1963-12-06 - Making the Shot
Summary: Fast friendships made over independent women taking independent paths!
Related: N/A
Theme Song: None
thea rogue kate 

Central Park in the morning hours. 'Rush hour', as it were, though it won't see a high population of people doing their early morning runs for at least anouther 20 or so years when the fitness craze actually takes hold. Still, that doesn't stop a stalwart few who are far in front of fad. It's cloudy, overcast, but that's the perfect time to go! When all you want to do is curl up under a blanket, pulling it over top of your head and wish the world away.

Kate Bishop, born Katherine Bishop, is that poor slob that manages to drag her tail out of bed, into a set of purple running clothes and sneakers, and has taken to the trails. Each step she takes, her feet pound the dirt; quarter mile sprint, half-mile endurance, and at the 'end', where trees meet clearing, a final sprint. If close, she can probably be heard talking to herself,

"And the crowd goes wild as Number 93 sprints over the finish line with a whopping.."


That 'whopping finish' actually brings her to a stop, and she's leaning over to try and grab more air for her lungs.


Thea is not one for fads, and certainly not running around in the park sort of things. No, the nursing student is coming home from a late shift of practical at the hopsital. Blonde hair has been let down from it's captivity in a bun, making it spiral over the shoulders of her peacoat. Black heels, nice legs, and a sliver of white shirt are all that's visible from under the bottom half of that peacoat. She's faintly humming to herself as she makes her way home, pausing to peer at the woman panting just out of the woods. It's longer than a glance, trying to discern if all is well or if someone actually needs help.


Rush hour in Central Park could go completely unnoticed except from the air, the sort of congestion it receives notable only in the vicinity of the museums and art galleries on its fringes. School buses laden with children won't come out this close to Christmas, and the habitual dog walkers or ne'er-do-wells know to look elsewhere than deal with the morning commute on a short cut. Or most of them will. It's proximity to this green quadrant, denuded by recent events like a Hellmouth spawned before Halloween and now by the weather, which pulls in a redhead. Her amble isn't aimless, though she carries a book bag marked by the blazon for Columbia University. A fair bet then she's jumping from one subway line to the other en route to final exams, something that no doubt will slow her step rather than hasten it.

The girl stands out for a fair number of reasons: elaborately braided red hair, dressed in over-the-knee leather boots and a brilliant black and white checked minidress, all three style elements still incredibly rare on these shores. The mod English look has yet to really land on American shores. The camera? That's definitely something familiar.

For the low light conditions that come with gentle morning beckon the photographer to practice her rusty art rather than worry about studying anymore. It's that chatter that probably attracts her attention, maybe the slap of soles on the ground. She turns, the open glass lens peering towards Kate. It swings around and she lines up the shot with a gracious sort of ease, triggering the oculus to give a mechanical blink and capture motion on film.



One, two, and Kate pulls herself upright again, hand on her side to keep the stitches from appearing, as if she could. 'Walk it off', she's heard in her head a hundred times. A thousand. One step, two.. and Thea is caught looking at her. A wave and a smile is given to dismiss but not dismissively. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just.."


A camera? Kate groans softly. "Oh god, tell me that's not going to end up in a newspaper somewhere," she begins, her tones virtually pleading. "I am so not ready-"


Thea smiles faintly, and oddly enough, those oncoming stitches.. never really appear. Instead there's a slight warmth and tingle before Kate may find it easier to breathe deep. "Sorry, second nature. Just got off my shift at a hospital." There's even a faint blush. "I was worried for a moment you might be being chased." There's a glance at the camera wielding redhead.


A camera: one of no particular significance that would mark Scarlett as either a tourist or a photojournalist, though the way she wields it and uses her body as a tripod shows a practical experience. The adjustment on the lens tilts up over the jogger's head, a staggered line of pointed conifers dully echoing the angles on a visible church steeple and several blocky, high buildings behind it. She takes three of that particular skyline before dropping the device from eye-level, and then holds up a hand in something of a wave. "Sorry about that. The view was just too good to pass up." The view that goes nowhere? One might be forgiven for drawing that conclusion, though the particular swirl of the grey clouds has an appealing pattern of illumination from behind as day stretches into a deeper reign.

"Only for me, I promise. I doubt any magazine would want my shots unless run by moles," Scarlett adds. The golden tone of her English accent marks her from overseas or, possibly, somewhere around Savannah where they remember their colonial settlers in the refined vowels. Either way, she shakes her head, giving a soft laugh. "You're quite safe, I promise. Good morning to both of you." Thea hasn't been forgotten though the bohemian dreamer might be considering her surroundings for further inspiration in case it decides to crash through, like a demonic moose.


Oooo.. warmth on a chill morning. Kate is feeling… huh. Pretty good, actually. A smile appears on her face and it grows bigger as she looks back at Thea. "Was that.. no. It's fine. Really. Hospital, huh?" She puts a suddenly surprisingly un-leaden foot forward to approach Thea. "Nursing? Taking on 'the Man' and becoming a doctor?" 'Cause that would be great!

She starts a moment before she offers up, "Kate Bishop. Jogger not so extraordinaire. But at least I have my old paths back.. after all that stupid stuff." Hellmouth, etc. Apparently she wasn't one of the stupid ones that came out anyway to wander dangerous woods!

She looks back at Scarlett, and has the courtesy to look a little embarrassed. To those 'in the know', they might recognize 'Bishop' as a major publishing magnate in the city. A 'name', as it were. "Thanks.. and I'm sorry. I'm just sorta used to getting caught a little off-guard, and running?" Kate smiles lopsidedly, "Not something ladies do." But! They do if they want to stay fit!


Thea laughs, shaking her head and loosening those blond spirals. "No, just a nurse. Maybe if I feel ambitious I can try for doctor later. But let us be honest, nurses do most of the healing." At least in her case. Thea also has no need to work out, thank heavens.

In contrast to the redhead's accent, Thea's is upper class, polished and without any real indicators of her origin.. other than educated. "Yes, there was quite the amount of stupid stuff. I'd be happy to /not/ be here next time.And acting like a lady can be overrated." There's a tug of a smile, as she looks oer at the redhead again. "Morning. Thea Harman."


The name might bring a familiar glint to Scarlett's eye, but doesn't markedly change her bearing or cause a sycophantic coo of excitement. Instead, her smile remains sunny and mercurial, for all she leans forward a little on her toes. "Sorry if I caught you off-guard. It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable. Believe me, I understand." The lithe build visible beneath the mod dress suggests an athlete, without question; people don't gain that kind of lithe muscle tone by sitting around and eating like a magpie.

"Kate? Scarlett." She tucks the camera back into her pocket, shifting out of happenstance amateur photography to conversation, which works out well enough. A wave is sent after Thea, as the healer hurries upon her way. Poor girl just can't catch a break. "The 'stupid' stuff was indeed a bother, but now it seems we can look up instead of in the trees for trouble. Good on you for taking advantage of the morning and not being gripped by hysteria."


"Yeah, but none of the credit. If you become a doc, you'll work and you'll get the credit. Who wants to work thankless jobs." Like, really. "Nice to meet you, though, Thea. I'll.." Poor thing. It is 'late', or 'early'.. and hospital shifts do catch up to a person, so it really is 'no harm, no foul' when apologies are made. "See you later," is given at her back.

Kate turns back around and offers Scarlett that same slightly embarrassed smile. "A pleasure. And thanks for understanding. People can just be really stupid." But it obviously doesn't get her down. Not long, anyway. The eternal optimist! She bends to the side, testing that she really isn't suffering from 'stitches' and exhales happily. "That is a really serious camera, though. You do a lot of photography? You look like you'd have a good eye. Put it in a gallery and," she snaps her fingers, "People will come."


No embarrassment dents Scarlett's bearing, but then it takes a fair bit of gravity to scrape the surface of her determined good mood. "Indeed, they can. You deserve your privacy. Had you been concerned, I could have cut the film and excised the one frame that caused you discomfort." Eternal optimist, meet the bohemian. Moving in slightly closer to allow others pass, now they only occupy one half of the path, she inclines her head. "Would you like to walk? I wouldn't want you to seize up because you were not cooling down from a run."

She tosses an elaborate, thin braid back over her slim shoulder. The thin plait yokes to another, combining into tangled draconic coils traced between her shoulder blades. "Ah, I do tend to photograph a fair bit. Nothing remarkable, whatever takes my fancy. The life of an artist, though rewarding, is not one which I can afford. Far too hand to mouth for me, I fear, though not many in Greenwich seem to know it."


"Yeah.. that's when you go and find a patron. Nothing wrong with that. City is filled with people who want to hand their money out. Right now, though, they just want to be sure that it's doing 'some good'." Philanthropy and altruism is at an all-time high. It's just coupled with 'not in my back yard' is all.

Kate shakes her head and waves, ready to walk. "Nah.. it's okay. Really." Trusting soul!

"Photography isn't something I ever got interested in. It was always too quiet? Yeah.. quiet. I wanted to be out and doing things. Communing and being quiet just wasn't my thing. Still isn't, really."


"Perhaps. Though the one I have is already distant enough, I do not think I could tolerate having another presence in my life that stands out there beyond the orbit of Jupiter for all the good it does me." Philanthropy means little without a spirit behind it, apparently. Scarlett shrugs her shoulders, all good humour. "A good idea, though. Between my coursework and everything else, I'm not sure how I would ever manage a gallery show. What is it that you do?"

Communing and being quiet brings a sharper, vivid smile painted against the backdrop of her fair face, and then she slants a look after a dog chasing fluff, young man chasing it.


"Oh.. I'm sorry," and Kate does actually sound apologetic. Empathetic. No one needs sympathy. As the mood shifts and changes quickly, so does her own, and she easily walks on. "Oh, it's a whole business. Gallery owners. Managers. Ultimately, all the artist does is drop off the works in the back and they do the rest. PR. Scheduling. It's not too bad, really. I think there's a gallery opening coming up next week some time. People like to do it around the holidays. More chances for their work to be purchased as gifts."

Kate shoves her hands into the pockets of her sweats as they do walk, and she looks beside herself before looking straight ahead. "Want the official line, official opinion, or what I'm actually doing?" She chuckles ruefully and pulls her hands out to 'count' on her fingers, one hand pointing to the other. "Official line, serving as the philanthropist in charge of a budgetary line item from my father. Official opinion, wasting my time. Unofficial? I'm trying to get myself to a point where I think I can actually do some good. Sometimes it's not just about tossing money around, you know? Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty. Have to get into a couple of scrapes and come out on the other side. Only.. it's not as easy as all that. Sometimes, you just need a break. And someone to look up to."


The stride that Scarlett adopts is loose and easy, not quite ground eating and not by any means slow. She modulates it to Kate's own, preferring not to wander ahead or lag behind when she can manage a comfortable pace instead. Her hand steals into her coat pocket along with the camera, there largely to prevent the device from falling onto the ground and shattering, or otherwise meeting an ignominious end. Keeping her gloved hands warm is a much less concerning venue. Nodding to the explanation, she adds, "Very much a remote endeavour, art. Most think it seems to be labouring away in a studio for a discerning buyer, and then delivering the masterpiece they all declare will change the world. It's quite a bit different, even on the surface. The buyers and the network of shop owners, appraisers, and auctioneers all seem to hold their particular place, too."

The explanation of her actual job warrants a laugh. "It could be worse. You could be a Rockefeller and just trotted out every holiday season to show how happy the family is, captains of industry and all that, instead of participating in wild parties and squandering the hard work of their grandfather or such. I know a few of them in the university are working on law degrees and miserable, hoping they can get to Jamaica or the Caymans for the winter." Such a hardship for those lucky few with silver spoons crammed down their esophagi, no? She doesn't sound remotely jealous. "What would you do, had you the opportunity to pick anything? What are you not pursuing that seems to call to you?"


"Instead, every time there's a mention of my name in the paper, it sits on my Father's desk in the corner." Kate gestures in the air, 'shoving' some invisible item up and to the right. "Monthly family meetings, I sit at the table in dread. But, if you ask him? I'm just like those others. Partying away and not doing anything with my time that is worth my time."

Kate's stride is easy; she's a confident young woman, to a point. "As for me, I actually… this might sound really, really stupid, but.. have you seen in the city somewhere, a guy with a bow and arrow?" She pauses in her step, and she looks that cross between hopeful and apologetic. "I've been working out, and it.." A hand is waved in the air, dismissing her words. "Nah.. never mind. It's dumb." She is quiet as she finds her thoughts again, ready to walk. "I guess keep doing what I'm doing. I need to hit the bagel shop, drop of a few dozen at the shelters Midtown. Then, off to the gym. The range. Maybe find my way to a Christmas party."

Kate looks down and the side, ducking her head as she looks to her companion. "What do you do? Normall.. I mean, you mention university. And photography, I guess?"


"A guy with a bow and arrow? There's a number of guys with a bow and arrow, I'm afraid, though most of the archers I know either work for the military or pursue it at the university level for a pastime that gives them an athletic credit. Easy when one has been practicing since they were seven, no? You might be able to ask around the quad at Columbia or NYU. Empire State has no program of the sort. There was some talk about turmoil around the Ed Sullivan show, but I'm afraid my ability to direct you there immediately is somewhat limited." Scarlett presses her lips together slightly and she stares off into the distance, consulting memories of her own and a good m any borrowed ones, assuredly, though the ghosting shade of her green eyes allows little of that. "Unfortunately you might need to specify more than 'guy' and something like male Caucasian with close-cropped blonde hair, somewhere between twenty-five and thirty, spoke with a Queens accent and can't button up a shirt to save his life. Therefore he only wears sweatpants and t-shirts, except when he's shooting things properly. Then he wears a pink vest." The facts rattled off by the bohemian warrant a brilliant grin, full of mischief rather than reproach.

Doubtful she takes much in life seriously, though the aim to help certainly lies there. "I generally cause trouble. Though I go to Columbia, act as an interpreter for New York culture — more on an academic level, not strictly a tour guide — and take photographs. Practice yoga, meditate, enjoy the Greenwich scene on all its levels. You could call me the worst of the long-haired activist party people."


Kate laughs and lowers her voice. "Okay. I can get specific. Hot. Hot arrow guy." There. A grin creases her face and the laugh remains in her tones, mirroring the mischief and humor in the other woman. "You forced my hand. Though now, I'd love to know who you were describing." Brown eyes gleam with the amusement; she's kidding. Mostly. Huffing and posturing. Not that she'd do anything, really. There's a hint of disconnect there.

"Columbia, huh?" Now, she's got her attention focussed forward again, the smile and humor lingering. "So, in other words, you are a lady who knows her own mind and wants to do what she wants."


"Hot arrow guy. You can do better than that. Define hot." Scarlett wiggles her fingers in Kate's direction, playfully done. "You might like short and stocky, or tall and slim. Perhaps your tastes are more towards German men, or you find the idea of a grain fed Kentucky boy beyond desirable. How dare I impose my tastes upon you? Though the fellow I'm describing is a pre Law candidate with a penchant for moonlighting with a guitar down at Club Wha? It's worth hearing him. God, that man can sing."

Yes, these are things she notices, laughter fluttering there in her throat. "It's quite true, yes. I don't settle for a husband and sitting around trying to raise the children. I want a degree, a chance to make a change, a positive impact on the world. Oh, there's so much to see and learn."


"More like 'knight in shining armor' hot. Like, 'I didn't catch the license plate of that bus that hit me' hot." Kate is enjoying this probably as much as Scarlett is, if her manner and mien have anything to say about it. Laughter is in her tones, along with that 'girl confidential' timbre. "I didn't stop and ask him where he's from, but I have a feeling it's been awhile since he'd been home."

Now, though, her interest is piqued. "Okay.. a hot arrow guy who moonlights in Club Wha? What nights." Notice that's not a question but more a statement. "And, because we all travel in packs, I'll have to find a few friends." Girls have wingmen too! Kate is so ready!

Though now, Kate's moved on, but not far. "Yes. Yes. Yes. But.. that degree thing is going to have to wait for me, but preach it, sister." Ultimately, that's everything she wants. To make a difference. And she's smart enough to know that she can't help anyone if she ignores herself.


"Blonde fellow, hair to here," indicating shoulders, "flowing mustaches?" Scarlett is a romantic, she follows a bohemian. "I know the sort you're talking about. Absolutely devastating, noble, and so very much engaged to another girl. It could kill me every time, someone as fine and noble a soul as that, but his heart is better suited to the lady he loves." She does not sigh so much as smile piquant and sweet on that notion. "At least we are friends, and that gives me great hope and a ruinous standard that every girl I meet receives such esteem from her would be partner. Though I will keep an eye out in case I find him. Then you can play cat and mouse."

Scarlett's gesture takes in the street in question. "Come down to the Wha? You can ask for me — Scarlett, that is — and they will be happy to point you in my direction. I spend enough time in the area, I'm not so hard to find. And I do think that we need to continue this conversation, albeit not when I'm having a study meeting for an exam in an hour. Pop by for coffee, they can get in touch with me. Drinks on me!"

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