1963-09-08 - It's Only Gravity
Summary: Johnny makes a new friend on his way to pick up dinner.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
sinjin johnny 


It's approaching dinnertime in the Big Apple, which means one thing: traffic. And because it is raining cats and dogs on this September afternoon, the traffic is even worse than usual, because literally noone on this Earth knows how to drive once the pavement is a little damp. Noone.

The only reason Johnny Storm has even bothered with an umbrella is that he's on his way to pick up some take-out for dinner. Sure, he could have ordered it to be delivered, but… he needed to get out. He doesn't have food in his posession yet, however, so the umbrella remains tightly closed and slung over his shoulders as he makes his way down the sidewalk, seeming quite content to be completely sopping wet.

Not like it's gonna be hard for him to dry off.

*

Sidewalk traffic is just as bad, especially since the path ahead is blocked by an elderly man in uniform holding an very large umbrella for an equally large gentleman in a glossy dark fur coat. A silver-haired woman draped in white is willowy enough to fit under the shelter, pressed against his side.

"You won't come with us, darling?" she trills to someone behind her. "It's vile out and you know how Marcus adores your company for dinner."

"Helen speaks the truth, my angel." Marcus has the rippling voice of an opera singer. "But we understand if you have meetings. You must sign with an agent before you go stale."

"I'm twenty-three," a young man says from the doorway. "Years before I go stale. Don't worry, friends, if I can't find an agent, I'll just have a scandal to keep fresh."

"Oh, Sinjin," the woman says as she's tucked into a waiting limousine. "Don't be reckless."

"Whatever will I write about if I'm not?" A red-headed young man — revealed as Marcus wedges himself into the limousine next to Helen — lights a cigarette in the shelter of the doorway. "Don't worry, I have something lined up."

"You can always stay with us." Marcus blows him a kiss just a second before the ancient driver slams the door, then casts Sinjin a disapproving glare.

"Eyes on the road, Carson," Sinjin says dryly. "Drive carefully. That's my backup plan in there." The driven huffs audibly, snaps the umbrella shut, then teeters around to take his place in the car.

*

Traffic jam on the sidewalk. This is… well, not new, but unexpected. There are a small handful of people that are held up ahead of Johnny, who lolls his head back to gaze skyward as he waits with a slightly pained twist of his face.

If he could just fly, he'd be home with food by now.

He doesn't notice right away once the obstruction is no longer there and people are walking again — it takes someone shouldering their way past him to get him paying attention again, and Johnny turns to peer after them with a surprised, insulted expression.

<Aish! Excuse you,> Johnny grumbles in Korean, sniffing once before he turns to face forward again. Where was he going? Right. Take-out.

*

<Rude of them,> Sinjin says with a chuckle. "Must be tourists or they'd know who you are, right?" He hasn't moved from the doorway, yet. No sense ruining a perfectly good post-lunch cigarette.

*

<Oh, psh, having a known face doesn't mean -> Wait. He's speaking Korean. Because it was spoken to him, and not by his sister.

Johnny stops mid-step to look over at Sinjin, blinking owlishly from under his sopping wet hair before he flashes a downright radiant smile. "You speak Korean! I almost never run into anyone who does outside of Koreatown."

*

<Well, I wouldn't forget your face easily, that's for certain.> Sinjin winks and straightens up, tossing his hair back. "I'm afraid my Korean is rusty, and the accent is painfully Australian, but it's passable. Not much chance to practice anymore." The last of the cigarette disappears in a hot little puff and drifting ash, then Sinjin offers Johnny a handshake. "St. John Allerdyce. Sinjin. Not Saint, no matter how Americans insist on pronouncing it." The smile is not remotely saintly.

*

Johnny doesn't even try not to laugh as he steps closer, smiling broadly. No sense blocking the sidewalk himself, after all, and it would be rude not to accept the offered handshake. His own grip is confident and his hand is, perhaps unsurprisingly, warm. Almost too warm. Almost. "Sinjin," he repeats, with a firm nod. And if it's a matter of Americans being silly with correct pronunciation, well… "Joon. Nice to meet you."

*

"Delighted, Joon." Sinjin does manage to get Johnny's name right, in spite of the Australian accent. He sounds sincere, shakes Johnny's hand and gives it a little squeeze before letting him go. "Where are you headed? You looked like a man on a mission and I shouldn't keep you, not in this weather."

*

Broad smile still in place, Johnny shrugs his shoulders and cranes his neck to look up the street, reaching up to run a hand back through his hair to slick it back out of his face. "Honestly? I just needed to get out for a few minutes. But the cover story is picking up something for dinner."

*

"It's been a restless year," Sinjin says a bit cryptically. "I'd suggest that ridiculous microwave restaurant for some amusement but I'm guessing the Baxter Building has at least one of those already—probably doubles as a ray gun or something. I'll walk with you, unless you'd rather be alone. Maybe you can sate my curiosity about the ray gun issue. My last editor told me I couldn't give my hero one because it was far too unrealistic."

*

"Your edi — I thought your name sounded familiar!" Beaming, Johnny takes a quick look around to be sure he's not about to catch anybody in the face before he unfurls his umbrella. Now that it isn't just him who would need to be kept dry. "I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of rayguns. I mean, seriously, I can't, Reed might have built one in the ten minutes I've been gone. I have no idea."

*

"So, not unrealistic at all," Sinjin says triumphantly. "At least: you didn't laugh in my face. That's good enough for me. Small men, small minds, small visions—terrible for science and for art." He steps under the umbrella with Johnny as soon as it's open. "You'd think with people like us in the world the rest would be more imaginative. Instead, it's just given them new certainty that nothing else is possible."

*

Johnny does not miss 'people like us,' but he also does not press for elaboration. He just beams and, once Sinjin's joined him under the umbrella, gets back to walking without a particular destination in mind. "You would think. People react badly to what they don't understand," he says with a tired sigh, head cocked slightly to one side. "And it's easier to just be angry and afraid than to try and become more informed. I've never understood it."

*

"What's remarkable about you and your little clan is not what you can do but that you do anything at all," Sinjin says, his expression going stormy for a moment. "That is what is unrealistic about this story you four are writing for the world. It's good that you don't understand that part of humanity, Joon. Charming as well as good. Don't try. I've never found an explanation for it that appeases my need to make sense of things."

*

"But if I don't try to understand it, I lose the right to complain about people being unwilling to learn about things," Johnny points out with a wry smile, though when he looks over and sees Sinjin's expression, his own softens. Hm. "Still. You do have a point."

*

"Though the risk is small here, there are other things…" Sinjin puts his hand on Johnny's arm, lightly, to bring him to a halt at a corner where a family is piling into a cab. "Other things, you shouldn't try to understand. You fight enough monsters, from what I understand. Spend too long thinking about something so empty and immutable, you risk either joining it or despairing and, in despairing, becoming its ally."

*

The touch at his arm is enough to make Johnny stop almost without thinking about it, though he does cast a quick glance ahead to see what it is he isn't walking into thanks to the intervention. Oh, good. <Thank you.>

"We don't fight too many monsters, actually," Johnny replies in a thoughtful voice, self-consciously rubbing the back of his neck as he and Sinjin wait for their path to once again clear. "It's… honestly, it's mostly people whose circumstances forced their hand. Some of them are bigger jerks than others, but I don't think any of them have qualified as monsters." Not yet, anyway. "Small mercies."

*

"Small mercies are like cheap rosaries," Sinjin says dryly. "Rely on them too often and they come to pieces in your hands the moment you pray too hard. But it's good to hear that your adventures to date haven't included anything more sinister than some 'jerks'." He laughs quietly, then winks at Johnny. "Maybe you were born under a good star."

*

Johnny chuckles and ducks his head as he adjusts his grip on the umbrella. "My sister did recently suggest that I was made of luck," he says in a light voice. As he starts across the street, he adds, "Of course, this was immediately before somebody basically told me to keep out of their neck of the woods 'cos they value their privacy and I'm a flashy camera magnet, which… yeah, fair, I guess."

*

"Flashy camera magnet?" Sinjin laughs outright at that. "That's a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one. I live for a good backhand, at least when it comes to compliments. I obviously need to step up my game if I'm going to be living in the same town as you."

*

"Well, she didn't say it quite like that, but it's not far off," Johnny says with a sigh, but despite everything, he does aim a smile over at Sinjin as they walk. "Westchester's a sleepy town and she seemed pretty convinced that journalists wandering out there would give people problems. I am to consider it a no-fly zone. Eh." He waves his free hand dismissively, looking ahead. "It's fine. The city's more my speed anyway."

*

"Lovely area, Westchester. Incredibly proper." It does not sound like a compliment the way Sinjin says it. "I don't know if you've guessed," he says, giving Johnny a coy look, "but proper is not my strong suit."

*

That actually gets a legitimate — if brief — cackle out of Johnny, who tries bumping Sinjin with his shoulder. "I try, now that I have to be a good example, but it's so boring. The fact that I'm walking right now? Absolutely killing me, man." He draws in a deep breath and lets it puff up his cheeks before he exhales, dropping his chin in resignation. "Ah well. Wouldn't have met you if I was flying by, so it's not all bad, right?"

*

Sinjin chuckles, bumping back companionably. "There is something to be said for taking one's time, when the occasion calls for it. I envy you the flying. I think if I could, I wouldn't walk, either. But I don't trust my own attention span. Still." He peers at the sky from under the edge of the umbrella. "What's the worst that could happen? It's only gravity, right?"

*

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