[Maya]
There are few things more divine, than that waft of sweetly scented air that drifts out into the street every time that the door to Levain Bakery opens. Well, certainly the pastries they sell are a step beyond that, but it isn't simply the quality of the product, but the experience of being in it that makes it. And just now, a tall, slim woman is stepping through the door, eyes lively as she tries to avoid the crowd surging in, as well as the endless stream of people on the street. And all the whole, clutching a white bag of deliciousness as if it were a child, which must be protected at all costs.
[Victor Mancha]
Victor walked through the crowd INTO the Lebanon bakery. he was just dressed in his usual casuals, where probably no one might know who or what he was. but…eventually, he almost runs into Maya and….WHOA. Victor just pauses when he locks eye contact with her. systems malfunction! what is this feeling? for some reason, he needed to talk to her! "Hi."
[Maya]
Direct eye contact was a survival instinct, in Maya's world. She did not have the luxury of looking away from the world, even when she might want to. But that eye contact did not last more than a moment, as her gaze immediately dropped to his lips, the woman behind her bumping her shoulder as she was now partly blocking the doorway. And probably not for the greeting, which she seems to have missed entirely. But there's a crease to her brows as she studies the man, stepping out of the flow of traffic back towards the small coffee sundries station. She's still holding the bag of pastries like a linebacker holding a football.
[Victor Mancha]
Victor kept eye contact with her even as people tried to bump them aside. nevertheless, he VERY quickly went in, got his glazed donuts, walked right back out to find her at the station, his eyes studying her body and her facial features, as if determining if she was welcome to his presence. there's just….something about her. it's not appearance, but within. what was it? Victor attempts to speak with her again to solve this mystery, tapping on her shoulder with his finger, but saying nothing.
[Maya]
As Maya felt that unfamiliar touch to her shoulder, she twisted back around, once again settling her eyes on the man's face, eyes and then lips, her own voice low, but nearly unaccented. If she was from the city, some part of the city, her voice did not reveal what part that might be, "Can I help you?"
[Victor Mancha]
She turns and Victor is front and center! he looks her in the eyes, then her lips as well. "I…um. I am sorry to bother you, but…you are, uhm, extremely beautiful." He compliments her! He might be suffering from a neurotechnological malfunction. Either way, he extends a hand to her. "I am Victor Mancha."
[Maya]
Some things are simply too odd to comment on. As to whether it was the compliment given out of the blue, the rather strange setting, if it was intended to be some sort of pickup line, or simply the man himself, who, to Maya's preternaturally sharp senses, did not quite move…well, no, he simply moved too fluidly. "Thank you. Kind of you to say." The hand she accepts, though she has to settle for only having a single hand on the pastry bag for that, "Maya Lopez."
[Victor Mancha]
Victor doesn't quite seem to know either, but as she accepts his hand in greeting, Victor knows to give it a good handshake, which she does. "Maya." he says as if he was memorizing that information, making sure it was completely and utterly unforgettable. but…there was something about how she acted, who she is underneath, that made her undeniably attractive. with that in mind, he finds himself holding her hand to long, and when he realizes it, he quickly blushes and lets go. "What brings you?" He asks curiously.
[Maya]
It's another oddity to add to the list, but as he seems, well, rather harmless, Maya doesn't see fit to mention the length he held her hand. He was a curiosity, and certainly not quite anything she'd encountered before. "The same thing as what brought you, I expect." Since he too has a bag of pastries. "I got cinnamon rolls? What about you?" As yet another group barrels past them, Maya shakes her head, "It's too busy in here. I'm going outside." And so she does, turning to begin to make that final stretch trough the crowd to the sidewalk.
[Victor Mancha]
Victor nodded very softly. "I agree. I believe fresh air will do probable good for both of us." he nods and follows her out. "Just some donuts." he smiles lightly to her. "Where are you from, Maya?" he asks her as he offers her his arm.
[Maya]
Maya, already turning her attention to the fight for the road ahead, misses entirely the first part of the conversation, and it's clear she isn't just selectively ignoring what he's saying, which might be a better clue than her body language or her tone of voice that she literally cannot hear him. Indeed, she only answers his final question, as he asked it after he had come up far enough to offer his arm, which meant that she could see his face, "Here, New York." Between the two of them, they manage to finesse, possibly muscle their way out of the bakery and into the relative expanse of the street.
[Victor Mancha]
Victor and Maya are one strong team, even if it's just pushing people or sliding between people to get where they need to be. That's really New York's BIG PROBLEM. there's SO. MANY. PEOPLE. Well, good thing is that he figures that she's not ignoring him. She can't hear him. He takes a scan of her body and life signal with a simple look of his eyes, and he can tell something very pivotal.
She's deaf.
With a raised brow, and with his arm linked with her own, he walks her out of the crowd. "Same.." okay, that was a bit of a half-truth. He is from New York…but he's from the future.
[Maya]
Maya slips her hand free of the arm she had settled it on, as they manage to make their way out of the bakery. With the wealth of people now on the street they're both going to need to have both hands free to fend for themselves. She makes certain to try to stand so that she isn't going to lose sight of him, "You think you'll get used to it, but you never do." A glance away, as she indicates a sign in the distance, "Tantrum Coffee House", before she turns back, "I was going to get some coffee, if you'd be interested in joining me." She waits, nearly propped up against the outside wall of the bakery to avoid as much of the hustle and bustle as she can.
[Victor Mancha]
Arm easily slipped free, Victor turns his head to Maya as she speaks. However, he notices that she's keeping him in her sights. His calculations do not suggest that she implies hostile action against him, so maybe she just thinks he's…how do people say? 'pretty'? Regardless, his eyes remain onto Maya with a small nod for her words. "Yeah." he shrugs. "Sure, I don't mind going with you to get coffee, if you don't mind my company." He walks up to her side and he gives her a warm smile when his eyes finally meet her own.
[Maya]
"No, I don't mind the company." Maya starts the way down towards the coffee house. And from the looks of it, or perhaps from what he might have learned already of this time, these coffee houses are not the strange, almost astringent ones he might be used to in the future. These were the places where the counterculture of the 50s and 60s was both born and flourished. She crosses the street, waiting for him to join her before she continues, "And if I've seemed rude, I apologize. I'm deaf. I can't hear you if I can't see you speak. I hope you'll forgive me for not leading with that." And even someone who had learned to live with their disability might be forgiven for not wanting to start every conversation with that disability.
[Victor Mancha]
Victor smiles softly to her. "Good. I would hope not." and he walks with her along the street as he stays by her side, his right hand resting in his pocket as his left dangled near her own. Regardless, as she reveals she is ultimately deaf, he smiles to her. "I know." How could he know??? "I figured you were when you needed to look at me to reply." he teases her lightly. "But it's nothing to be ashamed of. You have a rare gift, to be able to understand me so perfectly." he compliments her rather warmly. Nevertheless, he keeps moving with her, his hand even touching her own!
[Maya]
"I'm not ashamed of it. How could I be ashamed of something I was born with? I don't know any other life but this one." It wasn't a long trip, from the bakery to the coffeeshop, and they were both tall enough that making up the distance was not a chore. The touch of his hand against hers causes her to drift a small distance away, as if it was not something to which she was accustomed. Maya paused, as they reach the door to the coffeeshop, reaching out to take the door and allow him to step inside ahead of her. "I've had to learn, it's how they teach you in school. No other way to communicate, unless you know sign language." Which, in the 1960s was nearly impossible as it was not yet considered a formal language and was certainly not taught in schools. "But no one really does."
[Victor Mancha]
NOW Victor really smiles. His eyes locking onto her own as he stays close to her. Though as she takes the door, he looks at her. "I believe it's my duty as a gentleman to hold the door open for you, but I will accept it this time." he teases her very softly. Nevertheless, as he walks through the door and she tells him about sign language, he simply looks at her, and he starts speaking in sign language. «Well, if you wish, I can speak to you like this?» How did he…?
[Maya]
"If I wanted a door held open for me, I would have worn a dress." And looked more like a lady, rather than a rather scruffy, mostly, tomboy. She does wait until they're both inside to begin again, but the signing he offers seems to both intrigue and confuse her. "I'm sorry, I can't read all of your signs. Is that a regional dialect?" Which is only to be expected. The ASL he knows is quite a bit different from the version that exists in this era, where most of the country has dialects that are unique to those places. "I can get some of the words, but not all of them. Perhaps we could compare notes sometime. But for now, I don't mind speaking." Particularly since she has no noticeable impediment. Also, he might note that the sign language is getting them quite a few stares.
[Victor Mancha]
Victor chuckles very softly. "Fair enough." before he stretches slightly, before his eyes find her. Though he tilts his head at her and his eyes seem to briefly flash some blue flashes, before suddenly, he tries again to sign as he returns to the more 1900's - 1976 dialect, AKA, the International Version, and he signs «Is this better?» before he gives up on it and he smiles. "Very well. I would happily practice with you if my ways are insufficient." Regardless, his eyes fall upon those who stare at them, and Victor stares right back. For being as young as he is…he's scary. though he does look to her. "Where will we sit, or do you want to drink coffee outside?"
[Maya]
Maya clearly seems to be a regular at the coffee house, as she receives a few waves from some of the staff working, and even gets a tip of the head to send her off towards one of the better tables in the back. Being a local does have its perks, one would expect. A nod, and then she shifts the bag she still held in her hands, to reply, «Yes, better.» But she settles into a seat at the question, "I think they're going to have a poetry reading soon. So I'd like to stay." And that might also explain the choice of table, as it gives her the best view of the stage and where the microphone, and thus, the performer, will be standing. "Not insufficient, just different. It makes me curious. I would like to learn the signing you know. I'm a very quick study."
[Victor Mancha]
Victor seems to nod perfectly in agreement as Maya states her intentions. "Very well, then stay we will. Though…I've always found poetry to be a curious sort of thing. I hope it's good tonight." he smiles softly to her, after getting his drink, he sits next to Maya at the table, giving her a kind little smile as she offers to learn from him. "Of course. I'd be happy to teach you." a warm smile touching his features then.
So for now, he simply looks to the stage. "so, I believe you come here often? judging by how the servers knew your order?"
[Maya]
"Oh, believe me, most of it is usually either fairly terrible to just alright. But I think it isn't whether the poetry is good enough, or prize-worthy. It's about being able to express yourself, to be, heard, I suppose you could say. To have a few minutes when you can look out at the crowd and see them, and they can see you. And that's alright. Bu then, if it's legitimately terrible, I can just not look at the stage, so I suppose I am luckier than you in that respect." And that brings a bit of a cheeky grin to her expression. "I do. I have, since I was much younger, so I've gotten to know the regulars, and that makes things easier." And indeed, her order's already being brought over, and she pays for it at the table. And now, with coffee in hand, so to speak, she can turn to digging inside the bag she carried out of the bakery warzone and retrieve a pastry.
[Victor Mancha]
Victor nods. "Very true. Most people just don't know how to write." he teases her with that soft smile though when she gives him that cheeky smile that only served to boost just how -beautiful- she was, he turns more to face her, the smile on his face clearly showing a fondness of a romantic sense. His hand inches closer to her own. But nevertheless, his eyes eventually move back to the stage as he sips his drink, his bag of deliciously-doughy sweets simply remaining by his food in it's bag on the ground.
[Maya]
Rather than biting into the cinnamon roll, Maya goes about the business of picking the thing apart into small, easy to eat pieces, setting them onto the saucer that was brought with her tea, not coffee. "And listeners tastes differ as well. Some enjoy something a bit more classical, others enjoy freeform. I simply enjoy watching the people, how they move, how they engage with the other people around them." And between that tea and the bits of pastry, her hands never seem to settle, something that seemed to fit her, rather than feeling frantic or unsettled. She was simply kinetic. And engaged, as her eyes turned to the stage for the afternoon poetry performance.