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Mree pats his palms on the steering wheel while sitting in traffic, looking less than concerned about all the congestion, and unable to shake the killer beat on this song on the radio. "Oh, yah, III" pat-pat, pat, "Tell you soooomething," pat-pat, pat, "I think you'll understand…" he sings along, finally swinging into a parking spot not too far from a collection of street vendors with their carts steaming away over collections of hot dogs, big ol' pretzels, all kinds of horrble-for-you streetcorner goodies that Mree has a particular fondness for. But even then he's not too eager to hop out and grab something, not while he's in the throes of the British Invasion. "When III say that something— I wanna hold your HAAAAND!" That's. That's not the right note, Mree. Like, at all. But what he lacks in singing skills he makes up for in enthusiasm, and he finally shuts off the car and springs up and out of the open-top convertible bug, tail slithering behind him and almost helping push him out of the vehicle by pressing against the seat below him. He draws it up behind him in a tall arc once his feet hit pavement, so as not to hit anyone with it while walking, but even so, it's not the best place to go walking when you're green and be-tailed, and soon enough someone 'accidentally' shoves him into a cart, sending him skittering a step over and biting at his lower lip as he backes his leg against a metal edge. "Oh, sorry— sorry," he apologizes first to the cart owner, then to the person who pushed him. He obviously shouldn't have been in the way.
*
While Hell's Kitchen is fairly self-sufficient, it does happen that one must step outside of the neighborhood in order to obtain certain items, foodwise or other. While he is still mostly by himself in the Tenement Apartment he shares, Kurt has a small food allowance which lets him go shopping for groceries a couple times a week. It wouldn't be a good thing if Fury came back to an empty pantry and refrigerator!
He's bought enough this trip to carry a paper bag, one in each hand, as he makes his way from the market in Midtown towards Hell's Kitchen. He could have teleported, but he wasn't sure if he'd end up losing some of the groceries — those apples were a little precarious in the bag. The last thing he needs is to drop some food item between 'here' and 'there'.
*
Beads of sweat roll off Sue's skin as she trails through Midtown Manhattan. Yet even as she perspires, she shivers beneath the ridiculously large wool sweater that she'd swiped from Ben's former clothes closet. It was too nice not to keep, she'd argued. The rock-man had explained he had no use, and so Sue had kept it — hoping against hope that one day Ben himself would use it again.
The grey sweater that is far too big for her almost entirely hides the black dress that peeks out an inch or two underneath the fuzzy blanket of warmth.
Her hands retreat further into the sweater as she tugs on a bag of her own. Half-lidded eyes, puffy and red, stare blankly at the ground in front of her, instead of where she's going. It should come as no surprise, then, that when she sneezes (a ridiculously demure sound) A-choo, she quite literally trips over a tail as she moves.
THUD
She groans lightly as she rolls onto her back.
Oddly, as she does so, NOTHING seems to be wearing both the sweater and the skirt that peeks out beneath it. The small brown package from the pharmacy has travelled several feet into the long line waiting at the cart, and the sweater and dress do an odd push up back to a stand.
*
Mree is just about straightened out when he goes all totally distracted seeing a bag of apples being toted by someone who— well. Looks as weird as he does. The irony of his stopping to stare, as so many people have stopped to stare at him, is more or less lost on him, since his gaze is without fear or malice; hope, rather, and a sudden pressing need to go move through the crowd and try to catch up with him, whether or not he's gotten a hot dog yet or not. It's this dazed moment that has his tail slithering groundward to provide a hazard for poor Sue, and Mree is about horrified by his faux pas when it happens, a bright emerald blush rising to his pale seaglass green complexion. "Oh, goodness, are you well?" he asks, beginning to crouch even as she rolls over into— nothing. Wha— he tried to help the empty sweater up, anyhow.
*
Nightcrawler hears the sneeze and then the sound of someone tripping and it turns him around to look for the poor victim. New York sidewalks can be hell, especially when people don't mind their tails. His own tail takes hold of one of the bags leaving his hand free to help…but a green person with the offending tail seems to be there already. Instead, he moves to retrieve the pharmacy package from the line by the hot dog cart. It's gently tucked into the bag with the apples on top and he regains hold of that bag in his arm even as he quietly pads over to the green person and the moving sweater.
*
A very loud sniffle emits from the sweater as Sue, rather dizzily, attempts to right herself. Her brain feels foggy as she stands staring at Mree. Her brain struggles to understand what is going on or how she fell across the pavement as a rather dulling fog has settled over her mind. "I…" she looks down at the ground, and the sweater slouches, almost like accepting some semblance of defeat. "…am okay," her voice nasal and detached wretches out.
Evidently the flu has come early this year.
She clears her throat and cranes her neck, which mostly looks like a sweater careening around the line. "I.. had…" the sweater rubs across her face, scratching it as it moves. "…medicine?" but then Nightcrawler enters her view, and she issues him an invisible smile. "Th-thanks…" her voice scratches.
*
"I'm so sorry, miss," Mree has always been quick with an apology; it's a good survival technique in a world full of people who hate you. Let them know you know you're inferior, and they feel less threatened and are more likely to leave you alone. But this— this was legitimately his bad, and so the apology comes more wholeheartedly, tinted with the heat of shame. "I don't know where my head is." Or where his tail is, evidently. And that's a lie, if a convenient one. He can't well say he was gaping at someone blue. But here he is doing it again when the fellow in question comes to aid in the recoery of the meds. "Thank you," he mumbles through awe-numbed lips, barely marking the words as he makes them. "Can— do you both want a pretzel or something? It's really the least I can do."
*
Nightcrawler's tail holds out the smaller package…it's easier than trying to rearrange the grocery bags again. "I hope you feel better, Fraulein…" he only assumes that from the pitch of her voice. Yellow eyes look to the green person, blinking only as if he's used to seeing strange people every day. After all, he just needs to look in the mirror to see a face that isn't at all considered 'average' or 'normal'. Not in the least. Sharp teeth show in a smile as he shakes his head, "Danke, but I am fine." He gives another hair-toss to get his bangs out of his eyes — his hair might be getting a little shaggy for want of a cut.
He looks back to the Sweater, "Do you need to go somewhere? Can I…" he looks again to the green man, "Can we help you?" Especially since she seems uncertain, aside from being invisible. Or just a talking sweater…which also must belong somewhere.
*
Sue waves off the apology — which looks a bit odd with a sweater suggesting that all is well. "It's fine," she sniffles loudly towards Mree as she shoots him a smile. "And pretzel.. unnecessary…" not to mention the thought of food has made her queasy all day. The package is gratefully accepted from Nightcrawler, but it's then that Sue realizes that she's gone inexplicably invisible. Her expression deadpans, and she brings her hands towards her face to inspect her fingers that can't be seen. She rubs her eyes again. "This is new…" she murmurs to herself.
"I…" the sweater straightens "…home… maybe?" she squints. "I was going — " she sniffles again " — to embassy row — " she points down one of the blocks, which is not remotely the right direction "but thought I would get medicine first." Before visiting some diplomat, no doubt. "I might be presentable enough to see an old.. acquaintance." As a sniffly, sneezy mess.
*
Mree wasn't going to say anything about the disappearance of the woman. He'd seen her, after all, for a few moments, rolling on the ground, before she vanished. Then, how do you broach that subject with a person? Pardon me, miss, but you seem to have developed a certain translucidity. Then, all suddenwise, something clicks. "Oh, wow, did you catch the bug from Vienna? My boss came down with it, too," his voice is all wincy to say so, words cautiously polite, no less. "I have my car here, if you guys want a ride," he offers. Who has a car in the city? Well, Mree does. But he loves his car, so sitting in it in traffic for hours is perfectly well by him.
*
"Is it new?" Kurt picks up on that statement as he looks to the talking sweater. "Are you all right?" It's not just because of her sniffles either. He looks from her to the green one as a bug in Vienna is mentioned as well as a car. "I am fine…I do not live very far from here und it would be hard to drive there, I think," since it would be through Times Square for the most direct routs. "You came all the way from Vienna and just now got ill?" That sounds…awful!
*
Sue rubs her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater again. "It's just a flu," she offers back towards Mree. "Just… not normally like this…" where she can't be seen. She coughs quietly. "Th-thank you. Both of you. I just need to get to the Latverian embassy to tell that man what's what!" she points her finger to punctuate each word, which mostly looks like a sweater waving up and down, and begs questions whether she's shaking a fist or doing something else.
But something does catch her attention, "I was in Vienna." She sniffles again. "Oh… Sick from travel." Pause. "Figures."
Achoo! the quick sneeze emits from her lips and she's visible again: Sue Storm in all her glory.
*
Mree nods his head quite sagely, as though he obviously knew what was going on. "Ms. Walters got sick on the trip, too. Oh!" he actually catches a better look at her face, "Ms. Storm! Hi! I'm sorry you got sick. It does seem like the same sort of thing Ms. Walters caught. She's having a bad time of it, I fear. But hopefully it'll pass. I wonder who else came down with it. You know what it's like when everyone is shaking hands with everyone. I didn't shake that many hands, I guess. Did you want a ride over there? Or… maybe… home… to get some rest?" he tries to posit the second idea as gently as he can.
*
Ah, there she is! There -is- a person there! Kurt smiles as the woman reappears but then he winces, "I think maybe you should go home und rest. Maybe get some chicken soup?" Because that's good for colds, right? Or flus?
*
There's a flicker of a smile at being recognized, but Sue looks far too sick for it to ever meet her eyes. She issues a two fingered wave. "N-n-no," because it's becoming an increasingly better idea to go see Victor now that he can officially see her. "I need to go to the embassy," she affirms through a scratchy voice. "I will…" she sniffles loudly. "…have soup after. And… stay in bed… until well…" maybe.
*
"Victor— from the conference? Is he sick, too?" Mree wonders, but it's a passing wonder, not a pressing one. "At least let me take you there," he beseeches her, head tipping to one side a degree or two for greater impact of pathos, the little curling tendrils at his jawline curling gingerly. "Make sure you get there safe, and then home?" Please, his eyes seem to read, and he glances gratefully to Nightcrawler in turn for his support of the idea that she should rest. "Ah— I'm Mree, by the way," he introduces himself.
*
Nightcrawler just shrugs; the woman is an adult and a stranger. He really has no ability to force her to stop and take care of herself. "Well then, I hope that you feel better very soon," is offered as he takes a step back. The introduction is met with a tilt of his head as he contemplates the offered name before he gives a nod, "Und I am Kurt. I would offer a hand, but…" they're busy holding grocery bags.
*
Pensively, Sue remains unconvinced about the ride. "I'll take the ride there… cab it home." Her lips tighten into a small smile. "Thank you." And then towards Kurt, she nods, "And thank you for — " her eyebrows draw together as if trying to remember what happened, and then she lifts the small bag from the pharmacy that he'd collected for her " — for this." From there, she's easy enough to coax into the vehicle.
*
"Hi, Kurt," the words from the greenish mutant are kind of breathy and hushed, dazzled to meet someone so like him— at least externally. "I work in Brooklyn— down at Goodman and Lieber—" he's trying to get some manner of contact established. "If you ever want to come by, the… the people there are really great. Really accepting and welcoming." Which is a great change from being in the most of the city. "Maybe I'll see you around?" he pipes up hopefully. "My car's over here, Ms. Storm," he escorts her thither.