose. He then looks to Peter and gives a shrug of his shoulders. "Or a metahuman, if we're going by the contemporary, biological definition. Just a freak among the freaks, I guess."

Cho reaches a hand down and gives Kirby a scratch on his head. "Coyote," he replies to Pete with a smile. "His name's Kerberos." He does lift himself a bit so Pete can reach out to the puppy if he wants. "You're on the right track, though. I don't 'blip' as metahuman as far as what can be observed, but there are any number of possibilities that make me…me. I just don't care." With a laugh then, he holds up a hand. "That's a lie. I just…don't know. I've been taking up meditation."

The burger he has is pulled apart so that he can break the patty up for Kirby.


The food is quick on its way, delivered in heaps for them all. Big portions are an American tradition and New York is no different. Then general scientific conversation is not fully lost on Jen but she does attack the fries like they're going out of style. In a mannered way, such as a thing can exist. If Kerberos gets a fry or another kind of present on the end of a fork, lucky him.

"Whatever makes us us is unique, and that is true for anyone in this building. It's an exciting age to live in," the attorney notes. "Especially having a conversation about these things right here. No fear, just consideration. There might be hope for us after all."

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