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Well, Kwabena Odame is already two drinks in. Whiskeys, neat, each of them. He's chosen a private table to wait at, but here in the safety of the 8-Ball, he allows his unnatural, silver eyes to go unhidden.
"Girl's name is Diz," he tells Theresa. "Some kind of hot roddah; she's put de taxi back togedah on more dan one occasion."
Its a hot, sweltering afternoon; the A/C units just can't keep up, but fortunately, there's some mutant kid near the pool tables who's causing cold air to blow around.
"Does she look dissappointed every time you bring it back after an adventure?" Theresa wonders, some sheet of paper picked up from somewhere has been folded into a paper fan that she seems to be absently using to keep herself cooled. She's from a much less warm environment, and the heat has clearly not been a welcome thing for her.
Julie is coming through the doors, with a younger kid, following along, she's saying "That's great, Jimmy. I dunno though, maybe you could try a couple those art classes, too. Anyhow, I gotta meet someone." She holds up a paper sack that could have like a takeout dinner in it. "Hey, Iggy and I thought you and your folks might like some of this, save yer Ma some cooking," she winks, waves off, and comes on in to give the barkeep a high-sign. Which apparently signifies …a draught beer for her.
"No," the Ghanaian answers, smirking. "Thrilled dat I managed to get de thing to her in one piece."
It isn't long before he spots Julie at the bar. "Hey, dere she is," he says, and gestures toward her location. "Bettah let her know I'm here. Hahd to spot silvah on chocolate in a place like dis." Clearly joking, he stands up and motions toward Julie.
"Mmm." Theresa replies, giving Kwabena an amused look for a moment before her attention swings in the direction of the bar, trying to pick out which one is Julie, which, really isn't that hard. "Wave your arms frantically over your head, luv. That'll get her attention the best."
Julie is just scoping the place out, and waves as she collects a beer from the bar, and heads on back to a table, and comes on over. "Hey, Kwabena, guess I wasn't as early as I thought," she says, the accent, New York Italian, and smiles. "This your, ah, lady friend? They call me Dizzy."
"Like some kind of an idiot?" Kwabena asks Theresa, grinning. "You ah trying to get me into bar fight, just so you can see me kick ass." He's not really that cocky. It's all sarcasm, and it's dropping like sweat.
When Julie comes over, Kwabena motions toward an empty seat at their table. "Traffic is very bad," Kwabena tells her, before looking over toward Theresa at such a question. They hadn't really made anything official, of course, but the way Julie poses it has him smiling in a less abrasive way. "Ah, yes, yes. Diz, meet Theresa. Theresa? Dis is Diz."
"Not at all. If you want to do that, you just do what we do back home…insult someone's mum or punch them without explanation." Theresa assures Kwabena with a quick smile before she nods to Julie at the introduction, reaching out to offer her a hand, "It's nice to finally meet you, Dizzy…I've heard a lot about you."
Julie hehs, and smirks, having a seat. "Word gets around, eh? Guess it all depends what the first to say it knew," she winks. Glances around, "Ain't been here as much just lately, …kinda doing some classes, and all, but they mostly know me here, I guess." She takes Theresa's hand. Adds to Kwabena, "Generally this ain't a place for trouble, that'd kinda wreck things for everyone, and all."
"Dat would be Sistah Margaret's," Kwabena agrees, denoting that this isn't the kind of place one might want to pick or start a fight. "No, dis is sanctuary."
As the two ladies become acquainted, Kwabena remains silent, even giving them some time for small talk. However, at one point he offers, "She is, unique. Like us."
"He happened to mention that you fix cars, and specifically his taxi. That's all, really." Theresa replies, giving Julie's hand a shake before she releases it, only to shake her head, "I wasn't actually suggesting a fight, honest."
Julie laughs, "Yeah, that's usually what gets around. I guess his hack stable is giving him some real hard cases to drive. Maybe we'll work something out in a decent engine and all, once you get on your feet. Nice to meet you, Theresa, anyway. Our friend, well, I hope he'll be here pretty soon. She pulls out a chrome cigarette case, sort of looking the thing over. "Kinda something new got thrown in in a swap meet deal," she winks. Pops it open. "Don't smoke too much, so I'm always mashing up packs in my pocket and all." Offers one to the other two there, before lighting. "So, you guys getting on all right?"
At the offer of a cigarette, Kwabena can't help but accept. He has his own cheap menthols, but, it's always nice to accept others' hospitality. "Thank you," he says, before gesturing to the bartender and pointing at he and Theresa; refills.
"I suppose, yes," he says, and looks over toward the Irish gal seated next to him with a smile. "I'm still hiding de eyes," he admits, before looking back to Dizzy. "Depending on what paht of town I am in, but, no real troubah." His smile then fades a bit. "A… cop I knew was killed."
Julie ahs, hrms. "Yeah, I think I heard about that. You know what happened? They said some kind of sniper." She lights everyone's smokes if necessary, and settles back a bit to sip her beer.
"Gettin' on as well as expected." Theresa replies, smiling at Julie before she glances over at Kwabena, that smile fading at the mention of the dead cop. She doesn't seem to have much to say about that, though.
Its ironic, really. Until he'd been hunted down by George Stacy, Kwabena wouldn't have given two shits about a dead cop, or a live one for that matter. The Captain, however, was different. "Yeah," he admits, darkly. "It was a set up. I was dere. Hell, dey tried to use me, but I fought dem." He shakes his head, eyeing his new glass of whiskey. "Not hahd enough, apparently."
He downs the whiskey in one gulp, then takes a drag from his cigarette. "George Stacy. He didn't look at me like some punk negro, or like a mutant. He treated me like a human being, like, just, any oddah pahson." He shakes his head. "I hate cops, but he was… he was good."
Julie tsks. "Yeah, believe it or not there's a lot of good ones out there, you see em in my business a lot. I suppose the bad ones are off being bad when there's an accident or something, mostly, yaknow? But yeah, he sounds all right." Raises her glass, then, she hrms at a thought.
Theresa frowns a moment at Kwabena, then she reaches out for his hand, curling her fingers around it to give it a hard squeeze, "I'm sorry that a good one was lost. There aren't enough, if you ask me." She shakes her head a bit, reaching over to nudge the fresh glass of whiskey towards him, "Or takin' advantage of the accident itself."
Kwabena looks between the two; he's not much for showing grief, and it shows. His lips are pressed tightly, expression guarded, until Theresa takes his hand. He looks toward her again, this time with a soft smile. "I plan to attend his funeral. It's on Satahday."
The offered glass is ignored, at least for now. He doesn't want to be too buzzed when Julie's friend arrives, after all. "Must undahstand," he tells both, and looks back to Julie. "I did not grow up in nice paht of town. Saw de bad ones, mostly. I don't think it will be an easy thing to shake." It sounds as if there's a great deal he isn't disclosing.
Julie nods, "Yeah, I guess so, there. I mean, in the Old Neighborhood, yeah, things can be, kinda complicated that way, if you know what I mean.
"I'll go with you." Theresa assures him, although she doesn't speak to bad cops in old neighborhoods. In fact, she seems to look like bad men with guns and things are something she'd rather not even think about. "Did you two want something to eat? Maybe they have some peanuts…"
"Thank you," Kwabena tells Theresa. It's clearly time to change the subject, and he's giving no complaint with that. "I think so," he says. "Here, I will go and see." He then excuses himself, on the hunt for peanuts.
Julie nods. "They got good burgers and dogs here, other sorta greasy spoon stuff. Yeah, I guess I could go with a burger and fries, whatever you guys like, really." Smiles to Theresa. "So, managing your, ah, stuff all right, so far? Kind of one of those things this guy can help with. Kinda hard to explain."
"I'll have one as well!" Theresa calls after Kwabena when Julie mentions that they have hamburgers, then she smiles at Julie at the question, "I think I might be better than some others. My uncle, he was…very good about making certain that I knew how to control everything."
"Alright!" Kwabena calls back, before disappearing around the corner in search of the ordering window.
Julie ahs, tilting her head, "You got an uncle that's one of us, or something? Guess that's kinda lucky. I guess I ain't had as hard a time hiding as some, especially in this neighborhood, generally. Things kinda got serious lately, I guess, with the world and all, though. Makes it harder to keep a lid on things when you can do something in emergencies and all."
"I did." Theresa replies with a nod, her thumbnail picking at the table, "Rather, I do. Although we parted company a few months ago." She glances at Julie, one corner of her mouth twisting into a half-smile, "Yes…I've not got a very hard time hiding it, either. But emergencies do tend to be what gives us away…"
Julie nods, "What can ya do, that way." Smirks. "But, hey, it's one way to help folks, if you know how to use *that* right. A lot of good people can't get by in life cause they *really* stand out, as you probably see around here."
"I've seen more than a few examples of that, yes." Theresa replies, letting her attention wander around the bar once more, "I met a young girl one of the first few times I was in this part…She could turn invisible, but she had quills. Like a porcupine."
Julie says, "Wow. Who knows how we can do half the stuff we can. Probably drives physicists nuthouse." She winks."
Kwabena finally returns, carrying with him a couple of beers, and… a little metal stand with an Ace of Clubs on the top. "Our ordah is in," he tells them, before setting down the beers and reclaiming his seat.
Julie smiles, "Guess they got a new gimmick, here. Guess business is picking up, at least." She winks. Adds to Kwabena, "How you doing, cabwise, anyway? Last I saw you you said you had a real basket case on your hands."
"That's a good thing.." Theresa nods about the whole business picking up thing, reaching for one of the beers when Kwabena sets it down, pulling it towards her. She takes a careful sip off it before she reaches for Kwabena's hand again.
"Well," Kwabena answers, settling in. "First one, blew up and rammed into dumpstah. Second one burned in M-Town fiah." He counts off to his third hand. "Third one? Still piece of shit, but I have kept it from blowing up, burning to slag, or oddahwise ending up not driveable."
He reaches over to take Theresa's hand, then takes a drink from his fresh beer. "And de shop? Still keeping busy?"
Julie ahs, "Oh, that and everything else, yeah, I suppose so. Guess one of these days you should bring that by and I can see what maybe we can do with it. Could be a less-tired mill and a few less-tired parts could turn her around or something. Never did really get a look at the thing."
"Would it be worth all the trouble if he keeps wrecking them?" Theresa wonders, looking just a bit amused by the fact he's on his third one so far. "Seems like a lot of work if it's going to catch on fire again."
Theresa's remark draws a hearty laugh out of Kwabena. "Well, if I wreck dis one, I'm officially out of a job. Boss says, third strike," Then he snaps his fingers and draws a faux line across his neck.
Julie shrugs, to Theresa. "Really depends what's there to work with, sometimes you find a car that seems worse than it is, …of course especially with cabs, a lot of em are just run into the ground on all counts." She looks over to Kwabena, "We got a couple those Studebaker Larks, by the way, could probably work a deal on one, they'd probably make good cabs, cause they're just bigger cars with the overhangs shortened, still lotsa room for passengers." SHe explains to Theresa, "I mean, the real things that make a cab a cab are the hackney license tag and the meter, all told." She tsks a bit on that, "Maybe they'd be more forgiving if you got hold of your own, but yeah, wrecking em can't look very good."
"You can't lose your job, you're the only one of us with gainful employment, luv. We'd starve, or have to turn to a life of bread robbing at the store." Theresa observes with a laugh, then she gives Julie a look, then nods, "Perhaps the lady is right?"
Kwabena laughs heartily, and takes up his glass for a gulp of beer. "Okay, pahhaps," the Ghanaian answers. "It would be just one job. Steal enough to staht our own taxi company. One with lahgah vehicles, strongah axis, able to drive mutants around." He shakes his head at the idea, and reaches down into his pocket to produce a gnarly looking soft pack of menthols.
Julie laughs. "Hey, I do some custom work. Maybe Mutant Town could use a gypsy cab company, if a hack license is hard. Who'd complain, yaknow?"
"I doubt the regular cabbies wouldn't protest someone taking Mutants for rides instead of them, yeah?" Theresa wonders, picking up her drink to take a large swallow from the beer before she continues, "Are hack licenses hard to get?"
"Probably," Kwabena remarks, in agreement with both points. "Nevah tried to get one. AAA Taxi pretty much did it fah me, all I had to do was fill out de papahwork." Paperwork which…. may have been falsified. He's only a Resident Alien, after all. "I doubt mutants would complain," he points out. "No laws protecting us, anyway, so… why follow every law?" He then retrieves a zippo that's been through hell, perhaps literally; it's charred and busted, but still somehow works. That cigarette is lit, and he offers another to the ladies.
Julie nods to Theresa, "Yeah, a lot of em won't come here for one reason or another. And, well, how hard kinda depends how many the city decides to issue in a year. And how many the established houses can buy up, and all. But yeah, I mean, how much they even care kinda varies, too."
"I bet that we could maybe get you one…" Theresa murmurs thoughtfully, her fingers drumming on the surface of the table before she shakes her head at the offer of a cigarette, then she shrugs, smiling at them both, "Or just do that gypsy thing."
"I'll vote for de gypsy thing," Kwabena responds. "Does anyone even pay attention to dose licenses?" He shakes his head, then perks up as the burgers begin to arrive. "Jesus," he remarks. "I'm stahving and didn't even realize it!" He lets go of Theresa's hand so that he can reach up to accept his plate; they're being delivered by a tall, green woman with four arms and three navels; two other beers are perched between each bit of cleavage, for another table. Kwabena raises his eyebrows, clears his throat, and nods his head. "Ah, thank you."
"Thank you." Theresa smiles at the woman, taking her own plate before she smacks Kwabena on the arm as soon as their waitress has moved on. It's a light, good natured sort of swat, hopefully one that doesn't end up causing his arm to turn to smoke, "So, gypsy thing…what do you have to do for that?"
Julie says, "Eh, depends. Actually don't think you do anything all that special. Maybe pay someone off once in a while, gotta watch out for that.""
"What?" Kwabena complains, turning to look at Theresa. "It… she… wasn't…"
Okay, Kwabena, just don't go there.
Resigning, he reaches for his burger and studies it for a few moments. "That's just it," he says. "Pay someone off, yeah, make sure de authorities don't try and shut it down." He shrugs. "Probably still cheapah dan paying for all of de licenses, jumping through all of de red tape." He then bites into the juicy, delicious burger, and after chewing and swallowing, his eyes widen. "Mmm!" he exclaims. "Dis is tasty burgah!"
"Depends on the price they are chargin' to look the other way." Theresa reaches for one of her fries, tucking it into her mouth before she continues, "So, we find who we have to pay off for something like that, and learn the price. Then we enter into heated negotiations with them."
Julie hrms, having gotten a start on her own food. "Probably best to just keep a low profile, at first. Ain't a lot of money in the neighborhood here, but you probably ain't poaching anyone's business picking people up here and all. "
Kwabena wipes his mouth with a napkin before snatching up a bottle of malt vinegar. He proceeds to douse his fries in the stuff, a smirk on his face. "I love dis stuff," he says, then offers the bottle to Theresa next. "Low profiah, yes. Den, when business is making money? Den you go and get de real hack licenses. Go, what is it to say, bona-fide, yes?"
"If you wanted." Theresa agrees, taking the malt vinegar from him before she sets it back down, not bothering to put it on her fries, instead she just eats them plain. Not even ketchup. "But low profile…sure…"