1964-04-22 - Feeling Like Greek
Summary: Kai meets Lambert and suckers him out of a meal.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
kai lambert strange 


It's Greenwich Village, in what's left of a park the day after yesterday's Mutant Rights protest, which turned into a fiasco when the crowd turned on the podium and Magneto got mad. The grass is drowned, no doubt from the water that came from the remnants of hydrants that look like they were just ripped apart. Destroyed signs litter the ground. The area around the stage is probably still cordoned off. In amidst the deluge, a young blond man in black chinos, a beret, and a fetching white kerchief round his neck stands near a fountain and takes it all in. In his hands, he holds what's left of a torn sign that looks like it once read: WE ARE ONE.

*

Lambert did not get his early delivery this morning of the best of the city markets and when you do Greek food - which involves fish - that is a tragedy. So he packed up the diner early and went out for a walk. Oh, Magneto got mad - well, is anyone surprised, really? That guy gets mad over everything! Lambert shoves his hands into his varsity jacket pockets and comes out to check out all of the doom and gloom. No one else around, eh? Oh, wait. Well, he's an amiable fellow - he heads towards Kai.

*

Kai looks at the ground with a sad, wistful expression, but as Lambert approaches, he looks up and his smile is warm and reflexive. Guarded, though. That letterman's jacket. It could be nature's way of warning art kids away from the jocks. "Hey, what's up, man? Were you at the protest yesterday?"

*

Lambert does kind of look a bit like a jock, with the whole school jacket thing - it has an unrecognsiable letter combination, so probably no one near New York City. But his eyes are kind. Even if the pupils are horizontal. Plus, he has a sort of contentedly rolly polly look to him - most jocks with this physique are ashamed of it. Lambert radiates contentment in himself. "Uh, no…it was right during rush hour for my Chaniotiko Boureki. I don't work, my staff don't get paid either, right?" The accent is mostly American, and farm-boy American at that. He offers a hand across "Lambert!"

*

Kai's eyes narrow. He understands the word 'work' in all that, and he sniffs a little. He might have an allergy to the stuff. He wipes mulchy paper off on his jeans, then shakes Lambert's hand. There's a bit of power in his grip, though he's careful to rein it in. "Kai," he says. His accent is English. "So, like, you didn't come because you had to work?" He sigh. "I thought I'd never say this about work, but for the best. It got ugly."

*

Lambert has a certain amount of strength as well - but nothing inhuman. Simply, perhaps, at 'human athlete' level. Then he says "Hi Kai." That sounds weird. "Yeah. I run a diner - it's not too far away. I did close up all the doors when I saw folk going past." He wrinkles his nose "An' all the early fishmarkets this morning were closed, so I can't run dinner. Anyway." That is the funny thing about everything like powers and protests. People like Lambert lose out on a few days wages and have to work out how to pay rent. "Oh, no, I _love_ my work - I'm a chef. I love cooking, brewing - all that good stuff. It did? What happened?"

*

"You're the boss man?" Kai asks, and he laughs. "Wait, which place is it?" He glances aside, as though consulting his memory. Then he looks back, all innocence. "I wonder if I've eaten there. I'm around here all the time." He waves a hand and says, "Anyway, people got angry and lunged the stage, tried to drag down some bloke names Erik-something who then calls himself Magneto, and he rises up in the air and there's metal all over. I came looking for my belt. I had to take it off. It was pulling me around more than usual."

*

"'Saganaki'," says Lambert, naming a rather small place. Only a few tables. Lots of candles. The occassional bar fight finished by the chef coming out and throwing someone physically out the door "Maybe! I don't know, I'm often in the back, eh?" he slaps Kai on the back "Oh, yes, I can imagine it all went wrong." He wrinkles his nose, thinking about it, and his oddly pupiled eyes blink "I mean, that kind of thing always does. Wait, tell me they're not all charging around trying to 'get' mutants, right?"

*

That doesn't sound like one Kai's dined and dashed from. One he was planning too, maybe. "I've been meaning to try that place," he says. Slapping Kai on the back should at least give him a little stumble, right? He's not a big guy. Butit's like patting a slab of beef, and he just smiles amiably, steady on his feet. But then the smile fades, and he says, "It's a bad scene, man. You got cats on the right saying 'you guys are bad' and cats on the right going 'if that's what you think we'll show you bad.' Someone throws a punch. You better not let anyone even think you're a mutant, either. They don't wait for you to prove you're not, dig me?" He regards those square-pupiled eyes squarely. "You hear what I'm broadcasting?"

*

"Well, I'm _not_ a mutant," says Lambert "But I can't really do much about what I look like, can I?" He rubs the side of his nose, and then he looks around at the devestation, and he puts his hands on his hips "Well, this place is a mess. I guess someone better start tidying it up." And of all things? Lambert casts around to find a sodden cardboard box and begins to pick up pieces of rubbish to put them away "So you're one?" he asks. Kai is, after all, just a little too superhumanly fine.

*

"None of us can, really," Kai says. His brow lifts as he watches Lambert start to clean up. Another laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head. But? He starts to do the same. "Nah," he says, "I'm just hip to the scene, man. We got to come together and stand up for each other. Freaks, I mean. The have-nots, dig? See, the have-nots, they're figuring out there's more of them than the other. The times, they are a'changin'."

*

Lambert lifts up a broken chair and tosses it idly across onto a table, and he dusts his hands off "Well, the way I reckon it, things will be okay, if everyone just pulls together and Does the Right Thing." Oh God. One of those. He looks up at Kai "I ain't a have-not, though - I got a restaurant, a great family, employees, friends. Most of them are humans. Some are mutants. Some are other things, I guess. That's how I like it. With everyon' telling me I cook a great spanikopita, keeping the red wine flowing, and sleeping in the sun."

*

Kai gathers up all the stray fliers and signs. There are bits of metal around. Earrings, broken necklaces, coins. Kai's pocketing coins as fast as he can find them. What's left of them. He's not the first one with the bright idea to go looking, but the quicker scavengers didn't get them all. "Then you're part of the solution, mate. It's not bad to be a have. It's just bad to be a have who rubs it in everyone's noses and thinks 'me and my own kind.'" He pockets a quarter. Score! His sodden papers and signs get brought to the table and tossed under it. "See, you're not such a square after all. You get it, man."

*

Lambert is watching Kai a bit dubiously as he sort of…thieves whatever he can. He seems to be very close to actually saying something as well, eyes narrowed to a certain extent. Then he just sighs, and he soon has a box full. Lambert digs around for a plastic bag, and it really does not take too long…before a small fraction of it all is better. Well. It is +something+ anyway. He dusts his hands "Uh, well, I'm the only one of my kind here, so…I reckon I don't have that option. I do? Hah!" He grins. That laughter, the 'hah', is a raucous, loud thing. Then Lambert stretches, and yawns "Okay, that's enough work. Where's somewhere to sit and watch girls?"

*

If Kai knows he's courting a lecture, he shows no sign whatsoever. Is it theft if it's on the ground? He's leaving the actual jewelry-looking stuff, though most of that has been picked clean, too, so maybe there's just nothing good. He looks up at Lambert with sudden interest. "You're the only what?" he asks. He dusts off his hands and looks around. "Watch girls," he murmurs. He shakes his head slowly. "Hmm, where are you going to find hot chicks around here now that the park is out?" He looks around. Damn it, he knows this one. Um… "There are some clubs around here, but you can't go looking like that, man." He sketches out a square in the air with his fingers.

*

"Oh, like, what?" says Lambert, and he pats his belly "I look fantastic!" And he slings an arm around Kai, shaking his finger in his nose "Never doubt yourself. You and me, we're amazing. I'm a sexual powerhouse. And you're a bad boy - girls love that. Some boys too." Lambert grins, and his teeth are just a little on the sharp side. Then he shrugs "I'm the only one with eyes like this. It doesn't come with any amazing mind reading powers or fantastic abilities. I just am what I am." And then he says "I dunno if a strip joint is my kind of hangout though. Just ain't my deal."

*

Kai blinks a few times at the arm slinging, but he leans into it rather comfortably all things considered. So narrow in the shoulders, and so easily holding up. What's this kid made out of, anyway? Solid meat? His brows lift significantly when Lambert mentions 'some boys, too.' "What do you know about that sort of thing?" he asks. Then, "I'm not talking about a strip joint." He looks appalled by the very idea. "I'm talking about music, man. Jazz, dig? Artists, poets, ne'er-do-wells, no, you don't have the look."

*

"What? Oh, uh, never mind." The satyr-blooded creature frowns. So easy to forget that humans can get all upset about that kind of thing - and so easily! He bites his lip, and then he waves a hand "Uh, definitely never mind. Oh! Well, I dig poetry - break me not with aching, nor with grief, Lady, tame my heart!" He then says "Well, I don't care. I like how I dress. I don't mind going somewhere and having people point at me. That kinda thing don't bother me. Now if _you_ don't wanna be seen in my presence, that's different, eh?" He grins. Again with the sharpish teeth.

*

Kai laughs, shoulders shaking with mirth. "Okay," he says. "Never minding, but I don't care, anyway. I told you, I'm tuned in, cat. I dig it. I'm down." He does give Lambert's look another once-over, though. "You're right," he says, "I don't want to be seen with a square, but lend me your ears, friend, I'm on uneasy enough footing as it is. I've got…" He chews his lip, then lowers his voice, barely able to do more than whisper the horror, "…a job."

*

Lambert rubs the back of his neck "Ehhh, I'm Greek," he says, in way that would horrify any other Grecian person around him. He tilts his head "You know, I only understand half of what you're saying. But what about my ears?" He lifts a hand up, and touches them. Nope. Still not goatish. Damn. Then he says "…aaaand?" Lambert pauses "Is…that a _bad_ thing?"

*

"I get that a lot," Kai admits. Then he laughs, chucking Lambert on the shoulder as he says, "Lambsie, you're hopeless. It's not cool/ to have a job. How can you really tune in while you're selling out, dig me? No, you wouldn't get it. You're the Man, but in the nicest possible sense." He pats himself down for his cigarette case, taking it from a pocket and offering one over. "Why don't we go to your place and you can show me all the neat stuff you've got there?"

*

Lambert says "No thanks. Need my sense of smell," He taps his nose, and then he says "Hmm." He can _tell_ that he is being made fun of, a bit, but he just lacks the cultural background to know what to do about it. The man chews the inside of his mouth a bit, then glances at Kai idly "Alright, come to Saganaki. We're closed today - I won't do a fish lunch unless it got caught that _morning_, yeah?" He dusts his hands off and then he says "Health and safety." Lambert turns and begins to trot towards the mutant district "So where are you from, Kai?"

*

"Those are good principles to have," Kai says, and butter wouldn't melt in his mouth just then. Making fun? Sir. Some people just have a puckishness about them. Sure, that's all it is. He lights himself a cigarette and tucks the case away. He ambles after Lambert with a much more relaxed gait. Elf don't hurry. "London," he says. "By way of Norway. What about you?"

*

"A podunk town in Texas," says Lambert "But my family are from a mountain near Athens, aside from that." He cannot help but chuckle to himself over something "I have six brothers. And six sisters. Let's just say that it's a _lot_ quieter in New York." He tilts his head at 'By way of Norway' "Norway?" he wonders "Like…uhhh. The big guy?"

*

"Athens… Athens! Greece, right, not Georgia. You didn't sound like you were from that kind of south." He whistles low. "Twelve siblings. I'm lucky just to be a one-off. Mum and da's unexpected wrench in the works." He side-eyes Lambert. "The big guy? Old Saint Beatnik?"

*

Lambert says "No, no, huge muscles, you know, wears a sort of blue and red number with golden discs - six of them?" He pauses, and he says "The only thing I know about Scandanavia is that guy. Lightning? Thunder?" He rubs the back of his neck "Frankly, I'm a lot better at the Olympians than the Norse Gods, aaha, no surprises?" He shoves his hands into his pockets "Yes. I'm the Seventh son of a Seventh son."

*

Kai says blandly, "Oh. No, I'm not related to that cat." He rubs his nose, then adds, "He's got a brother, you know. Loki. Don't listen to what they say about him, though. I mean they say he killed the president, but you have to understand, that's… complicated and essentially untrue." He squinches up his face, then. "Seventh son of a seventh son? That has 'portent' written all over it."

*

"Oh, in my case it just means I'm human," says Lambert to Kai "I mean, a couple of little bits aside - yeah, I _am_ different from all the others. I'm just a person. Funny isn' it? Things mean different things to different people." He tilts his head. Related to Loki? The names are clearly only passing for the Greek. The two of them are walking out of teh park where the protest was, towards another part of town. Specifically, where Lambert's restaurant is. And yes, part of the park has been tidied. Lambert has his hands in his pockets "Uh, I'm not really down with killing. I mean, a good brawl? Sure. But. Death is all kinds of permanent."

*

Kai walks beside Lambert, making their way out of the park. He's in black chinos, that ridiculous beret, and his dashing kerchief is white. Not as flashy as the red one. He has the good grace not to exhale smoke in Lambert's face. He did say he needed his sense of smell, after all. In ways that might mean food for Kai. He pauses to snap up another coin amidst the many pieces of metal shrapnel from yesterday's event. "I don't like killing," he says. "I'm sure killing the president is much worse but either way it doesn't matter. He didn't do it." Even if every piece of available media says that's in fact what happened. Kai believes this!

*

Lambert admits "I don't really, uhhh. Get involved in stuff like that. I don't want to cause trouble for anyone - or get a brick through the window of Saganaki, you know?" He clicks his fingers a few times, sniffing the air - away from Kai. Lambert himself has a kerchief, though his is in a Greek seaside blue, as befits his chefly nature. He pauses out in the open to enjoy the sunlight with a sigh, blowing out through his cheeks, and then he says "Ahhhh. It's a good day, despite it all."

*

It was a specific request filed away in his memory. With nothing to do for a few hours (well…so it seems — the life of the Sorcerer Supreme is inherently unpredictable), he can check this little mental box as complete. The destination? A Greek restaurant on the fringes of Greenwich Village, where the neighborhood bleeds over into the so-called 'Mutant district'. Easy enough to Gate there, but the weather is mild and why not walk? Stretch his legs…get some fresh air…things he doesn't do often.

Thus, with ground-eating strides and not a Belstaff, but a black blazer and slacks in cream, the Sorcerer makes his way towards that area. The crimson scarf about his neck staves off any chill in the breeze. Strange doesn't pay much attention to the bustling around him; rather, his expression is pensive, a bit of a furrow between his brows.

*

"No one's going to put a brick through the window of Saganaki," Kai says. He wipes his fingers off on his chinos. They're a little muddy from scooping up another coin. It's too bad he already missed all the good stuff the earlier jackals came for. So much metal flung about like bread crumbs for pigeons. He flicks ash from his cigarette and asks, "Despite what all? It's a gorgeous day. Or do you mean because of the fish? It's a free day off, man." His voice carries as they draw closer to the, sadly, closed restaurant. Don't worry, Doctor. The Scone Elf is bringing the proprietor forthwith.

*

The placement means that the little diner sometimes ends up with the odd brawl, but in general, until anyone starts to get seriously violent, Lambert does not appear to mind overmuch. Either they take care of themselves, or he tosses someone out the door, it is all good. Lambert says "They better not - do you know how much it costs to get a window replaced?" He says to Kai "The fish!" And then he laughs "Like I said, I enjoy my work, come on." They have almost reached the little Greek diner, Saganaki. Lambert peers at the Sorcerer who is just ahead of them, but really, what does he know? He just says "…hmm." There is a sign on the front of the restaurant: Closed Due To Riots.

*

The good Doctor in question is even in the act of raising his hand to attempt to open said door when the sign catches his eye. He pauses…and those broad shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. "Well…dammit." His reflection glares back at him before he turns in place to, frankly, head back the way he came. Maybe there's another Greek restaurant around…?

And the riots. Hmm. Something to look into from a Mystical distance, perhaps within meditation later on in the day. Wanda might know something as well, she has connections where he is lacking within the communities.

Those eyes rise and his lips rise in a bemused smile.

"Well. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've come to ask me for scones." Empty hands show in the air before him in a shrug. "None on me, unfortunately."

*

"You know that I don't," Kai tells Lambert, regarding the cost of a window. "There's no reason for anyone to throw a brick through your window just because I say 'Loki was innocent.'" He pauses, then says, "Oh, no, you're right. I see it now. People hold a grudge." Then he spies the Sorcerer Supreme, and his expression brightens like a kid at Christmas. "Doctor! I might have to ask you for scones. This bloke decided to close up because there's no fish." He perks up. "Oh! I've brought you a restaurateur. This is Lambert."

*

Lambert calls out to Dr. Strange "It's okay, I'm going in to open up the kitchen for a late lunch anyway, want to come on in? Do you prefer white or red wine?" Get the important things worked out first! Lambert is a fairly ordinary looking young man, a little on the heavy side, with a friendly face and a massive shock of curly white hair. He also has horizontal pupils, but that appears to be the only thing at all odd about him "You know, eh, maybe some grilled haloumi with lemon, a little dakos on pita bread? Hmm." Lambert is already rubbing his chin, and he says distractedly to Kai "Yes, they do. But, eh, life is too short for such things, I think. I don't suppose you play music? I have a guitar inside for performers. If this is going to turn into an afternoon event, I want music."

*

Strange pauses not too far from the front doors, sign and all. "Lambert, a pleasure to meet you." The white-haired man is given a friendly nod. The horizontal pupils are noted with a flicker of interest and catalogued away for future research. Some ideas whirl about that mental repository of Mystical memory. The presence of Kai, looking ever-so cheery and full of sunshine — er, moon shine — means the restaurant owner must be what the Sorcerer's parents would have called 'good people'.

"I don't drink wine, but tea would be welcome. I can't stay for long, unfortunately. My Consort requested food from here. Are there vegetarian gyros on the menu?" A hopeful light comes to life in the man's eyes.

*

"I knew you'd open back up for us," Kai says. As if he had any way of knowing Strange would be there, making an 'us' to open up for. He grinds his cigarette under his heel, then gives Lambert an amiable clap on the back. "I'm a hep cat," he says, "you have a guitar, I've got your performer." At the mention of vegetarian gyros, he gets a funny look. "Isn't that a salad stuffed in pita?" He hasn't caught up with the budding hippy movement yet. Not eat meat? But… but it's delicious.

*

"I have tea," says Lambert, unlocking the front door. He opens it, and puts the lights on, but leaves the 'Closed' sign on "Oh, I have those," he says, a bit suspiciously "But that isn't a _real_ meal. No, no. I think Kolokythoanthoi with Tsouknidopita - you want _flavour_, eh? _Real_ flavour!" He snaps his fingers, and then Lambert is taking off his jacket and tossing it on one of the chairs stacked upside down on the tables. He reaches out for a white apron hanging by the door into the tiny kitchenette at the back. There is a small desk right at the front for the server, and a ridiculous collection of potted plants, but overall, there are no more than six tables. A small sign at the small bar says: COMPLAINTS DEPARTMENT, and Lambert jerks a thumb to a guitar leaning up against a small stool "There you go. You, eh, sawbones." That to the Doctor! "Open up the windows. Let's get fresh air and music in."

*

"It might just be a salad stuffed in a pita," the Doctor replies to Kai, his dimples showing a bit more strongly for repressed amusment.

Following the two gentlemen inside, Strange takes a moment to linger by the server's desk, if simply to get a feel for the ambiance of the place. Quaint, in a way, small but not so small as to infringe upon the privacy of each table's conversation. Sawbones? Hmm? Oh — he's being addressed. He glances towards the kitchen and raises an imperious eyebrow.

"Just Doctor, please, Lambert — and I do need the pitas to be vegetarian. She has a sensitive system." Meandering over to the windows at his own pace, Strange seems to consider something before unlatching them. The air rushes in, smelling of springtime potentiality. Hmm, wonderful.

*

Kai traipses into the restaurant as though all of this has been both orchestrated by and for him. The guitar is taken up, and he tunes it idly. Yes, yes this will do nicely. Hopping up on the stool, he gives the thing a few more strums, then he noodles out a meandering tune, more Spanish than Greek, but it's not 'Blowing In the Wind.' "Allergic to food," he muses with a shake of his head. Boy the late 60s are going to be hard on him and his counterculture sensibilities. "The Doctor is a good man," he informs Lambert."

*

"These meals are vegetarian," says Lambert, as he heads to the sink to wash his hands, kicking the kitchen swing door open so it latches in place and he can still keep an eye on the outside "But I list the ingredients in case, eh? Nettle pie with filo pastry, sheep's milk butter and feta cheese. The other one is fried zucchini flowers stuffed with rice and herbs and spices. No meat in any of them - just cheese in one. Is sheep's milk cheese bad?" It might be _odd_ for the average American. "I haven't been here, and the gyros take a long time to heat up, you see? You, Kai. Keftedakia? Meatballs with grated vegetables, sour yoghurt and white wine." He snaps his fingers, and then he says "Hmm," as Kai describes the doctor. Lambert ties his hair back up and then pops a hat on and washes his hands - again - before saying "What is it like working in a hospital?"

*

The good Doctor ends up over by Kai, hands in his pockets as he watches the deft movements of the fingers over the strings. A wistfulness lingers about his expression, fond as it is, as if he's observing an old friend in action.

To Lambert in the kitchen, he glances up and nods. "No, the sheep's milk cheese isn't bad at all. She'll love it." Truthfully, her tastes in cuisine lead towards Greek for ingredients while remaining mainly Transian. The two cultures draw upon each other in some elements and the art of cooking is included in this blending. "Don't take Hjuki too seriously, however." The Moon Elf is given a wry glance and curl of smirk. "He's far too judicious with ladling out compliments."

Settling his weight to one side, he considers just how to reply to the perfectly-innocent question tossed his way by the chef in his hat. "It can be stressful, but the work is rewarding. Long hours, risks…laud." His shrug is markedly uncaring, rather dismissive for one holding such a title. "I don't spend much time there these days."

*

"Sounds great to me," Kai tells Lambert with a sterling smile. The shameless freeloader is nothing if not friendly to who feeds him. And a talented hand at the guitar. He actually knows styles of play that extend past three chords. He glance to Strange, and he says, "Don't say that name around Hell's Kitchen, man. There's a clown down there who goes around Robin Hooding. I don't need them thinking that joker's me." That it's been said not to take him seriously? Yeah, that part doesn't bother him.

*

"Hjuki?" asks Lambert curiously. That name? He does not know. But then he is slapping a cloth over his shoulder, and checking in one of the few expensive kitchen items - a refrigerator. The grill is powered as well, but everything else is fairly old fashioned. Including the fireplace in the corner of the kitchen with the copper piping for bread. Lambert takes a broad basket and is juggling ingredients, tossing things into pans, grabbing handfuls of thick, fresh herbs from pots by windowsills. He has that casual comfort one gets after a long time working the same job "Well, I won't say the name then. Am I the only person who just has one name?" He shakes his head as he tosses a frypan.

*

"I believe you're the only person with one name, yes," the good Doctor opines from where he stands beside the stool occupied by the one and only Hjuki. "Titles…that's another kettle of fish entirely."

Silly food sayings, huzzah! He might as well, especially in a restaurant.

"Though tell me…not-Hjuki," and there's a slightly suspicious glint to his steel-blue eyes that the Elf might recognize should his focus shift from plucking at the guitar strings; "What I should call you if I ever come across this Robin Hood-esque figure in the Kitchens. I need to check up on its inhabitants on a regular basis. I stand a fairly good chance of meeting them given the Kitchen's penchant for throwing entertainment my way." Entertainment, pfft. The word fairly drips sarcasm.

*

"Oh, are you taking care of Hell's Kitchen, too?" Kai says with a bright glint in his eyes. He accompanies his own words with more quiet Spanish guitar. "Okay, so turn up your audio cats: I'm Kai. In Norway, Kai's short for Gerhard. Gerhard Alffson, dig me? Kai: artist, musician, beatnik, and probably one of the best looking specimens of manhood you'l find on this side of the Hudson. It's okay to think it."

He changes chords, slipping into a minor key. "This 'Hjuki' fellow, from what I hear, he's a vigilante. He walks the streets at night, taking care of the forgotten, healing the wounded, and… I don't know, helping kittens out of trees. If you go asking after that joker, you won't find me."

*

What a supernatural power to have - if it is one. Because very shortly, flowers are fried, salads are made, meatballs are heated, and tea is served in a samovar. Without his waiter, Lambert does it himself, taking out the dishes. One set is packaged up for takeaway in wrapped cloths, the other is placed on tables. For the Sorceror, ceylon tea, but for Kai and Lambert, red wine, apparently. Home-made, given the jug. The plates are all rather rustic - from a potter's wheel rather than as shiny as a factory can make. AS Kai speaks, Lambert cocks an eyebrow up "Alffson?" he says, a little dryly "Hrm. Here we go, lads. You too, doctor, try some. Well, I'll feed this vigilante if he shows up too, but I don't want any trouble in here. Anyone causes a problem in my restaurant, I'm tossing them out on their ear."

*

A faint snort escapes Strange even as he manages not to roll his eyes. He will also not be sharing that Kai reminds him of his younger brother, but with a full dandelion head of hair to accompany that devil-may-care attitude.

Taking up his cup of tea, he blows steam from its surface before sipping. Mmm, ceylon indeed, delicious for its rich taste and aroma. The terrior of the region mingles in the strength of its notes. Noting the take-away serving placed to one side, Strange gives Lambert a little nod. "Thank you, Lambert. I'll send word along via…Kai as to how much she enjoys it if I can't return myself. She'll know its quality by the smell alone." Indeed, his stomach rumbles for the draw of fresh herbs and punch of spices, but…no food for him. It wouldn't sit well, even if memories of it cause his mouth to water.

Glancing side-long to the Elf strumming away, he can't help the sly smile. "You know perfectly well that my purview extends beyond that of Hell's Kitchen." He speaks softly, as if to keep the comment somewhat private.

*

Kai winks at Strange and says, "Hell's Kitchen is safe as houses." Right. The crime-riddled neighborhood every one who can leave does leave. He winds his tune to a close, then sets the guitar aside and comes to join Strange and Lambert, who had him at red wine. "This is so, like, authentic, man." He straddles a chair turned backward and takes up the glass, sampling it first. Then more than sampling it. "This is delicious," he says. He regards Lambert fully and adds, "It's a legitimate Scandinavian name."

*

"What do you mean 'authentic'?" asks Lambert, who is honestly confused. Greek food made by a Greek! He nods to the Doctor in turn, and then he pours himself a cup of wine, and settles down to eat next to the other two "I don't know much about Hell's Kitchen. I mean, to be honest, if you can't get decent fish or some dandelion greens somewhere…" He muses over that, before he says "I'm _sure_ it's a legitimate Scandinavian name. Meaning 'Son of the Elves'."

*

"Mmm," Strange swallows his mouthful of tea and smacks his lips, " — yes, Kai, absolutely, safe as houses." Another quiet snort. He is content as can be with his ceylon as he watches the other two settle in with wine and Greek food. Ah, sweet torture. "I find it hard to believe that our friend would hold that last name without good reason," he chimes in, glancing to the restauranteur and back to the Elf. "Has a nice ring to it."

*

"You'd have to ask my old man," Kai says with a pointedly indifferent shrug. Once he's had a goodly amount of wine, he starts in on the food. Voraciously. Where's he storing it all? A hollow leg? "I think he has it because his old man had it, and then his before him." Lies. All lies. But he regards Strange oh so blandly as he says it. He looks at Lambert then, no doubt with something suitably waspish on his tongue, but it's buried under delicious meatballs, and he can't get testy with someone feeding him. "I mean it's good," he tells him after another drink of wine. Then, finding the glass empty, he sets it beside the bottle and glances around without a word.

*

"Come on, eat, you look skinny," says Lambert to the venerable Dr. Strange, proof he must have no idea who he is at all. He pats his own ample belly, and he grins, and there is that faint flash of too-sharp teeth. Finally he says "So yesterday, someone pulled up half the pipes - which means I lost water pressure at home too - doesn't anyone ever _think_ of that - and metal flew around like mad and you're being sketchy over having the last name 'elf'?" He shakes his head sadly, he does. _SADLY_. Then he says "No, I have _my_ last name because my grandfather had it. He got it because he liked it - he ran into a guy who was a builder, and he asked him if he'd mind if he took his last name. That's why mine is Petropoulos. They were rock-masons. Built the Parthenon."

*

The cheek is strong in this one. Strange remembers well enough what tidbits of information he's picked up over scones with the Elf and, if anything, what ghost of a smile exists is gentled by knowing.

His attention shifts briefly to Lambert. The chef receives a negative in the shake of the Doctor's head and he lifts his half-finished cup of tea in silent preference to the brew over the food — no insult intended.

"So…son of an elf." It doesn't sound like a curse at all, nope, not at all — he doesn't put any subtle inflection in the statement, but boy howdy…the thought is there. Thus, the merry twinkle in his eyes and the laugh contained. "And a name stemming from rock masonry. And myself…'blessed' with Strange." He makes no further effort to explain where it stemmed from within his father's lineage. "Aren't we an interesting group. Though you, Lambert — your grandfather built the Parthenon?"

*

Kai inclines his head to Strange. Son of an elf. Wait, son of an elf? He peers at the inscrutable Doctor. He's not sure how he feels about the one being cracked wise to. To Lambert, he says, "I don't want people ask me for a tour of Santa's shop, okay? Everyone thinks they're a comedian, when they should leave comedy to those of us who are." There's his good-natured smile, back where it belongs. "Your grandfather sounds kind of old," he says, and he nudges his wine glass toward the bottle a little more.

*

"No, don't be ridiculous!" says Lambert, honestly shocked "My grandfather's never done a day of honest work in his life…unless you count brewing. Does brewing count? Actually, he makes amazing spanakopita as well. But mostly…brewing." He serves more food to Kai, though Strange's decision not to have any himself? Oh, how scowly does Lambert become! Those long brown eyes are thunderous "Strange, that's right," he says "Your mother would be very disappointed in you, you really should have better manners." +What+. Never mind "No, no, I said he asked one of the builders for _their_ name and then he used it. The Parthenon on the Acropolis." He then says to Kai dryly "Yes, he's very old."

*

What, better manners? Pfft. Tossing back the rest of his tea like a shot, the good Doctor sets aside the cup.

"I get the distinct impression that we should talk another time, Lambert, if your grandfather's hardest task is brewing and he borrowed a surname from someone who had a hand and chisel in the Pathenon." The chef is given a calculating once-over as the man clearly does some Mystical math behind his half-lidded eyes. From within his jacket comes a fold of bills and that gaze shifts to focus on thumbing out the cost…plus a hefty tip. He places it down within easy reach of the chef. "Hopefully this makes up for my lack of manners. Don't let my eating habits sour your cheese — it smells amazing and young Kai can have my portion. He needs it more than me." Picking up the meal still wrapped, Strange then levels a look at Kai. "Don't tell Mrs. O'Riley that you've put on weight because of Greek food. Remember: it's the scones. Don't break an old woman's heart now." A dimpled smirk. "Now…I've got food to deliver. Gentlemen."

With this and a professional smile, he walks to the front doors and slips out, being mindful not to draw excess attention to the restaurant and its "Closed" sign.

*

"I'll have that, yes," Kai offers, generously, on behalf of the man who actually thought to pay for dinner tonight. He then crosses his heart and tells Strange, "Our dirty little secret, Doc. I wouldn't dream of breaking Mrs. O'Riley's scones. Heart!" He tucks in to Strange's portion once his second helping is done. "He's a far out man, the Doctor," he tells Lambert. "He's always been super cool to me." Is that admiration in his voice? Perish the thought.

*

Lambert is eating contentedly himself. Well, grazing. Like any store proprieter, however, as there is a big tip? He laughs, and then he says "It's what a good chef wants - to see his food enjoyed. I hope whoever you are taking yours home to enjoys it, eh?" He tugs one curly white forelock, and then he nods, before he says "Good afternoon." And then Lambert is left with Kai, regarding him oddly "Is he? I don't know him. I mean, ugh. I guess I don't really know _many_ people here. Maybe that will change!"

*

Always in the kitchen, never working the room," Kai says with a nod. "That's a drag, man. You need to get out, mingle! Anyway, you know me, now. At least anything worth knowing." He munches, and finally just pours his own wine. A generous glassful. "And I know you. You cook like a dream. You're nice. You have principles, more than i do, probably."

*

"Why, what are your principles?" asks the chef "Weren't you showing them earlier, with that sign?" He taps on the table "I better package everything up and then go and make the pastry for tomorrow. Come by sometime. You can try the _real_ juice I brew in the back."

*

Kai tips his glass toward Lambert. "I like the way you think." He sighs quietly, and he finishes off his wine and gets to his feet. "My principles don't mean much when everyone still fights and attacks and hurts. If we're one, we're self-hating." He smiles a little, but it's a sad thing. "Anyway." Just like that, he's grinning again. "I'll be coming by here later. Probably with Doc." Because Doc pays.

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