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Sunny has only recently found out about the magnificent food to be found here, in Chinatown! Nico, her new best friend in New York(!!), told her that Chinatown was *the* place to go to get authentic, to-die-for Chinese food. So, when her best friend (and possible future new roomie!) went to take care of something, Sunny wandered her way out of the apartment and began strolling the streets of Chinatown.
The hustle and bustle of the small people teeming all around her — for she was certainly larger, in most respects, than the majority of the people filling the streets — was exhilarating for her. So many people, so many opportunities to funnel her excess lifeforce! All of them speaking rapidly in a language she didn't understand! She was all smiles and dimples, and she was visibly glowing from it all. People tended to stand nearer to her, following after her sometimes, even though she didn't understand their rapid-fire Chinese.
She made her way to a street vendor that had a visible English menu for her to order from, and began placing her order. Mushu pork, barbecue spare ribs, and steamed dumplings, yum! She waited patiently while the owner started putting her food into takeout containers that she placed on a tray with silverware, and motioned Sunny to "Sitsitsit!" at one of her tiny little tables, giving her a large glass of Sprite to drink with her food.
Superboy doesn't always have a lot of spare cash. He eats all right, but mostly from the kindness of street vendors, usually those who know the tough boy for occasionally offering street protection and running off the punks that make their lives miserable.
He's still kind of a punk, though. He has his jacket collar popped, framing his neck as he makes his way to the restaurant. He comes up to the counter, with Sunny's seat right nearby, where the owner can keep an eye on the voluptuous youngster.
"Hey there, Lo Sing. I got a little scratch today, how 'bout you hook me up with some o' those crispy cabbage log things, man? With a lotta that red dunkin' jam, the stuff that's all tangy, I really dig that," he says.
He sees Sunny there and throws the girl a wink, the muscular youth languid as he puts his weight on his elbow. A close assessment might note that his foot isn't -quite- touching the ground. "Damn, I gotta say, the scenery around here's gettin' an awful lot better. Who's the honey, Lo? She puts me of a mind to get slapped, cause she makes me feel all kinds of fresh," he says.
Sunny, having been set up with her food quite quickly, and bustled into a seat, doesn't notice Conner right away. No, at first, she's just opening up her containers to let them cool enough to eat, and sipping at her delightfully bubbly Sprite through its straw. The evening is cool enough, compared to the day, and there's a nice breeze going through the tented area that Sunny's pretty brunette locks are going to sway with it, carrying her scent on it.
Lo Sing grunts at Superboy, nodding his head briskly as the young punk places an order, "Sweet sour sauce, I tell you all the time." His voice is gruff, like his appearance, but Lo Sing has a heart of gold — as far as a street chef can manage in the cut-throat world of Chinatown cuisine. Maybe he put some laxatives in his competitors' spices, once or twice, but hey. It's business. He gets to work preparing the boy's meal and shoves it at him on a tray, as he does with everyone — whether or not they're going to sit at a table.
"Who?" he demands, squinting his eyes. "Oh, new girl. First time see her. She too much for you," he informs, and hedges, giving the young man a sly, devilish little grin. Is it a challenge? Maybe so! Knowing Lo Sing, yep. "Make bet. She tell me she go on date with you, I give you free romantic dinner for two," he offers, sending the details of his bet to his cooks in lightspeed Chinese. He, and the cooks, share a raucous laugh at Conner's expense. They love teasing him!
Superboy shrugs off his black leather jacket and hangs it on the other seat at Sunny's table, "You got a deal, old man," he says. He unrolls the sleeve of his white t-shirt, stretched over his biceps, revealing a half-crumpled pack of Lucky Strikes. He puts one to his lips and strikes a match against his wrist, lighting his smoke as his kinetic field ignites the tinder.
"Hey there, sugar. My name's Conner, but some people call me Superboy. Maybe you ain't heard o' me - that's okay, you will soon enough," he says. "An' I got a secret to tell ya,' he says.
He leans in and whispers in the girl's ear, boldly brushing a lock of hair from her lobe as he pitches his voice low, "If you tell that old Chinese that you'll go on a date with me, he'll give us free food. You like free food? Cause I know I do."
Sunny is just sitting there, minding her own business, with a mouthful of spare rib, her lips smeared with the sauce, when a very cute guy strides over to her table and begins whispering in her ear! Oh, my! She freezes in place as Conner whispers his secret into her ear and, when he draws back, she regards him with a skeptical look. She chews her comically full mouth of food and swallows a couple of times, then wipes her mouth off with one of a stack of napkins she's set aside. "Is it because I'm squeezable that you think I like free food?" she asks with a slight narrowing of her eyes. "'Cause, I'll tell you that it's not the best way to endear yourself to me…/Superboy/," she says with a grin, taking a lonnnng sip of her Sprite.
Lo Sing's sent one of his cooks to bus a nearby table, to keep tabs on how Superboy's doing. He calls out 'HE'S BOMBING,' in Chinese and a loud cheer goes up from Lo Sing and the others behind the counter. They laugh and elbow each other, Lo Sing waggling his eyebrows at Conner and pointing at him.
Sunny's eyebrows lift at this display, and she can't help but grin. She's not sure /what/ they're saying, but they all seem so /happy/! It's infectious! "Anyway, that's not to say I wouldn't go on a date with you — I just wouldn't do it solely for free food," she continues, smiling prettily and picking up her chopsticks. She stabs one of the dumplings with one chopstick and awkwardly clasps it with the other before dipping it in the dumpling sauce. At the stabbing, the rowdy cooks call out a loud groan, 'MAYBE HE'S BETTER OFF IF SHE DOESN'T DATE HIM, IF THAT'S HOW SHE HANDLES DUMPLINGS.' Lo Sing is dying laughing, pointing at Conner and giving him encouraging motions.
Superboy doesn't understand the shouts and jeers of the restaurant staff, although he gets a certain sense of the general gist. Luckily, the Metropolis Kid is bulletproof in his ego as much as he is on his skin. In that he seems totally invulnerable, but it's really just kind of a trick.
He snatches up a pair of chopsticks, "Here, lemme help ya with that," he says. His tactile TK spreads over the chopsticks, allowing him incredible dexterity and grip as he snatches up a dumpling. He tosses it in the air and snatches it up again, flips it up and dances it over his knuckles, grabs it out of the air when he flips it and casually pops it in his mouth.
"Ouch. That was…hot," he says, sticking out his tongue for a moment and shaking his head, "And you being squeezable just means that it's an incredible bonus that I get to hit on you in exchange for vital nutrition. I mean, if you don't want the free food, I'll be happy to eat your portion, too. I'm just that kind of guy, willing to sacrifice myself," he says with a playful wink.
"I'm also handsome, super strong, super powerful, very, very cool and almost certainly bound to be on the cover of several major magazines before the year is out. Or, at the very least, before we put a man on the moon," he grins. "Wouldn't you like the chance to say to a breathless reporter, someday, "I broke that amazing Superboy's heart over a free Chinese dinner?"
"But, that's exactly what I'm doing," Sunny replies with a lovely smile. "I'm turning you down for the date, thus breaking your heart over a free Chinese dinner," she winks and closes her food containers. "If you're hungry and need money for food, I'll happily buy you a dinner, but I bought this one for myself, and maybe my best friend, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't help yourself to it without asking," she says, looking apologetic as she says it. "I'm sorry if I'm being rude. I just… You seem enamored enough of yourself for the both of us, and you'll enjoy your company more than mine." Gosh, this isn't going Conner's way! Maybe egotism is the wrong tack to take with this girl?
'OH, MAN, IT'S ALL IN FLAMES, LO SING,' the busboy calls out, making throat-cutting motions before slapping his wet washcloth on the table top and giving it a vigorous wipedown. Lo Sing is shaking his head, "Give up, boy! I give you free romantic dinner for one! Consolation prize!" The cooks are all making comforting rumblings.
Superboy seems confused by his tactics not working. They always work in the movies, after all, where the guys with the leather jackets talk trash and show off and get flocked to. He finds the whole thing very confusing. It shows in his face, as he grows a bit red and embarrassed, flicking his eyes to the laughing Chinese employees. He kind of folds in on himself a little bit, his chin dropping, shoulders drooping a bit.
"Sorry," he says. He slumps into the seat across from her, holding his own egg rolls to his hand, "You can have one of my crispy logs," he says, opening up the steaming bag and laying one on her tray. "They're good if you dip 'em in the red stuff," he says.
There's a slight catch in his voice and he's clearly deflated. He might have raged, in some circumstances, but this is one of the few places that occasionally lets him eat on credit so he's not going to start tossing Lo Sing's waiters around, even if he feels like it a bit. He just kind of curls into himself and focuses on his food, shoving an egg roll into his mouth and chewing.
Now, Sunny feels /terrible!/ Watching Conner droop and wilt, like some beautiful flower starved of water or sunlight. It's awful! He's like a kicked puppy! As he sinks down in the chair opposite her, Sunny's brows knit upward and she feels her eyes tearing up, already. Oh, man, is she ever hormonal! "Oh, Conner, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so cruel," she says, sounding super apologetic. "You just.. You reminded me of all the mean boys from Los Angeles, the ones who treated me and other girls like trash because they thought they were so great," she tries to explain, opening her food containers, again. Maybe, if she plies you with food, you won't be so hurt!
"Crispy logs? Red stuff?" she says in wonder, looking at the egg rolls he proffers and the sweet and sour sauce. "SWEET SOUR SAUCE, BOY! SWEET SOUR SAUCE!" calls Lo Sing helpfully. Sunny smiles a little at the old man, then turns her gaze back to Conner, who's still sad and slumped. "I'm sorry, Conner. I didn't mean to shut you down so hard. I thought you were a stereotypical cocky guy, and I'm just not interested in someone like that. I dunno what kinda boy I'm interested in, but it's definitely not gonna be someone who's checking his own reflection all the time," she smiles softly. "That's not you, I don't think. But, if you don't show me who you are, I'll never know if I'd go on a date with you or not!" She's still trying to offer him food, since she knows he likes it.
Superboy looks at the girl for a long moment, listening to her words carefully. She's probably seeing more of him, at the moment, than most anybody ever has. He's always been pretty heavy on the bravado and the derring-do and, truth is, it's mostly always worked for him.
"I don't know who I am," he finally says, quietly, throwing quick eye-daggers at Lo Sing's loud mouth interruption. "I mean…not really," he says. "I'm just…me. But I mean…I don't know where I came from. Or what I am. I don't even know if I know everything I can do,' he shrugs.
He eats another egg roll, munching it down with a few swift bites, punctuated with dips in the sweet and sour. He says, "I didn't mean to make you feel…bad,' he says. "I just…I thought that's what girls liked?" he says, obviously still a little confused as to why she didn't. "Tough guys. Bad boys. JDs," he says, using the shorthand for juvenile delinquent he'd heard in a couple of things. "Leather and fast cars and switchblades, man," he says, his voice obviously imitating someone else's patter.
Sunny's sweet, big heart is moved by Conner's admission that he doesn't know who he is, and that he doesn't know where he came from, or what he is. In one sense, she can totally relate — she doesn't know what she is, either. In the other senses, well… He's like a very handsome lost puppy! Maybe he even has…amnesia or something. She's pretty sure she's healed amnesia, before, but that might have been a special case. "Say, Conner… Maybe you should sit here with me while I eat and see if, y'know, some of your memories start to come back to you. Sometimes, talking with the right person can help, like, jar memories loose or whatever," she says encouragingly. "Maybe you'll remember who you are, even, and where you come from. I noticed that you have an amazing ability, so maybe that has something to do with it," she muses, digging a fork into her mushu pork.
"As for what girls like… Every girl is different. Sure, the bad boy/tough guy thing can be very attractive, but those guys often have a hidden vulnerable side that they only show to the girl, or something like that. Bad boys with hearts of gold, tough guys with soft spots for their romantic interests," she says, feeling pretty strong on her movie theory! She's watched /lots/ of movies. "JDs? James Deans? Well, I suppose so…" she considers. "But, switchblades are dangerous! And, James Dean would probably advise against fast cars, if he had it to do all over again," she adds, noting the irony there.