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Midtown teems with people. People in business suits headed to their jobs. Tourists in t-shirts in hopes of a nice warm day standing in the middle of the sidewalk. A stew of humanity.
Vesper is part of that. In her smart shift dress and a red scarf around her neck, she sticks out as stylish. Also, sick. A handkerchief pressed to her mouth absorbs most of the coughing that sticks her fast. The bend to her back and her shoulders trembling speak to the force rattling through her. It's quite enough for her to drop onto a bench, displacing one bag of groceries and library books belonging to another pedestrian. Apology is thrown that way, but the annoyed silver-haired senior snappily says, "Hmph! Take you and your germs away from my tomatoes."
Just another slice of life in the city.
*
Another who manages to be around this hodge podge of people is a former employee, or rather, possession of the Weapon X program. A killing machine, to be exact, though one would be hard pressed to belie the fact simply because she looks nothing more than a teenaged girl. Albeit not nearly as fashionable as Vesper. Nope, not at all. Laura is keeping to black only. Black pants, black boots, and by sheer luck alone, there's a bit of white in her top, mainly because it's zebra stripped with vertical lines. Something beatniky. Apparently she also has a distaste for people not being nice to fragile looking girls, and when the old man snaps at Vesper, she moves in out of nowhere, standing between Vesper and the old man, as she hisses his way, "quiet, you, she did you no harm."
*
The slender young woman tries to suppress the cough. She does, though her lungs insist on fighting against the slow poison filtering through every breath. Grimacing into the bundle of white cotton pressed to her mouth, Vesper tries to go silent. Her large sunglasses hide the rest of her face. Not so much the frown at the response from the old man, or someone interrupting on her behalf. Eyebrows creep up higher. Her eyes are surely wide through the dark lenses. A hasty nod of thanks is given to the woman in black.
"Well I never. Young persons these days. So rude! Your parents must be ashamed of you," snaps the elderly fellow. The irritated senior gets up and carries his bag, stamping off rather than facing down Laura.
"Merci," Vesper whispers, hoarse. "Ah, thank you. You did not have to." No surprises here that she is French, the accent heavy but clear.
*
Laura seems to be triggered by the quip that her parents must be ashamed of her, it's uncertain if Vesper can detect it, or the old man, but she starts advancing on him with a dangerous look in her eyes. "My mother was proud of me," she hisses. The perceived offense seem to wage on her thoughts far more than Vespers' gratitude, as she just nods at her before making her menacing way towards the old man.
*
The old man is already shuffling on. Like the best of cantankerous old bastards, he doesn't give anyone behind him the time of day. He might matter later over coffee with other cantakerous old coots about how bad youngish folks are. It's the way of the world. Though he isn't immune to the feeling between his shoulder blades, one he might have experienced in the trenches of Flanders. He hurries along a lot faster.
Vesper folds her handkerchief deliberately slowly. It gives her a precious few seconds to compose herself. "Some people, they are intentionally very rude. Do not take his thoughts too much to heart." Her finger slides up her nose, checking the bridge of her sunglasses. Still hidden, all good.
*
Laura turns to face Vesper, an empty expression on her visage despite her angry movement towards the old man. Apparently she decided to let him be when he picked up his pace, "I was only going to kill him," she says dryly, quite the sense of humor, obviously. Right?
*
Such wrath crashes on a shore as gentle as the southern French coast. If Laura is angry and rough, the brunette still seated is the polar opposite. Quiet and thoughtful, a bit rounded. "He will maybe think twice about snapping at someone," Vesper says. She raises her eyebrows a little. Very American sense of humour. Something to get used to. "But I am grateful. May I buy you a cup of coffee in thanks?"
*
"Maybe…" Laura concedes the point, though from her perspective, it's far better he doesn't even have the chance to ever do it again. "I don't drink coffee," Laura answers matter of factly. She than stalls a moment, before adding as if she just remembered, "you're welcome."
*
Rubbing her finger against her thumb is habit. She doesn't even think about it. "Oui," Vesper agrees, nodding. Not about to be discouraged by that, she tucks her coat beneath her on the bench and assesses the state of the street. Many people, many vehicles. "It was nice. Is everyone here so rude? I hope not. It is something of a reputation around the city."
*
"Not everyone," Laura offers, but she doesn't quite suggest that people generally aren't rude. Then again, she's entirely the wrong person to answer the question, not that Vesper would know. "Just because you look frail, didn't mean he had to be rude to you. You're okay now?"
*
Her fingers toy with the strands come free from her brunette chignon. She rolls the strands along her thumb. "As well as I can," she says, alluding to sickness without touching it. It's important to be polite to Laura. Not make her uncomfortable. Her smile rises for a moment. "I feel better. Kindness is never an unwelcome thing."
*
"I'm not kind," Laura corrects Vesper, "I just hate bullies," she affirms, just so it's clear. She has no allusions about herself. With Vesper looking okay, Laura starts to withdraw, taking a few steps backwards, while still facing Vesper.
*
"That is a kindness, then. Too many people today…" She seems fit to explain further, but Vesper catches herself. A look over her shoulder affirms no one standing here, no one listening too close. Her smile wobbles and settles back in. "I'm sorry. He must have put me off. I should not keep you here when you have other places to be. But I will remember you well, Mademoiselle…" A pause. Another thing overlooked. "I'm Vesper. Maybe one day you will come to New York University. I can show you around if you do."
*
Laura looks surprised as Vesper still insists she was kind, at least through her perspective, making Laura look at her in puzzlement. She considers the invitation, and nods, "maybe I will, au revoir." With words of parting, she turns to go off her own way.