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Another day in New York, the city with mixes of all races, all ethnicities and more-over, all sorts of literally different species. Some were better at blending in then others, but humanity certainly knew it wasn't alone at this point.
With all the chaos, violence and everything else inflicted on the city more often than one would like to admit, it would almost be expected that people would flee for greener pastures, but one would never know it as they walked through midtown.
Life had been good for Ne of late. A little heist had rendered enough money not to get her dream off the ground, but enough that the 'mute' mutant had been able to get off living off the street. A simple illusion cloaked her brightly colored hair into a more normal black, but her image of normalcy was perhaps dented by the parasol she carried over one shoulder, idly twirling the open covering as she made her way down the street.
*
Cassandra Wu-San has left.
*
Ransom looks a little out of place…and if he weren't so clean, he'd look homeless. His clothes are decades old in their styling, a plaid, longsleeved shirt, jeans, boots, and a huge pack over his shoulder. When he sees the parasol, it looks like he's spotted a lost friend and he smiles, one side to the other, "Well aill be. I'm in the presence of a real lady." He stops beside her as they wait for a light to change so they can cross the road.
*
Ne's clothing was equally cloaked, only for the sake of concealing her usual 'ice-cream' like palate of colors. She'd been told more than once it was a little bit of a marker to those whom had a distaste for the different.
Such an approach by the man and his words makes the short figure blink, looking up at the source of the voice with a silent look of curiousity at the man.
*
"And a lady that takes a compliment…now I'm having a treat. Since I got here, I've been yelled at for holdin' a damn door, like that's to be much insultin' to anyone. Its just a damn door. Can't a guy be polite? You know I think I saw a girl without a stitch of bra on, earlier." Ransom is going to HATE hippies. He smiles charmingly, his accent rolling out of West Virginia.
*
Ne 's mismatched eyes carry amusement to his words, a little quirk of a smile on her lips while she gives a gentle shrug of her shoulders. She hadn't verbally acknowledge his comments, but at least she doesn't seem to be put off by them as they stand there. A tilt of her head the other way and she blinks before raising a hand, a little 'swirl' of her finger paired with her expression clearly asking if he was from around here….or trying to ask him to spin around. It depends how good one was at reading charades!
*
"Now yer takin' that …quiet lady thing a bit too far. But…I like it. You going to test how well I can play at charades? I bet I do all right." He considers for a second, and shakes his head. Then he tips his hat, "Ma'am, I am Ranson Harris, from a little town in West Virginia, though…I have been running with the trains for a good while. I'd still be doing it too if it weren't for the fact that this place is in a heap a trouble, makin' the damn news all the time and…people in capes hootin' and hollarin'…making a /fine mess/, if you ask me. Now ah may not look like much, but I bet I can put a dent in some problems around here. Me and Tess, that is. Tess is mah pet." He smiiiillles. "So, what's your name, miss?"
*
Taking it a bit far? That actually brings the smile to the point of showing teeth for the slightest moment before Ne makes a sweeping flourish of a gesture, closing her parasol in the motion and leaving it resting closed, point down with her hands atop the handle after his introduction. There's another curious 'prompt' of an expression at just how he might intend to make the place better, but she places one finger to tap her lips lightly before shaking her head. Yep, she doesn't talk.
Even so, her hand dips into her pocket for a moment and she withdraws a notepad, idly turning it over till the name written in flowing script on the back is visible: Neopolitan. Either that's her name, or she really likes icecream, but she moves a finger to cover all but the first two letters before pointing to herself. 'Ne'.
*
Ransom seems to understand that she can't speak, and he stays quiet himself as she goes about introducing herself. "So…that's Nee, right?" long e sound, clarifying since he can't hear her say it. "Yer parents had a funny idea about names, but I once knew a fella named Mildred because his momma was just so set on it. So, it aint the strangest I ever heard. Where are ya headed miss and I will be damned if I don't see ya there." He offers with a faint bow.
*
Well…that comment earns a falter in the smile as she tucks her notepad away. Parents were a sore subject for the orphan mutant, but she didn't tend to -tell- people about that even without her unwillingness to speak at all. Even so, she's quick to mask it once more with the blank expression as her parasol is opened and put over her shoulder once more, a tilt of her head at his words suddenly ended as the lights finally changed and she begins to walk fowards, even so bringing a hand to her mouth in mime of a drink. Midtown had a particular diner Ne had found herself fond of after all, and now she had a little more money to indulge.
*
Ransom is out front, his pet snake draped over his shoulders while he sips a tall glass of lemonade that may or may not have something extra in it. He's wearing a waistcoat, jeans, boots and a white shirt that has been rolled up to his elbows. He seems to be staring at a few squirrels darting around the lawn.
*
Julie comes pulling on up in a slightly-careworn looking custom '50 Studebaker pickup truck, which is towing a trailer, on which rests another Studebaker, in this case a low-slung Golden Hawk that's distinctly seen better days, along with what must be other parts under some tarps. Dizzy backs the thing up to one of the mansion's garage bays and shuts the engine down for the moment, before making her way around, head tilting a bit at the older fellow… And his snake. Which is definitely a curiosity to her, apparently.
*
Ransom has a definitely curiosity when the cars come rolling in, and he's not leaning by the time she gets back to him there at the front. "Those your wheels, missy? Or were ya pickin' em up for yer father?" He grins crookedly.
*
Julie laughs, a bit and comes over. "Truck belongs to mi familia, but I suppose there's as much of me in this one as anyone." Her accent's local, Brooklyn Italian, more precisely, and says, pointing to a rather cherry '56 Nomad parked nearby in cameo-locket two-tone and a mild custom look about it, "Those are *my* wheels, this poor old guy's this year's project for my shop class," she winks. "Your Mama's snake, maybe?" she returns the tease.
*
Ransom grins crookedly. "Nah, he's my snake. Nuthin' ta worry about though…he's calm as can be. Wanna pet im?" He waggles his brows. "I can appreciate a woman that likes ta get 'er hands dirty with grease and grime. In fact, prettiest gal I ever did see was knee deep in mud." He chuckles. "I'm one a the teachers…trainers…around here. I was out on a train but I just come on back in ta town ta help out some with you youngsters."
*
Julie ohs, and heys, offering a hand, then. "Well, glad to meetcha. Dizzy Bottero, well, I teach shop here, but mostly a student, myself. The college-level stuff's kind of a new thing, I guess." She thinks. "What you teaching, then?" Smiles a bit.
*
"I teach control. I work with the students that're havin' trouble keepin' their wits about em, or can't figure how to get their power workin right. Ya see…I dun really have overt powers, like…support gift, more like. I can swap bodies with someone else. And, I kinda have a lot of experience drivin' different vehicles, if ya get my meaning, so…its no guessin' if I can inhabit ya and do somethin'. Then I can tell ya how ta do it yerself. Not everyone needs a guy like me. More for…them…tough cases, I suppose." Ransom offers a lazy shrug. "Mr. Ransom Harris, miss." He takes her hand, but he takes it with his palm up, like a fucking gentleman and bows his head.
*
Julie seems to catch on that that's a metaphor, "I guess I just drive a lotta vehicles in a more literal sense, but that's, ah, cool." Or maybe a bit creepy, she must be thinking, but squeezes the hand lightly. Working hands, as much as she tries on occasion to take care of them. There's a sign of some grime today, likely from the contents of the trailer. "I get the feeling there's a few like that here, Mr. Harris. Some of the people here, well, just amazing what they can do, I thought *I* had trouble learning to keep a lid on things, mostly, but maybe I got off kind of easy, that way."
*
"Now see, I figured if ya fix old cars and teach about it, ya must have had something technical goin' on up here." Ransom taps the side of his head. "So, what do ya do, miss? I fancy ya don't need my help, but ahm right sure there are some here that do."
*
Julie smiles. "Family business, but, well.." She glances back to the car on the trailer. Wags a hand at one of the front wheels, and the whole car, heaves forward a bit in its safety-chains, …there's a substantial 'Vrrr…' sound coming from somewhere, then that of the old tire on there losing grip and spinning in place, till she lets it go. "…I got a little extra to bring to it. I control rotation, see?"
*
Ransom nods a few times with appreciation. "Yah I see that there. Yer a right dustdevil." He winks. "But I supposen you came up with somethin' bettern that to call yerself." He reaches up to run his hand along the snake's body on his right. The head of the creature turns lazily, calmly.
*
Julie smirks. "Guess I already got this nick, goes way back, really, so hadn't thought about it. She says, "How bout the snake, he got a name?"
*
"His name is John. I do a lot of work with him and…he ended up picking that name while he was me. If I do it a lot with a critter, we…get ta know each other right well." Ransom reveals…hey, there are weirder things out there.
*
Julie nods. "Well, I guess maybe snakes like to keep it low-key," she smirks. "Guess I better get on with hosing this stuff down and getting it put somewhere. I guess maybe I'll catch you later?"
*
Ransom tips his head with a little tap of his fingers to his forehead, like he's tilting a hat he's not wearing today. "I reckon I will, miss."