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Wednesday. April 4 of1965. Greenwich village, New York City. About 2:00 in the afternoon.
the sun was shining in that perfectly blue, yet only slightly cloudy sky. A cool breeze hung in the air, leading most people outside to be wearing Warmer clothing like jackets and coats. It was Nee York, so unfortunately…the weather did absolutely nothing to how active the city is today. But thankfully, Greenwich seems to be quiet today, and people are out enjoying the peace.
Rolling up along the street in his '63 black Dodge Charger. That engine could wake up the next city…seems Robbie's added a few more modifications to his ride. After parking that bad boy, Robbie exits the vehicle, wearing his signature and practically infamous leather jacket with a grey sweater underneath, black leather gloves over his hands and black pants over his legs. Of course he's wearing combat boots.
He puts his hands in his pockets as he starts to get a move on then…who knows who he will end up running into today.
Wanda goes home.
The ringing of the tea shop bells are easily drowned out by the rumble of the Charger's engine. Even as Strange holds open the door to allow the Witch to exit, he's glancing about for the source of that sound.
Not too difficult to spot the sporty car, and even as he steps out onto the sidewalk proper, he asides to Wanda, "I don't believe you've met. I'll introduce you." He offers an arm to her, intending to act the gentleman. Dressed in his dark Belstaff coat, complete with crimson scarf lazily draped about his neck, he waits until Robbie is within hailing distance before saying,
"Reyes, hello. No period costuming today, I see — not that you indulged in it before either," and he curls an amused smile. Last they saw one another, the Sorcerer Supreme was in another guise entirely, complete with feathered hat. "May I introduce Wanda Maximoff, my…other half."
Is this cold? Not by Wanda's standards, no, but that hardly means she goes around in a short-sleeved blouse and miniskirt. Partly, in no small cause, because she simply never wears short skirts and blouses like every other fashionable young lady of a certain age — under thirty, surely — or wear her hair charmingly puffed up with ribbons and barrettes. If she ever wore such a thing, throw a fireball at her because that isn't the real Wanda Maximoff. It's Pietro or a deadly monster, either way a bad thing. Now, the young woman all in dark shades walking out from the tea shop with a small bag over her wrist and a fragrant mug of some tisane, on the other hand, is the real thing. No smile, no buoyancy, the levity of a lead balloon escorts Strange into the world.
Why a man that proud associates with his own personal little black raincloud is a mystery for the ages. Must balance out the Cloak's mischief. Wanda may not know much about mischief except how to quash it by glaring at it. She sips her tea and peers through the steamy veil risen from the surface of the paper cup, those amethystine eyes smudged by speculation kindly called measuring; meanly, judgmental.
She lifts her hand in a small little wave of sorts, wooden in its practiced unfamiliarity. "Hello." The heavy Transian accent whirls around her English, cutting in. If the spirit side of the Ghost Rider is remotely awake, it has to be screaming at the top of its lungs in her presence. Not quite as badly as meeting the proprietor of Lux or his red-faced, pointy-nosed underling responsible for bedeviling humanity… worse than the latter, less than the former, however, since the incarnated tether of something infernal rams through her presence like an imperturbable spike. Strange's other half.
"This is «shiny.»" The latter, in Tibetan. No right translation for that. But the car *is*!
Robbie was just walking and minding his own bloody business as usual when Doctor Strange greeted him from a short distance away, his smile small, but no less warm for the Sorcerer Supreme and his significant other. "Hey Doc. Good to see you…and he?ll no I'm not dressed like the times." A small chuckle from the otherwise very serious Reyes.
Then his eyes fall in Wanda. "Hello-" oh yes…the Rider inside is shaking the cage, so to speak. While she's not evil or anything…it's more she's a walking whirlpool of absolute chaos that can turn things into a shitstorn. But hey, she's nice and Robbie is keeping the demon contained. "Nice to meet you." He says after showing a small amount of strain, Doctor Strange can probably identify what the strain is caused by pretty easily, being one of the few people to know what Robbie is.
He does catch Wanda looking at his car though, a soft smile for her then. "Didn't know you were dating, Strange. Would have messed with you about it if I did." All friendly.
Strange's eyes slide between his fiancee and the Ghost Rider, marking what little nuances in behavior show between the two. He files away the necessities, notably that Reyes has the control over the Rider as to not allow it to influence his actions in a mundane situation, and then his smile deepens further at the friendly jibe.
"I find no need to flaunt it openly. People discover it quickly enough for themselves." He glances from Wanda to the car and back again. "Mister Reyes is an afficianado of cars, notably that particular model. It's certainly a sleek thing, Reyes. Some days, I miss having a car, but then I remember that a Gate needs no gasoline and road trips are quick as a snap."
Worse than chaos; take an elder evil, put it in a corset, and hello there's the shapely outline right there. Not an avatar, per se; that would at least be tolerable, whereas she happens to be a confusion in and of herself. She radiates that unmistakable stamp that might as well say Property of Chthon in giant purple letters, the same way the Vishanti mark and barcode Strange as theirs. Gods are jealous and none more so than the four who shaped the plane and the planet, or the Creator-above-all — but again, go ask His firstborn for opinions.
The tisane rather tastes good on her tongue, and she manages not to choke down the drink with any difficulty. Never mind the giant infernal sign effectively blinking through every piece of her warped being. "A what?" Big word, foreign, not hers. Italian may be a sister to her mother tongue, but not perfectly. "We are one. It is known to the needy." Whatever that means.
Robbie nods a few times to Strange with a soft grin to his features. "Fair enough, fair enough. Though you did look funny in that dress you wore that period costume night." Yeah, he was messing around. "I do pride myself with my engineering know how and my love of American muscle.
His eyes fall on Wanda again. Clearly he's trying very hard to not Ghost Rider the hell out of Wanda, and thankfully, he's strongly winning that argument.
"apparently.." he responds to Wanda's weird words.
The Sorcerer scoffs at the teasing, though he doesn't lessen in his air of mild amusement.
"On the men, it's called a tunic. It was entirely period-accurate, I can assure you — I ascertained its authenticity myself." What a weird little jaunt it was too, back to that time period. Robbie answers in terms of the definition of 'afficiando' and Strange nods in agreement. Then he changes tack, his expression growing more formal by shades.
"How have you been then, Reyes? Still on the hunt?"
Period costume means exactly what the brunette thinks it means but she organizes her features into an inquiring neutrality instead of something bent on being the gloom parade. Or something close enough. She holds onto the cup for its warmth transmitted through her curved fingers, seeping into her bones. The heat loosens her knuckles and melts into her palms, so terribly tempting on a damp day. Not as though she's old, but nonetheless, that feels tremendously comforting. Strange's presence helps too.
"How did you know one another?" A question there, lingering on the air. Her thumb laces the rim of the cardboard cup.
Robbie chuckles softly then "right, right..tunic." He clearly enjoys messing with the strongest sorcerer around, as he doesn't appear to be nervous or afraid. "Yeah, still on the hunt. Almost to the rally. Five more and I'm solid." His eyes fall on Wanda then, nodding s few times to her.
"Saw him in a disagreement with another individual, so I helped him settle it." Do would recall this as the gremlin incident
"Yes, goblins. An infestation in the basement of a warehouse," Strange adds, smiling in his crooked way at the 'fond' memory. Nothing like banishing an entire invasion single-handedly — though proper points to the Ghost Rider himself, who laid a smack-down worthy of Sparta on the annoying supernatural pests. "It was resolved to my liking."
Still, his eyes linger on Robbie. "I hope your hunting has brought you into contact with those worthy of their fate." The tone begs a question, though note the steel beneath it.
Tunic, marvelous. Goblins, what?
That brings Wanda's eyebrow up. Her mouth tightens slightly around the corners, and she promptly finishes off the last of the tea. "Yes." Yes, goblins. Awful goblins. "Why do they come?"
Hunting needs quarry, hunting needs a cause. She hunts horrors and monsters themselves. It's a kinship here.
It feels good to be appreciated.
His eyes fall on Wanda then "they just want to grow and spread and be annoying while they do it. Easy to clean up if you have the right people." He shrugs lightly then before his gaze falls on Strange.
"not quite yet..but hey, I still have five more." He shrugs then.
Strange's eyes lid as he considers the man standing across from them and the silence lingers long enough to betray him mulling things over.
"Yes…well then, a good thing that you're nearly there. A pity things like the goblins won't do for your list." He sighs even as he looks over at his fiancee, his air now resigned and vaguely annoyed.
"I suspect that teenagers playing with a Ouija board managed to cause a thinning of the veils in this basement. The goblins took advantage of it, clawed through. I made certain to reinforce it, so I doubt that we'll have another influx at that location anytime soon. I think…I think you were having dinner with your brother that night," he adds with a little nod.
Goblins, a drain on the finances everywhere. She meets Strange's eyes, blue shadowed by plum, and the arch of her eyebrows settles back down the fraction it rose. Some mute disapproval at the idiocy for the young — she probably carried such opinions when younger than the summoners — colours her posture and the cant of her head, the sharpening of her gaze enough to throw sparks if hit just right.
"One day they learn." Or they perish as stupid mages do, and no one feels much bothered by the fact. Behold yon pointed look at nothing in particular. "Is there trouble now?" This is given to Robbie. As a conversationalist, Wanda is above a pet rock and below a Chia pet.
Robbie looks to Strange then, sending his irritation though he says nothing to the fellow. "Shame it is." He shrugs about the goblins and the like
Then his eyes fall on Wanda as she speaks to him, a small shrug of the shoulders then. "Not presently, but anything can happen."
"I don't believe there's any trouble, but yes, as Mister Reyes said, anything can happen. Fate is in constant flux, after all." Strange shakes his head with an air of long-term resignation to this fact. "The trouble may come later on, but I assume that it'll be handled, one way or another."
It's not his place to speak for the quest that the Ghost Rider is upon, after all.
The questioning bubble of curiosity will eventually evaporate away. She shakes her head mildly, holding to the empty cup and staring off down the street at nothing in particular. Trouble is a case of her soul, the shivering perturbation of the wrong burning in threads and jangling chords all around. The world hurts. They all hurt.
Robbie smiles softly for the two of them, before he nods softly. "Well, it was good to see you both, but.." he seems to crack his neck like he's holding something back. "But duty calls. Gotta finish up some work. I'll leave you two to your date!" He chuckles and nods to both of them, before he turns heel to leave.