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Central Park is a bit of a mess right now. Police had put up caution tape all around it and are watching vigilantly to make sure that.. whatever the heck is happening in there.. stays there. They aren't really prepared for this sort of thing though.. so when masked heros and heroines show up they're more than happy to accept help. This also means that midtown isn't as bustling as it usually is. Normally, catching a late brunch at a cafe would mean waiting in line or calling ahead. This means that a reporter by the name of Clark Kent was able to find an open table on the street side where he can watch the police line with a passive sort of interest that delays his ordering. In one hand is the menu. The other is absently scribbling notes onto a pad of paper. The cough of the waitress is what snaps him out of it. "Hmm? Oh! Terribly sorry. I'll have a club sandwich and an iced tea. Thank you."
*
Wandering. It was taking longer than normal for Diana to gain her bearings. Perhaps it was a blessing, the fact that people run along as costumed and something other than the norm which allows her to pass by the crowds of those unnoticed. It could be the fact that she was a taller sort of woman. Or the fact that she moved through the crowds with grace with the ease of a ghost, floating, near effortless, cloak upon her head.
Though she was not like the rest, she truly was. There was a certain hunger that burned within her belly. Not the need for a fight. Not the need for companionship and it certainly wasn't the need for a talk.
It.. was just the need to eat. She was hungry, you see. And almost every meal that she partook in.. did not compare to the horrors that she's seen this day. So it was a wonder as she hears the melodic and polite ordering of Clark, she wanders over, both gloved fingers pressed in front of herself and a gentle smile that crosses her lips. She was kind, and she was honest.. and right now? She was desperate.
"Pardon me.." She says quietly. "..I'm afraid I cannot read this worlds language as of yet. May.. you request …" She gestures to the departing waittress. "Uhm.." How in the world can she say this?
*
Clark looks to his left. So does the waitress. Both are slack jawed for a moment but it's Clark that comes to quicker. He stands up. "Ma'am." He offers politely as he looks Diana over with a fairly puzzled expression on his face. He snaps his fingers a little then reaches into a pocket. He pulls out a little flip book that has some letters on it and turns pages. Reading by his finger, he states in broken Greek, "Hello. My name is Clark Kent." Yep, he has his traveller's guide to Europe pocket tourist edition. He looks up from the page hopefully.
*
Diana's brows furrow ever so slightly as they look to her confused. There was a little niggling to take a step back, her her hands slowly unlacing from the other as she makes preparations to cause a little hell if need be. Though, as they speak to her, her face scrunches into something that was amused. Her head shakes, and her eyes lift to the sky to change her manner of thinking into.. well, english. At least she's learned that rather well! Not well, but.. you know? Good enough.
"Hello." She says, perked up. "I.. am. Di-yah-nah." Diana. She points at herself. "Di-yah-nah."
*
The waitress just keeps staring. Clark? He looks up from the guide book. "Oh! You speak English!" Mostly? "Well. Hello then Diana. Like the Roman goddess." He extends a hand to her. "You were starting to say something.. about a request? How can I help you?" He speaks quickly. Maybe too quickly. He's enthusiastic that's for sure. Quite eager to help.
*
"Mmhmm." She nods her head completely as she tugs her cloak back around her again, keeping her gloved hands hidden from view. She didn't need to gesture, but she does take a moment to think about her words, immediately murmuring there after. "Yes. Like.. her." Close, maybe close enough.
With a light nod towards the chair, she purses her lips as she makes the gesture as if she were eating. "Food." She states. "No animal." He was nice, right? She had money! That thought alone had her shifting just a touch, grasping along her middle to retrieve a pouch to lay coins upon the table. They were greek in essence, chiseled, carved from the metal, dented and broken from years and decades of wear and tear.
*
The waitress. Just doesn't know what to make of this. She just keeps staring. Slack jawed. The toss of the coins onto the table draw a look but.. no comprehension. They're.. coins..ish? It's Clark that gets it. Faster than he might otherwise have. He looks to the waitress. "Miss, she'll be joining me. A garden salad for her please. And.. put the italian dressing on the side? And.. water.." He offers the last about the drink with a glance to Diana as if trying to decide if tea is a thing.. or not. He gives the waitress an encouraging gesture for movement then backs up, kicking his own chair over in the process. He frowns down at it but moves around to pull out a chair for Diana. "They.. ahh.. don't take coins.. here." He offers awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I will pay." He picks up a single coin, not even sure of the denomination, and shows it to her before pocketing it and then fishing out his wallet. He takes out a ten dollar bill.. then puts it back and takes out a twenty. "Here. This is.. ahh.. money.. for this land."
*
As the chair was pulled out, Diana gives a little bow of her head, leaving Clark to deal with the woman servant as she settles in as prim as she pleases. With a quick adjustment, she clears her throat then, one elbow, bare as it was, leaning upon the table, the golden vambrace in clear view as her opposite hand pulls and tugs down her cowl.
"Efcharist.." She murmurs. "Thank you." She sniffs faintly, then looks around at the area, finally settling into the chair with a lean backwards. "I.." And then he offers a twenty. She carefully reaches out to take it, studying it with a lift, a snap, and a sniff. "Papyrus? Paper? Why?"
*
Clark waits for her to be properly seated, pushing in her chair like a gentleman ought, then returns to.. pick up his own chair. He picks up his coat, brushing it off, then drapes it back over his chair again then sits. "That.." He seems stumped a moment on that one. "Weight? It is easier to carry more paper money then coin." He nods at that. "And.." He seems to have a thought and takes up a newspaper from his table. He flips pages until he reaches the business section, hunting for something. Ahah. Tapping the page, he quickly folds it up. Then he goes and fishes for the coin he just tucked away, placing it in the palm of his hand. The look of study on his face seems to suggest he's weighing it. Then he takes it up and bites it. "I'd be careful with those." He gestures to the rest of the coins on the table. The coin is tucked away again and the wallet taken out once again. His forehead knits a little then he shrugs and pulls out another twenty, slipping it across the table to her. "I.. know you said you don't read but.. the current gold exchange is around thirty five dollars per ounce." He taps the newspaper. "Each of your coins is.. about an ounce? Maybe more? I don't have a scale." There's a gesture for her to take the bills. "I.. well.. the symbol.. two.. and zero.." He draws them with his finger on the table. "Together mean twenty."
*
"Oh." She holds out the twenty again, carefully folding it in half by the length of it, which was soon tucked into the pouch that hangs upon her hips. "Light." She states with a little smile, then looks up with interest as he begins to inspect the coin. Even as he bites it, there was a slight wince to her face, her head tipping to check and make sure that there were no teeth broken from such a display.
Once satisfied, she calms a little, another twenty slipped her way which was taken up, examined, folded meticulously and placed within her pouch. "Twenty. Two. Zero." She repeats, then slowly pushes the coins in his direction. Obviously, there were more than where that came from.
"Will take a while to.. know?" She asks for clarification. She almost felt like a brute attempting to fit in, even as her eyes curiously scan her surroundings. The manner of dress. The way the women move as if comfortable in their skin even though they were servants. How the men happily laugh and make friends with one another, and puff on paper with smoke.
It was then, she leans forward, wriggling briefly within her chair as she presses her hand against her chest. "Friend from Themyscira. Rep. Re. Sent. Would like to speak.." She gestures with her hands. "..to leader. For.." She looks up towards the sky, then down again. "..friendship." And a place to stay. And to ask why women are subjugated. And to possibly wage war if the answer she gets she does not like. And to help. Generally.
"To help. You take them to me. Yes?"
*
Clark's eyes go wide when she pushes the coins his way. "Umm." He pushes the coins back. "I wish I had enough to exchange them all.. but you should go to a bank. Or.. maybe an antique dealer or.." Flummoxed, he shakes his head a little.. then she is looking around at people and that gives him time to recoup. The waitress comes out with a tray and sets her salad before Diana and Clark's sandwich… drinks.. and a stare. "Thank you, miss." Clark snaps her from the stare and the waitress slowly.. very slowly.. walks back into the restaurant. If this weren't New York City and they saw heroes on a regular basis, Diana would probably have drawn a crowd. Considering there's a zombie apocalypse across the street.. well.. no crowds today.
"Leader. Hmm." Clark considers that question. "Well. That.. is a tough call. There's the leaders of this country which are some distance away. Then there is the United Nations.. which.." He cranes his neck south. "Is about fifteen blocks south of us? That might be your better choice." He scratches his chin. "You.. probably want a taxi." A beat. "A ahh chariot.. er.. without horses."
*
Diana shakes her head, the coins pushed a little further into his direction. "Keep." Still, she had more. More of which was forgotten about as the salad was set in front of her, her fingers picking and playing with the leaves before she picks up a sliver of lettuce to pop right into her mouth. She doesn't mind the waittress' stares, but she does mind how fresh the lettuce itself was, and it was almost as if they pulled it from the ground and washed it right then and there to place upon the plate.
"Mm. Heard that. No one to rep." She states about the UN, her eyes soon gone to Central Park as she draws in a slight inhale of her breath. There was a little twitch that happened underneath her eye. A need to just -go- there was evident. But.. was it wise to act on foreign soil, just as Loki had done before? Asgardians be damned, they were so..
"What is a chariot without its horse?" She asks, curious. "Tis but a box. Yes?"
*
Clark ahhs delicately. "They call it a car.. automobile." He points to one driving by. "The yellow ones are taxis. They are service vehicles. Take people from place to place for pay." He watches her watching the police line. "That.. is a.. dimensional incursion.. I think they called it. It's beyond me to be honest. But they seem to have it contained." He scratches his chin a moment. "You know.. they could probably use a hand. If.. well.." he gestures to her, nearly knocking over his tea but not noticing. "You're a warrior. You look like a warrior."
*
"Mm. Thought it was a beast." Not that Diana trashed a car when she saw it, it looked rather harmless, but it was a noisy contraption. But she settles on her food, picking up the fork to dig in, leaving the dressing to the side as she watches Clark, and then towards the 'dimensional incursion' that he speaks of. She -could- help, but there was a bit of a worry there. Would it be too much? Would they allow her to act on their soils?
The fork was dropped abruptly, the glass of water taken and sipped, her head shaking ever so slightly, then.. a shrug of her shoulders. "Yes." She finally states. "Warrior. But too dangerous." Not for her, but for everyone else, quite possibly. "Must be clear." She gestures at him, then at the rest of the people near, which wasn't much at all. "Must be safe for you. Far away."
*
Clark ahhs. "Of course." Because clearly, he has no idea what she means. The blank look behind the glasses says it all. Then. It hits him. "Oh! Right. Yes. Well, thank you for the consideration." He coughs then looks down at the coins on the table which were summarily pushed back to him. "Here. Let me give you my card." He takes out a business card and slides it across the table. "There are numbers on it. My name. If you ahh.. get into trouble.. ask for a phone call. Dial this number. Or.. have someone dial it. A.." He pauses again, brow knitting. "A phone is like.. a messenger bird? Only.. faster. The number tells the phone who to contact." He reaches out for the card and flips it over, scribbling on the back with pencil. "That's my home number. Really. Call if you need help. You.. just arrived? I could get you a hotel. Umm. A room. At an inn."
*