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Its early evening, on a Monday. Its not league night; At least, not this year. The owner's changed it yet again, and if it wasn't for the hard-clawed deathgrip some of the more established teams had on the hobby, it might have made a pretty dent on the venue's bottom line. But for now, the place is… more crowded then it should be. Air Conditioning! Advertised in bold, futuristic letters recently nailed to the front sign, its just the time of year for that to bring in business. A few confused, older members of the local bowling league practice their throws. Several lanes are occupied by young kids, well-enough dressed by to be CUNY Brooklyn students, jawing and laughing as kids do and generally being lousy at the sport.
It was the expectation of a lower population that left poor Gary alone, dealing with the unexpected influx of customers. The shoe counter, with its prices and racks and racks of colorful shoes, has a bell and a polite sign to ring for service. The man himself is sweeping an unused part of the alley. Briefly, he bends down to pick up a paper boat gingerly with two fingers. The residue makes it apparent it used to carry nachos.
And into this place walks a rather odd-looking woman. She wears her green jacket zipped up around her, unusual enough given the heat, though she looks unfazed. The hood is pulled over her face, making it a bit hard to see her, though her white pants seem to whisper as she walks, as the woman looks curiously at the counter, moving over towards it. Seeing that there's a bell there to 'ring for service'… well, that's precisely what she does.
*DING*
Swish, swish, swish. Gary's probably paying more attention to the sweeping then he should, but it can be something to occupy a head that was used to do… more then sweeping. At the ding of the bell, the man's head pops up, brown eyes looking towards the counter. His brows falter for a moment at the woman's outfit, before he flips the broom in one hand, moving a caution sign over the swept up bits with the other. Leather shoes carry him to the counter, then behind it, "Welcome to Barry's Bowl-a-Rama." He says, even making it sound half welcoming. He places both hands on the counter, "Where we aren't looking for any trouble…" He says, looking at the woman's concealing jacket, eyes casually scanning for suspect bulges. Only a few reasons to wear a coat on a hot day.
There are no bulges, save the ones that a person expects for a woman anyway, as she lowers her hood, revealing green linear tattoos on her face, as well as that tightly braided black hair, with the occasional streak of silver… though she doesn't seem that old, except in her eyes. "I am not looking to provide trouble. I only wished to try this… game. Bowling. Yes." Her accent is odd, somewhat exotic… as she doesn't seem to be from around here.
Gary gives an innocent raise of both eyebrows, "Try? Like, you've never been bowling before?" He asks, mildly incredilous, "I mean, I guess its no one's priority, but still." He takes a disbelieving expression, but thats mostly directly inwardly, before he turns his head, towards the price board, "Well, it's a buck for shoes and a game." He says, before leaning over to check your footware, "Unless you brought you're…. nope. Close though." He says before moving back into a standing position, "You'll need shoes while you're on the wooden boards to keep them from scuffing. Balls are down there in the racks." He says, pointing down to where the chairs and the ball return machine are.
Karnak nods. "Very well." She goes through her pockets, and pulls out a dollar. Slightly crumpled, of course, as it doesn't look like she has a wallet. Or even a purse. Shocking, really. "What sort of shoes are these?" She seems to have an indication of what size she would need, at least, as she then takes off her jacket and moves towards one of the lanes.
And her upper torso is covered in a green tunic that fits tightly against her, as if she were some sort of athlete. Which judging from her build, is likely the case. The sleeveless tunic exposes her arms, her fingers well-calloused from a lifetime of work as she goes to put on her shoes, also seeking out a ball that has an appropriate balance.
Gary makes a motion to the shoes as she takes her size, and then walks away. "They're special shoes that preserve the deck there…" He says, slipping out of his cubby and grabbing his broom with him, after shoving the dollar bill somewhere under the table. He walks back down to the lanes, near the previously empty lane where he placed the woman, moving the swept up lint in one direction. The alley itself gives trick enough to how the game is played. Even the college kids even seem to be trying. One or two of the guys even looks over the woman's way, only to be swatted by their opposite gal.
The stranger finally puts on her shoes, then takes a ball. A rather heavy one, for a woman anyway, though she doesn't seem to mind. She watches the people bowling and knocking over pins, then nods to herself as she studies the pins carefully.
She then moves into position, carefully noting the lines that no one is crossing, then moves fluidly forward and launches the ball at an odd angle… but there's backspin on that ball. It narrowly avoids the gutter, and seems to warp right back into the front pin, shattering into the formation and knocking all ten down with her very first try.
Gary takes a moment from sweeping to rest both hands on the top of the broom, resting his chin on both of them as he watches the woman's first throw…. and what a throw it was. It wasn't enough that it was a strike, but it was a strike with a /hook/. He just gives a blink or two, before straightening his back, "You know, you're supposed to act doe-eyed and niave until you get some poor schlub to hand over a c-note. Missed opportunity."
The woman looks over at Gary and blinks, seeming rather puzzled, "Why would I… oh, societal expectations and the misconception that women are weaker than men. Right." She actually smiles faintly at that, "That is not something that I would subscribe to, though I suppose I could see the merit in such an approach." She looks at the hand-dryer by the ball return, regarding it with a curious expression, then ahs as she holds her hands by it for a moment. "This is an… interesting game. So you avoid these side-things, and try to knock over as many pins as you can in a throw. Is that an accurate assessment?"
Gary gives shake of his head, moving a thumb towards the other players, "Its more about finesse then winging the thing, so… more about the whole 'I've never played before' story. The ball does the work. Its all about getting it there." He says, returning his hand to the broom, "I appreciate the ruse, though." He looks at little confused at said ruse /continueing/ though. "Err… yes." He points to the projector and the overhead sheet, "There's a number of frames. You have two tries to put down all the pins and… if you roll all strikes its a perfect game, you get plaque on the wall." He says, motioning to a wall that… seems rather empty.
The woman looks at Gary, then ahs, "You do not believe that I have not played this game before. But after looking at the pins and how they are structured, a deflective shot off the lead pin would guide the ball, if the spin is correct, into the remaining pins, causing the other pins to collapse." She shrugs a bit, "It's a… talent, that I have, seeing these things." Retrieving her ball, she tries another throw, in a similar style to her first. But this time, one pin stubbornly remains standing, causing the woman to arch a brow at that Seven pin that hid in the corner like a coward instead of meeting its just fate.
"I do not." Gary responds, not at all trying to copy your accent, but certainly matching your inflection for effect. He leans the broom back up against the wall, glancing at the other bowlers to make sure he won't be imminantly needed as he continues the conversation, "That's… something people take a while to learn, I guess. Gangbusters you figured something liek that out…" He watches your next throw, and winces, "Wow, only… sort of amazing. In case were still playing this game, if you knock that one down now, its a space, instead of a strike. Not as good as a strike, but better then 10 pins on its own."
The woman nods slightly, "Compared to the sparring practices I have engaged in, it isn't that difficult, but random chance can always affect you." She gestures towards that lonely pin, and smiles faintly, "Case in point. Though I have taken some time to study what the other participants are doing in their… lanes, is it?" She retrieves her ball, and goes for a straight shot at the seven pin… which connects with a solid thunk, sending the poor thing ricocheting around in the back.
Then she looks over at Gary, tilting her head, "So that is one strike, and one space, yes? But you… work here, then?" She sounds a touch surprised at that, as she gives Gary a curious look, as if not expecting that.
"Only if you let it. Chance, that is. Nothing happens because of chance. Its all… tumbling." He says furrowing his brow philosophically, before shrugging, the idea vanishing into the ether. He watched as the pin is obliterated off the face of the earth, likley startlign the fellow in the back, "Gadzooks-" He starts, before turning back to retrieve his broom. She didn't seem to need much help with the game. "Yep. So you write an X in that frame that say 1…. skip the box next to it, right a slash in the frame that says two. And uhh…. write your name in that little box in the beginning." He says, pointing up towards the overhead screen, projected by the station in the middle.
"No, I'm from /Hollywood/, this is all research for a role." He says, with a formulated, winning smile, though the statement drops with sarcasm, "Yeah, I work here. Its… well I wouldn't call it a living, but its a cot and an alimony payment."
The woman scribbles as instructed, then glances over at Gary, eyes narrowing a bit, "You seem a bit… overqualified for such a task. At least, so it appears." She hrms a little, watching Gary rather carefully for a few moments. Probably a bit longer than would be considered polite, anyway, as she nods, "Hollywood research. Ah, I might be doing something similar." Or well, she's doing research on SOMETHING. What, is a bit hard to tell, as she then stands back up, moving back to retrieve her ball as she glances to Gary, tilting her head, "What's alimony? A sort of bill?" So she's not familiar with divorces as a concept either. Go figure.
Gary gives a little glance to the woman's name as she scrawls it in, taking note of at least that information. That and the… unusual markings were certainly something to go on, should he actually be incluned to investigate. He returns her narrowed eyes with a a classical and natural looking innocent confuison, "Overqualified? How do you figure that? You think if I was qualified for anything else I'd work here?" He asks, motioning to the surroundings. He does cock his head at the research comment, "Oh? Wrong coast for a budding actress, but you don't look the honeyblonde type to forget which bus to take out of Kansas… what sort of research?" He asks. At her question about alimony, he nearly balks, "Just…. where are you from?" He asks, leaning against one of the tables nearby, "Alimony, I… I send a check to my ex-wife for spousal support every months; Or every two months with a firmly worded apology and request to not throw me in jail."
The name that the woman wrote in there is "Karnak". Which is a bit of an… odd name, to say the least. She pauses, then looks at Gary with a wry expression, "As I stated, not from around here." Which is true, if maddeningly vague, as she looks at Gary. "Mostly I just wished to learn a bit more about the culture here. Which, apparently, includes bowling. One can get a grasp of culture from its games and pasttimes." She nods a bit at the explanation of alimony, then hmms, "So it was a judgment against you, because of the vagarities of breaking a marriage contract. I see."
A very odd name. Gary takes brief, subtle note of it, "Ah. Montreal then." Gary notes drying, clearly a jest, sold with self-assaurance. He glances around the alley again. The retirees have laced up their shoes, and the college kids seem to be giggling over the tenth frame, and taking their time of it, "Well, its not a bad place to start, but you should probably start with a Mets game, then." He gives a little laugh, "Yes. Vulgarities, and better lawyer and a liberal judge…." He waves his hands dismissively over the whole case. Sure, he was leaving things out, but who wouldn't?
The woman eyes the time, then glances over towards Gary, "Unfortunately, I should probably go… though I do appreciate the education about the game." She makes a point to replace the ball where she found it, precisely, and also switches shoes to return the borrowed pair. "I am certain I shall find the time to play a full game next time." Her lips actually quirk into a bit of a smile, "And it was, nice, to meet you." And that does sound a bit sincere, which… well, considering the conversation so far, might be a bit odd.