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The night was slow at the bar, with only a few regulars moving in and out, keeping to themselves. They're happy, content, and know that this, this part of the city, and this bar, is a safe place, especially for thsoe of color. A waif of a girl is behind the bar, scrubbing it down before moving to work on drying a rack of glasses. Her skin is a rich mocha and her hair is a massive collection of floofy curls. She hums to herself, some melody that may not have words, but when spoken to, she offers a smile and talks back. Perhaps she's been here for long enough to build up a rapport with its patrons.
Depsite his 'description', Hank is not wearing the lab coat this evening, he has opted to dress down in a heavy dark green wool cardigan and a gray t-shirt esemble with corduroy pants.
As Hank walks into the establishment he pushes his glasses up his nose with an absent gesture… glancing around and seeming decidedly out of place here in the middle of harlem- despite his best efforts. He heads over to the bar and shoots the woman behind it a polite tight lipped little smile, "Evening."
Lynette smiles in return, her eyes glancing at the man, then away, before a second gland settles her dark eyes on his face. "Evenin'." The Creole greets and then starts toweling off her hands. "What c'n I get y'?" She questions, standing up right and tossing the cloth down to the back counter top.
Hank glances up and down the bar with a bit of theatrics, craning his neck as if to see who was in the immediate vicinity as he took his seat, oddly, he only orders a drink. "I'll have a scotch and water, please." He only waits a half a breath before he tosses her a lopsided grin to accompany the words, "Hold the scotch." Hank allows the slightest laugh before he added in a respectable tone, "I never drink on the job."
"Job? Y'workin' here?" She questions, her lips moving to the side and smirking at the joke. She gets him a water, from the tap of course, and sets it infront of him on its own little napkin. "C'n I ask what y'doin'? Wit work, I mean."
"Here?" Hank asked and there was an amusing awkwardly quality to his banter as he shifted in his seat on the bar stool, "I think you'd know if I worked here." He laughed again and explained, "I work at a school for gifted individuals.. I got a tip about a possible recruitment opportunity in the area." He takes the water with a tiny little nod and mutters a soft spoken thanks as he went in for a sip.
Lynette chuckles and shakes her head, her curls bouncing about. "Non, I know y'don' work here, chere. Dat's obvious. I was jus' askin' what y'doin' here if y'on de job." Then he explains himself, and she gives a soft 'oh' face, along with a nod. "I see. Ain't never heard of a place like dat, dough. Maybe I c'n help? Who y'lookin' for? Got dere name or anyt'ing?"
"No but I hear she works in this very place." Hank raises both his brows at the woman in an unspoken, 'can you imagine that!' He sets his water down smoothly and takes a thoughtful inhale of oxygen before he asked, "I don't suppose you know anyone you'd consider.." And there is a pointed pause as his face drew in to a serious cast again. "Gifted? Do you?"
Lynette pauses, looking up and over to Hank and just studying his face. She's tense, at first, before lowering her dark eyes and reclaiming the tossed away fabric. Work, work and distract yourself. "Don' know what y'talkin' 'bout." The girl murmurs gently. Y'work at dis school f'de gifted? What does dat even mean?".
"Well." Hank began conversationally as he folded his hand on the bar top, "I believe the /real/ meaning is a little bit different for each and every one of us.." He wrinkles his nose in passing and glances back down to the bar top with his own slate blue colored eyes, thoughtful, "And I think in the context I probably mean that both literally and figuratively." He looks back up and just smiles at her as he went for another sip of his water.
"I don' understand." She answers bluntly, her brows then sloping as she stands back, and crosses her arms under her petite chest. "What y'mean 'us'?"
Hank gives her a patient look and a mild shrug, "We all need a little more understanding." He cranes his neck and looks around again, "Do any other women about your age work here?"
Lynette shakes her head, her fingers idly tapping on her arms as she keeps staring to Hank, but at least she's listening. "No. Not dat I know of." Nibbling her lower lip, she takes a deep, shakey breath, and then takes a step closer, lowering her voice "Look…I don' know how y'heard 'bout me. Dat's my fault, n'I should be more careful. I jus'…I don' t'ink what I c'n do is a gift."
She has his full attention now and that is a vast and mighty span, Hank turns back to Lynette resting both his forearms on the bar and leaning in with a conspirator's whisper, "It never seems like one at first." The words come out with an empathetic honesty.
"It ain't ever dat way f'me. Ain't never gonna be. I hurt people, chere, 'n…dat's 'bout it." Glancing up, she nods when someone calls to her. "Jus' a sec." Moving away from the bar, she takes a pair by a table some fresh brews while cleaning up their empty, foam-residue glasses. Into the sink they go to soak. She glanes at Hank, and then walks closer to him as before, leaning over the bar. "So, what y'want? What y'really want wit me?"
"Maybe just a talk, in time-" Hank cranes his neck and he gets a tiny bit louder for a half second as she started to walk away before he got silent again. Waiting patiently he glances around and takes another sip of his water calmly, answering smoothly when she returned, "You can come look at the school if you'd like, it isn't far from the city and we can see if its a proper fit for you and your…" He gives a succint little nod, not flinching when she leaned in, "Gifts."
"I-I don' know." She frowns, looking up and around once more, trying to see if someone needs her. When they don't, she takes a breath and moves around the bar, taking up the stool by the man's side. They're a contrast, the pair, and not only just their skin tone. He's put together, posh even, and she's wearing hand me downs from a second hand store. "What y'doin' at dis school anyway? What's it for?"
Hank levels her with more his calm gaze, "We help folks with different talents learn how to control them better…" Hank sits up square and straight in his seat, "Also ya, know, english. And science, all your usual college level courses." There is a pause before he added, "I teach science, my name is Dr. McCoy. It is nice to meet you…" He raised both his brows is a sort of curious polite silent query for her name.
"Control?" She perks, finally, looking at him now directly. Then he continues to speak, "College?" Her fingers twitch, tapping at her chin in consideration. Once he gives his name, she offers her hand to him. "Lynette. M'name's Lynette." Then, she smiles. "C'n, c'n I visit de school?"
Hank shakes her hand and now that the pretext of mystery is lifted he has quite the broad and goofy grin, "Oh, certainly, you can come visit and talk to some of the other teachers there. We have accomidations on grounds for people who live too far to travel to the school every day. It is a very lovely campus."
"I don' know s'all. M'lookin' f'a place t'stay, but I c'n still work here, right? Luke's been so nice t'me, n'I like workin'." She admits, giving the room another glance and shuffling away to deal with another customer. It doesn't take her long, and once she reclaims her seat, she murmurs a gentle, 'sorry'. "What if dey don' want me, dough? Dey c'n say no, right?"
"I don't think we'd ever turn away a student who was in need, so long as they had the desire to learn.." Hank seems to remember where they are when she gets up to help a customer and he glances around again. Adjusting his posture as he spoke a bit more softly this time, "I don't see why you couldn't try to keep your job." He gives an honest bit of a shrug…
"Well, I c'n talk t'Luke. See what he t'inks." She decides, nodding. Her expression starts to shift now. At first, it was protective, cautious, and now, hopeful, glowing. She smiles at him and even looks giddy at the prospect of it all. "W-when can I visit? N'how do I get dere?"
"It is called Xavier's Institute, it isn't far from the city… I can give you directions." Hank said before he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, from in there he pulled out a folded piece of paper with directions and the school's letterhead. He handed it to her with a succint little nod, "I hope you come give us a visit, soon, tomorrow? If that works for you?"
Lynette accepts the paper and looks it over. She smiles and nods. "S'perfect." Looking up to him once more, she leans over and offers the nerdish looking man a hug. She doesn't allow it to linger for too long, and is quick to pull away. "Sorry…"
The hug does in fact take Hank off guard and he lets a soft, "Oh, of course." There is just time to give her a single pat before she pulled away. He grins with an awkwarding rounding little nod as he reached up to adjust his glasses again in the aftermath. "No matter. Happy to help." He told her and he restrained his grin to a sheepish cast as he turned back to look for his water glass again.