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A lovely frostbitten morning, a light layer of snow cast over the Brooklyn streets. Children play in their heavily bundled up jackets making snow angles, and having snowball fights. The cars slowly roll along down the street avoiding the occasional running child. It's a peaceful day, with a bright sun overhead only partially covered by fluffy white clouds. Sparkles glint off the freshly fallen inch of snow on the ground, as people make their way back home from a long day of work.
Things are calm here and everything feels somewhat peaceful, even as a giant of a man makes his way down the street. Hans towers over anyone around him. He's dressed in his usual thick black trench-coat and wide brimmed hat. Most of his face is hidden by shadows his right eye covered by a small eye-patch, little glints of red light peaking out from beneath it. He walks with his hands down in his pockets whistling a happy tune even as most people give him one heck of a surprised look while he passes. Yet his only return is a friendly wave of a gloved hand.
*
Lynette finds herself remembering how she use to be when on the 'run'; moving, constantly moving. She had spent enough time resting, and was finally well enough to beat her feet and get a move on. Her wanderings today bring her to another section fo the city that she rarely, if ever, visits. Thankfully, it's a mixture of cultures, so the odd glance wouldn't be too horrible here. Hopefully.
Dressed in a tan winter coat, stained a bit with faded brown-crimson patches, ratty jeans, and partially laced boots, the girl with flooftastic hair also has a heavy, pale blue scarf wrapped around her neck, hiding half of her face as she strides along. Her eyes keep themselves down, where as Hans glints of scarlet, her own are solid jade, and have fat slitted pupils like a snake's. She dodges children as they play, and is careful to glance up and down the sidewalk before crossing to another section of street. Today's goal, finding a cafe or diner that would allow her to purchase something hot to drink.
*
It's a calm walk for Hans so far, even as he starts to walk toward a small diner tucked away and forgotten in the mix of life here. He's just about to pass right by Lynette when a snowball slams into the side of his face, knocking the rather intimidating giant of a mans hat off and to the groung. A bald head is revealed underneath with glints of pitch black rough metal comprising a large section of his face, where his ear should be only a square metal hole.
There's a pause as he stands there in silence, looking down towards the ground, before he reaches to collect a small ball of snow, rolling it up into his gloved hands, his whistling given way to silence as he just collects the snow.
*
Lynette blinks, watching the large, dark skinned man greet the ground. The metal doesn't seem to bother her, then again, she wasn't exactly 'normal' herself. Heading his way, snow crunching and sloshing underfoot, she leans down next to him and reaches for his hat. Brushing the snow away from it, she offers it back out, even greeting him with a soft smile. The smile, however, is hidden by her scarf, but the rounding of her cheeks, and how they make her eyes squint up, would suggest its warmth. "Y'doin' ok, sugah?" Standing with him, she keeps holding his hat for him, even as he begins to make a ball for himself. Then, she's glancing around to see who was the tosser.
*
A group of kids stand seemingly petrified as they look over towards the giant. One of them just standing with empty arms looking down towards his hand as if he'd just killed someone not beaned them in the head with a snowball. The pure terror even as the giant comes back to a stand.
Hans throws the small ball of snow up into the air a few times, before tucking a dollar bill into the snow itself. He gives a wink with his good eye towards Lynette, before throwing a very light lob back in the kids direction. The boy who'd been so shocked flinches as it comes back barely managing to catch the ball in his gloved hands.
With the snowball thrown Hans turns back to her, speaking in a light British accent. "Nothing I'm not used to." He holds out his hand taking back hold of his black hat. "Boys will be boys." The smile wide and genuine but just that little bit too bright white to be natural. "Thanks, by the way. Names Hans." A single hand extended out.
*
"Don' gotta be use t'it, dough." The girl murmurs, watching the kids and at least giving them a pass. It didn't seem to be something hostile, more so than playful, after all. Looking back up to the man's face, the easily dwarfed girl offers a hand out as well, gripping to his gently. "M'Lynette. Nice t'meet y', Hans. Ain't neva seen a man like y', b'fore. Ain't heard a man like y' b'fore, neitha." One the shake is over, she draws her hand back and brushes off a few more flecks of snow off the man's collar and shoulder. "Y'new t'town? Y'ain't runnin' int' 'ny trouble, are y'?"
*
"Well it's a pleasure Lynette." Another smile from him as his booming voice echos out deep and joyus even as he cleans a bit of snow from the side of his face. He takes a quick moment following a light handshake to adjust that hat right into place. "Work in Hells Kitchen mostly, so I'm used to dealing with trouble when it comes my way." Face falling back to a more natural resting expression, but still a rather jolly one.
"A few kids making a mistake is nothing new." He assures before motioning over towards the dinner. "I know it's a bit forward, but I was about to head over there for something to eat, if you'd like to join me."
*
"I skip 'round de kitchen fr'm time t'time. S'gettin' hectic 'round dere." She warns maternally, before turning her head and eyeing the diner. "'d be delighted. I was headin' dat way m'self t'get s'mt'ing hot t'drink." Another grin behind blue fabric, she moves when he moves, heading toward the diner in question.
She pauses upon entering, the bell announcing their arrival. Her eyes flit about, making sure there are no signs saying 'WHITES ONLY' or if there were certain sections they needed to sit at. Thankfully, it looks to be free range, so the pair are allowed to take up space whereever they'd like. "What y'doin' in de kitchen, Hans?"
*
Hans leads the way calm and confident towards the small Diner. He has to duck down quite a bit in order to fit into the place under the door but once in he doesn't have much trouble finding a spot. The joys of being in a melting pot. "I work on cars mostly." He states, before offering to take Lynette's coat for her, the spot right by the window thankfully having some metal chairs he won't easily break. "I bought an old Texico service shop that went out of business."
*
Lynette shakes her head, keeping her jacket on and making sure the sleeves are down. Even so, under their cuffs, are hints of crimson, diamond like scales on her wrists, that probably lead up. After sitting, she at least hooks her fingeres on her scarf and lowers it to expose her face. "Dat sounds nice. I don' know n't'ing 'bout dat type 'f stuff." She beams, pausing in conversation as their orders are taken. Sweet enough, the waitress does stare at the pair with wide eyes; something about a black mane with metal plates and red eyes, and a black girl with snake eyes, gives one pause.
After walking away, Lynette returns her attention to her companion across the table. "Y'don' sound like a local, den 'gain, I ain't got room t'talk. Where'd y'call home, Hans? De name ah…sounds Austrian? German?"
*
Hans takes his own seat the chair creaking slightly as he sets down from his sheer weight but not breaking. He keeps his hat on even though he's indoors, still all around happy with the situation. "Nothing too strange. I just fix up cars for other people." He makes his own order, and the woman's eyes go even wider at the amount of food he's asking for. Even asking him if he's got the money to pay for that much food before a quick glance sends her heading back for the kitchen.
"Waldleiningen Germany" Hans confirms after the waitress has left with the twos orders. "Beautiful village, any time of year." A light pause as he sips away at the coffee poured for him. "How about yourself?"
*
Lynette tries to mouth out the name of the village, but after a moment, she gives up. Shaking her head, her curls swaying, and she's smiling again. Cradling her cup of joe, she drinks in its warmth through her skin, but does not drink just yet. "M'fr'm down south. L'osiana, jus' a skip outside 'f Baton Rogue." Looking at her cup, she considers the cream and sugar near by, but doesn't let go of its radiating warmth just yet.
Before long, another patron enters the diner. He's a gruff man, in his 30s or 40s, with a firm, worker's build, salt and pepper scruff, and the warm complexion of a svelt, Italian man. His hear turns left, then right, and once he spies Hans and Lynette's table, he's thunking his way closer to it.
"Hey, you!" He barks at Hans, finger out, its tip showing through the ratty ends of his gloves. "You the guy that hit my kid?"
*
"Well now, seems neither of us is local then." That light white smile coming back across his face. He takes another drink from his cup of coffee. "Should head down south some time to see Louisiana for myself." A light pause as the man walks in through that front door, but he keeps on the previous topic. "Spent a lot of time roaming Europe, but since I got here I've been pretty stationary." Barely more then a glance given. "I'm sorry, but you're interrupting our meal. If you want to have a talk about it, then you can wait." Still a very polite and friendly voice as he gives the slightest glance towards him.
*
Lynette shrugs her slender shoulders. "I wouldn' be rushin' down dere 'nytime soon, chere. Fair warnin'." Reaching over for the sugar, and cream, she starts dressing up her drink, quickly turning it from jet to soft tan. When someone comes to their table, she glares up at him, her brows furrowing as those snake like eyes peer into his own. She's about to say something, but Hans is already talking. Instead, the girl silences herself with her drink.
After he came closer, and has a moment to look at the pair, their looks do give him pause. His finger curls before turning rigid once more, allowing himself to fluster once more. "Nothing to talk about, jack. Not everyone has to accept you and your kind." He then digs into his pocket and tosses the cash back onto the table. "And we don't need your stinkin' handouts, either, negro." Puffing out his chest, he settles his flatcap and then turns to leave the building. He had said his piece, after all.
*
Hans stops. He stops mid drink, and sets down the mug. "Could you say that word again." A quiet pause waiting to see if he says it that next time. Then he comes to a stand, a full stand. "One more time," As he takes that single step closer head tilted down so his face is completely covered in shadows so the only thing visible is his smile, as he leans nice and close to the mans face. "I'm afraid my hearing isn't still back from when your son smacked that snowball into my head."
*
ROLL: Lynette +rolls 1d10 for a result of: 8
*
Said son watches from the window. He, and a few of his friends, pressing their fingers and faces against the glass, all staring in shock, and awe of the event. The boy in question, his father inside, looks worried, afraid, and of all other things, apologetic. It's safe to assume that this was not his idea, but more so the overreaction of a grown up.
When Hans stands, asking for the word to be repeated, Lyn can't help but to smirk and return to sipping her drink. There was no need for her to get hot blooded at this moment, the iron giant was overly qualified for this, after all. Another sip, she looks at the waitress as she sets down plate after plate, eyeing the pair of men with a worried expression. "Don' worry, chere. S''lright. T'anks f'de grub, dough. Looks nice."
Behind the kitchen window, a voice calls out, "You two lugs knock it off or take it outside!" He didn't care that they might fight, but wanted it not in his diner. Given the size of Hans, that request is very, very fair. The Italian man freezes in place. His arms by his sides, hands turning into fists. He looks up at Hans, and up, and up, and the massive German can see that he's shaking slightly. There's something that happens, though, that cancels out all good reasoning in the angry father's mind. He smirks and then glares up at Hans with a sick grin. "Oh, I'm sorry. Let me say it in a way you'll understand. /Nigger/."
*
He gets as far as Ni before a metal hand has grabbed around his throat, cutting off circulation. Hans lifts him like a ragdoll, up into the air. "Lynette, if you'll excuse me for a moment I need to have a few words with this fine gentleman about respect." He's so calm and collected as he pulls out a 50 dollar bill, and sets it on the counter, from a wad of cash in his pocket.
*
It's out of the shop, the chef is happy, along with the other patrons in the diner. The girl with floofy hair gives a wiggle of her fingers and calmly sips her coffee, she wasn't about to stop him. If anything, she'd be 'teaching' along side with him, if he'd let her. For now, she just wants to be warm.
The man gasps, drinking in a shallow breath as he's carried out like a toy, the bell clanking and clanging on the door after they exit. His fingers grip and holds around Han's forearm, as his legs give a kick and struggle against the hold, and soon enough, a small boy, the same that was gifted the cash, rushes up toward Hans, giving his jacket a soft pull.
"Wait! Don't! Please! Don't hurt my old man, mister."
*
And Hans returns that wiggle of the fingers with just a friendly nod of respect. He even tips his hat at a few people on his way out the door. There's care made to make sure that he doesn't smack the other gentlemans head across the door on the way out.
"I'm not about to hurt your vater." Offered with a caring smile, and a friendly voice as he kneels down slightly. "I just want to have a conversation with him, to make sure he understands there are some things you don't ever say in front of a woman." He pauses for a moment. "If people don't stand up when someone talks down to them, or threatens people they care about, then it keeps happening, but if you stand up to them, even once it sends a message that racism has no place in this country."
*
ROLL: Lynette +rolls 1d10 for a result of: 5
*
Wide-eyed, and fearful, the Italian man just nods his head, as best as he can, within Hans' grip. He nods again before sputting. "S-sure. Y-you got it, mack. Sorry, I-I was just angry, y'see? I got a temper." The boy hanging onto Han's jacket gives a soft, knowing, nod at his father's confession to his 'temper'.
"I'm sorry!" He promises once more, his fingers digging into Han's arm just so, even as his legs dangle and squirm. "T-tell y'girl I'm sorry, too. Pretty thing, with those weird eyes." Rage first, flatterly later.
*
"Now I ever hear you call anyone that again, or find out you do anything to your son." Hans reaches into the mans pocket, grabbing out a wallet. He takes a good look at the Identification, before placing it back into the wallet. "We're going to have a much longer conversation." He places the wallet back into the mans pocket, before gently moving to set him down.
*
"Yeah, yeah, sure! I get you!" More promises ripple out of the man's lips, and finally, he's on his feet. Once there, he rubs at his throat and jobs down the street. The boy is left standing, looking up at the massive figure that is Hans. "Thanks, mister." He smiles lightly, letting his jacket go. "I wasn't upset that you hit me, none. I was excited. It was fun. I just think my old man, well…Sorry about that." Tugging his cap down over his head, grinning with cherry cheeks, he offers Hans a wave before jogging back out to join his friends. "Did you see what he did to your old man!" They chatter.
*
Hans gives the kid a quick pat on the head. "It's alright, you run along now." One last smile given, and a tip of his hat to the other kids, before he makes his way back into the diner. He adjusts his gloves while making his way back over towards that same seat from before setting down inspite of if anyone tries to stop him. "Some people are too rude these days."
*
Lynette chuckles at his return and smirks, her head canting to the side. It seems they've finally recessed back to their natural state, and instead of solid jade, they're now white with onyx irises. "Yeah…don' go truckin' down south jus' yet I don' t'ink. Dey wouldn' know what hit'm, but den 'gain, no need t'go runnin' int' trouble." She advises and presses his plate closer to him. "I stole y'french toast. Sorry."
*
Across the street in the darkness of an alleyway a man stands behind a camera set up with view of the whole thing. Several flashes ring out as he takes high quality photographs. White teeth curl into an almost unnatural grin "Got you now you filthy kraut." As the photos slowly fall out the front into a waiting gloved hand. "Make a fortune off these."