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It's a sunny October morning, just after 10am, and the air is blessedly dry after the humid summer, though also quite cool. Anya Corazon is stepping off the bus outside the main entrance to NYU campus with a square book bag over one shoulder and a shoe box under her right arm. She's wearing her flare-bottomed jeans, a snap-up red plaid shirt with a wide color, and black boots. Her warm looking overcoat is trimmed with wool. None of her clothes look brand new.
Unfortunately she's jostled getting off the bus by a rude man with a red face shoving past her, and the box tumbles from her grip. The top lifts off in the breeze revealing a tightly packed row of computer punch cards. In her own moment, she knows her mutant reflexes could catch it before it spills, but she's also surrounded by people who would find this very off-putting. It would take webbing for her to catch it properly. She's fast, but she's not fast enough to do it with no one noticing. With a slow-motion sigh, she resigns herself to letting the box tumble to the ground, and the 45 minutes or so it'll take to reorganize them. At least she always numbers her cards.
*
In this day and age, in this country, showing off one's powers is rarely considered a good idea.
Not everyone got that memo.
Some of the spilled punch cards ripple in an unfelt breeze, then vanish without a trace. The cards are gone, the box is gone, the lid is gone—
"Hey. Think you dropped something."
The box is full, the cards are sorted, the lid is in place, all held in the awaiting palm of some weird looking guy with silvery hair, pale skin which almost appears to be grey, overly flashy clothing, and a cheeky/snarky grin as he leans against the side of the bus.
"You should be more careful. Sometimes things get a mind of their own. I'd suggest box tape. You some sorta techie? Don't much look like one. Computers are weird."
Pietro's sudden appearance didn't go completely unnoticed, one of the other passengers stopping mid-step to stare at the guy before turning and quickly walking away.
"Huh. Wonder what's wrong with him. Anyway, these aren't mine," he states while making sure the box is transferred to its (presumably) rightful owner.
*
Even being as fast as she is, Anya only caught the barest glimpse of what the silver-haired young man did for her. "I-" she starts, blinking. "Dios, what just happened?" Her fingers brush the silver cross at her collarbone briefly, more out of habit than any actual concern. She takes the shoe box back, still mildly stunned, but also smiling and grateful.
As the unnerved pedestrians move along, Anya smiles and lowers her voice. "Am I crazy? Or are you that fast?" She's seems genuinely curious rather than any flavor of judgemental. She also digs a light blue hair ribbon out of her book bag and uses it to secure the box lid a little better.
*
"You dropped this. I picked it up. Not that complicated, really," Pietro replies with a voice and expression both completely neutral of any hint of emotion. Except maybe sarcasm. "Things get away from me sometimes, too."
Then the grin returns, and one of the questions is dodged. "Crazy? Nah. Cute, sure, but no more crazy than anyone else in this city. I'm pretty fast, when I want to be. Still new to town. Where ya headed? Don't miss your bus," he 'helpfully' suggests with a quick incline of his chin toward the bus in question. The bus itself is given a look of apprehension, or perhaps disgust. "Is that really the quickest way to get around out here? That's rough. Speaking of crazy, that's where I would be if I had to rely on that breadbox on wheels."
*
"I doubt much escapes you," Anya says with a wry smile. She nods at the NYU entrance nearby and says, "I'm arriving actually, not going, so that's good at least. You're not wrong about these 'breadboxes' though." She reaches up in a gesture that probably used to tuck her hair behind her ear, but she has short hair now, so it doesn't apply anymore.
"Slow and smelly is the way to go. The subway is a little faster, but I don't like being underground if I don't have to." She shrugs, and the underground 'issue' seems more like a preference than a phobia.
Shifting the box to her other arm, she offers her right hand to Pietro. "I'm Anya. Thank you for catching that. You saved me an hour of work." She nods at the NYU entrance again. "Do you go here too?"
*
Funny, there are things which do escape Pietro. Such as that she's getting off the bus rather than getting -on- the bus. He has an excuse, though! He wasn't here at the time, he just passed by in time to see the box take a spill. Still, he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck in as nonchalant a manner as he can manage. "Subways can be kinda creepy. I prefer the open air, myself."
The offered hand is taken, shook. "Pietro. Peter, if you like. Welcome. Here? No. I only just got here last night. Are you hungry?" he suddenly changes thoughts, thumbing over to one side in some random direction. "They've got these hot dog vendors all over, they're not too bad. Something different on every corner, no wonder people like living here. Even if it is so grey."
Excited kids on Christmas morning don't have anything on this guy.
*
Anya nods agreeably at the notion of open air. "It's nice to meet you, Pietro." Anya's slight Spanish accent makes the name sound more Latino than Eastern European, but she seems genuinely grateful.
Glancing in the random direction he indicated, Anya in fact sees one of those hot dog carts. "Actually, I /am/ hungry. I was up most of last night finishing this mess," she says, hefting the box of cards. "So I skipped breakfast this morning to get here in time. Can I just drop this off inside first?"
*
It's an excellent opportunity for Pietro to test something out. And get food! "How about we do both?"
The cheeky grin returns as he makes a show of putting his hands behind his back. Then there's the briefest of flickers, so fast that even if someone were to stare at him the whole time they could easily miss the movement. The only real 'tell' he has is that his stance isn't exactly the same as it had been but an instant of time ago.
When he brings his hands back into the open he's got a cardboard basket in each, complete with hot dogs. "Magic dogs," he teases.
The test comes from Anya's earlier reaction, she didn't seem scared or intimidated so much as intrigued by the concept. Naturally, he has to play around with this some more.
"Need a hand? Lead the way."
If he knew where she was heading they could be done with this already. Patience, something which he's practicing -all the time.-
*
"Both-" Anya starts to ask, and then the flicker happens. She's amused when her eyes narrow, curious, ever the scientist. Over Pietro's shoulder she notes a vaguely confused hot dog vendor, steadying a tilting stack of cardboard baskets. Blinking, she realizes she actually /did/ see some of what happened, recalling after images like a fuzzy, stop motion animation.
Grinning, Anya shakes her head. "I'm ok with this if you carry those another minute. Magic dogs…" She mutters something under her breath and leads the way into the building she needs. The computer science wing is mostly a basement hallway at this point. The discipline is still fringe, and not always thought well of, but the man who greets Anya in the 'machine room' has an expression of grudging respect for her.
"Guten tag, Herb," she says cheerily. "Just in time for my 10:15 error check, right?" Herb is forced to agree, considered it's only 10 minutes after 10, and he accepts the shoe box with the pretty blue ribbon wrapped around it. He frowns at the ribbon as if it might bite him, until she reaches out and unties it for him. "Two hour" he grunts in a heavy German accent. "You come back for bugs." Anya nods and tucks her book bag into one of the cubbies available there.
Turning to Pietro as they step out, she takes a hot dog basket and directs them to the stairs, and the sunlight streaming down through the windows. "How about those benches out front?" She leads the way as if he's already agreed.
*
Success! Pietro has proven that Anya is not weirded out nor scared off by his speed. Though he also has no idea she managed to catch sight of him along the way. Throwing together two baskets did require him to hold still for a little while, there…
"Sure. They're not going anywhere," he teases.
The next few minutes are a study on the inner life workings of Anya. It would seem that she's working on fine-tuning some of the systems here, she speaks German, and at least one guy has come to respect her skill within the field. This skillset of hers alone suggests that she's no stranger to things which are out of the ordinary, though he waits until the techie exchange is over before inquiring further. Because now he's curious.
"Sure." Through great force of will he doesn't zip on over there and take a seat the instant the bench in question is pointed out, though he does glance at his watch along the way. Nervous habit, maybe.
Now the questions may begin. "You've seen some crazy stuff before, right? I bet you've seen some crazy stuff. You got a little something of your own, maybe? Know someone who has a talent? I hear there's a lot of that going around lately. Probably all over the city, huh. Weird tricks that don't show up on the resume."
*
Anya is so used to subsuming her secret identity that she flows easily along with the conversation, and if she notices his nervous habit, she doesn't say anything about it. "I live in New York, Pietro." Another wry grin. "I see 'crazy' every day, and twice on Sundays. You know I saw Spiderman right up close one time?" Sure, she's deflecting a little, but she also sounds genuinely excited to have seen the Bugle's Masked Menace herself.
She takes a bite of her hotdog and adds, "Also, it seems like we get more mutants in my kind of neighborhood. More than usual, I mean. I don't know why, but I think they might have a harder time finding work. You know? Like, the blue and purple ones. Or the ones that catch on fire sometimes? It's probably awkward."
She takes another bite and adds, "I knew a Sorcerer once too. Or at least, that's what he called himself." She shrugs. The idea doesn't seem to bother her one way or the other.
*
It's amazing what can be learned from another person, especially if you happen to pick just the right kind of person to talk to. Though for everything that Anya has to share about powered individuals within the city, the part which Pietro seems to be struggling with the most..is eating his snack at a normal human's pace. "Spider-Man, the guy that keeps showing up in the news all the time. Real menace, that one," he says with a disarming grin. Totally joking about that.
The part about mutants gathers some particular interest. "Every color of the rainbow. They're usually just misunderstood. I can see why that might happen, though. What neighborhood is this? Are they banding together over here?"
The intrigue only continues to grow when she mentions a sorcerer. In an uncharacteristic shift of habit, he says just one word but draws it way out: "Reeeeeeeaaalllllyyy…"
*
"Yeah, total menace," Anya says, trying not to laugh while she eats. "He /completely/ ruined this perfectly good bank robbery. I saw it from across the street. He wouldn't even let the bandidos get away. Very rude." She suppresses her grin enough to keep eating, somehow remaining fairly dainty about it.
"Yeah, people of different colors have been put in different neighborhoods for a long time, you know?" She shrugs, letting all the bigger meanings go unsaid for now. When he seems interested in her 'sorcerer' friend, she grins mischievously. "I know, right? He's probably crazy, but /he/ could make hotdogs appear out of nowhere too-"
Anya's train of thought is derailed by a string of German that has to be curse words, even if you don't speak German. Turning on the bench, she sees Herb. He doesn't look injured, but his shirt sleeve is shredded and he's covered in blackened dust and chipped paper. "Oh good," he says. "Corazon," he pronounces it 'core-zone'. "Machine malfunction. I am sorry." He holds up the remnants of her shoe box.
Sighing, Anya looks stricken, but not crushed. "I'm sorry Pietro, but that assignment is due tomorrow. I have to re-do it now." She gets up and offers to shake his hand again before following Herb in to look for any recoverable punch cards. Turning back she calls, "Hope to see you again!"