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 Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 1:38 pm
Haley was frustrated. She had spent the last four hours in the park, on her feet and handing out flyers for her latest protest cause: making the streets of Destiny City a safer place. However, nobody seemed to care and simply passed on by her. Had they all become so adjusted to the mysterious and grim going-ons of the city that they simply lost the care to do anything about it?
Angered by the illegal activities going on in the city, she pulled out a joint and lighter from her back pocket and took a seat at one of the park benches. The park was mostly empty at this time of night – it had already started to get dark out. She knew she shouldn’t be alone at night in a nearly empty park – especially considering what her protests are all about – but she wasn’t going to let that get in the way of her getting in touch with nature. And her version of getting in touch with nature was smoking marijuana in an outdoor public park.
She lit the joint and took a hit, and then lied down on the bench and on top of her short stack of flyers (short stack as to not waste too much paper, of course). Her long and tangled hair fell straight into the grass, hopefully not into an ant pile. She sighed, disappointed in the world, and took another hit.
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Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 2:09 pm
The duffel bag rattled against the back of Warwick's legs as he walked, rings and wood crashing together to create a thumping beat along with his footsteps. Haley had found the park too quiet for her tastes; in all honesty, Warwick felt the same way. Perhaps the heat was driving people back toward home, causing them to cluster close to air conditioners and pools, where they could refresh, instead of venturing out into the park...
He'd had a crowd, for a bit, but not enough of one. When it had started to disperse he'd collected his hat [painfully empty, really] and his belongings and started the trek back toward home. Halfway down the path he paused, though, the music drawing to a halt and his head tipped after a vaguely-familiar scent on the wind.
Warwick wouldn't be able to sneak up on the girl, not with the chorus of performance tools rattling around every time he moved, but maybe she'd be distracted enough by her own activities that he could ease up next to the bench to blink down at her, expression someone guileless and maybe just a bit hopeful.
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Posted: Thu Jun 16, 2011 5:25 pm
Haley had definitely heard the man approaching her. She was frightened at first, until she caught a glimpse of him in her peripheral and realized that he wasn't a strange monster, evil demon, or congressman. Instant relief.
"Hi," she said with a smile. She wasn't sure whether or not the smell of the weed had bothered him or not, but regardless, brought the joint close to her lips and took another hit. She slowly exhaled, blowing the smoke up in the air and sort of in his face. She smiled again, amused with herself. "Are you looking for something?"
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Posted: Fri Jun 17, 2011 8:01 am
Warwick huffed out as she blew up at him, mostly dispersing the smoke around his face, with his head tilted to the side. He certainly didn't mind the smell, or the fact that she was indulging in any kind of illegal activities. In fact, after a quick flicker look around to make sure no one was watching, he flashed a grin down at her, fighting the urge to hold out a hand in request.
"Uh, maybe, not really sure." His accent marked him as a foreigner, vowels stretched out and easy. The bag groaned and clattered again as it hit the floor by his feet, and Warwick blew out a relieved little sound. His eyes flashed to the flyers, not yet addressing the matter of her joint. "What're those about?"
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Posted: Fri Jun 17, 2011 8:40 am
Warwick's question set off a bomb of self-righteousness from within Haley as quickly sat up straight, pulled a flyer out from underneath her and slammed the piece of paper into his chest.
"What they are about," she started, her voice filled with passion, vigor, and faux-enlightenment. "Is my dedication to protect the streets of Destiny City from the mysterious evils that lurk in the shadows, kidnapping and killing innocent people! I can't stand idly by and watch these terrible things happen, and people in this city seem to be too cowardly or too apathetic to do anything about it. Well that ends today. We must act now! Protest! Demand our government does something good for its people for a change, and protect them! It is in our hands to do something! It is not like this city has a fleet of superheroes to protect this city from the evils. We are the ones who must take action! Take action now! Demand answers now!"
Her speech was very rehearsed, and in some areas, very obliviously wrong. But that didn't stop her from feeling like Martin Luther King Jr every time she delivered the damn speech (which was many, many times today).
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Posted: Fri Jun 17, 2011 2:33 pm
Her enthusiasm took him aback again, left him blinking, not quite stepping back away from the bench. He almost stumbled over the duffle bag at his feet as it was, his eyes locked on her face and his expression gone baffled. Warwick's intentions had been relatively innocent: see who had the balls to blaze up in the park and maybe ask to join in. Now he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.
"Um." Someone else might have laughed at her, teased, poked fun -- but he seemed entirely guileless as he took the paper and tipped his head down to study it. Confused as hell, maybe not too terribly bright, but definitely not trying to get a dig in. "That's...I mean, how do you expect people to do that, exactly?"
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Posted: Sat Jun 18, 2011 1:12 pm
"Hell if I know," Haley shrugged. Many of her protests demanded something to be changed, but rarely did they suggest a way to make that change. "More police on the streets, more light posts for more light, emergency post stops. I'm sure there's some way to do it."
She paused. All that thinking of ways to make the changes she demanded was a bit much for her. She took another hit of her joint, exhaling the smoke off to the side - this time not in the new boy's face. He seemed to not mind at all that she was blatantly smoking in front of him, which was good, because she didn't want to go on a big rant about legalization. She could only go on so many rants a night! "I'm Haley, by the way."
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Posted: Sat Jun 18, 2011 8:29 pm
He took her hand, still holding the leaflet awkwardly away from his body, trying not to crumple it. It wasn't that Warwick had any intention of actually reading the thing, it was just that he wasn't rude. She might have taken offense if she realized that he, like so many of the people she accosted on the street, was likely to just roll it into a ball and drop it down into the next garbage can.
"Uh. I'm Warwick, and..." He dug for something he could say, eyes flashing to the paper, before offering her another bright, brilliant sort of smile. His tone went apologetic, tattooed shoulders rolling. "Well, I can't vote, so there's not much I can do to help you out...they don't listen much to people who can't vote."
At least he was cheerful about it, careless. Whatever. He didn't need to vote. "How do you feel about sharing?"
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Posted: Sat Jun 18, 2011 8:52 pm
"Sharing is caring, it can be fun," she grinned as she passed on the joint. She didn't mind sharing, even with a stranger. There was plenty more of the plant back at home, in the stash that she shared with her parents. In fact, she had only bought her own pot a handful of times - most of the time her parents had supplied it. It should be noted that they weren't awful parents and did have some limitations. For instance, they didn't let her start smoking until she was fifteen, just two years after her parents introduced her to alcohol. And that is good parenting. "It's not the best stuff, but its not crappy either."
"Take a seat, Warwick," she said as she shifted over in the bench to make more room for him. As she moved around in the bench, she took the opportunity to check him out in a more fuller light. "I like your tats."
He sure as hell had a lot of them. "I've been thinking of getting one, but not sure what of or where."
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Posted: Sun Jun 19, 2011 7:55 am
Warwick drew on the joint as he sank down next to her, an ankle hooked through his bag to draw it around the bench with him. The duffel was his life, his livelihood; without it...well, he could still find ways to make money, but it might mean starting over and that would be a crying shame.
A flash of a smile and he looked back up at her, sighing out the smoke and offering back to her. Taking drugs from strangers probably wasn't the wisest move, but Warwick seemed entirely unconcerned, expression bright and open and friendly, distractedly amused. She obviously wasn't a cop, there were no cops sitting in wait...
"Um. When you say 'where', do you mean where on your body, or which parlor to go to?" There went the last of the smoke, his head tipped and fingers sliding up into his hair. "I can help wit the second, but not so much the first..."
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Posted: Sun Jun 19, 2011 1:01 pm
Haley laughed. Tattoo parlors were all over the place in this city, she had figured when she decided what she wanted she would just head into whichever one was closest to her. "I meant where on my body, yes," she teased. "Why? Do you know of any places to get a tattoo in this city? One place that may be better than the rest?" She assumed he knew, considering how many tattoos he had all over his body.
She eyed the rather large duffel bag he had been carrying around. After a few glances, she grew the ladyballs to ask. "What's with the bag? Not hiding a body in there, are you?" She smiled at her own dark joke and took the joint for another drag.
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Posted: Sun Jun 19, 2011 5:44 pm
Stretching out his legs and trying to relax down onto the bench, Warwick made a faint sound -- trying, for a very long moment, to remember the address of Able-May's tattoo parlor. He knew how to get there easy enough. Knew which bus to take or which subway line was best. He could not, however, remember the address for the life of himself.
Saved by her question, he blinked into focus and looked to the bag, instead, faintly amused. "Well, no. It's work supplies."
He hooked the bag in a bit closer and opened up the zipper. The immediate impression was a cluttered mess of crap, but it would resolve itself quickly. Juggling supplies were on the top level, rings and brightly colored balls, a couple of clubs. Beneath was more confusing, wood and plastic. "It's heavy, but worth it."
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Posted: Tue Jun 21, 2011 9:43 am
Haley peered into the bag to see a collection of random crap. She couldn’t quite piece together exactly what he did for a living, but it looked like it involved a fair level of juggling. She bit her lip in thought before speaking up once more. “So what is it that you do exactly?” she asked. “Cause that is a lot of crap to carry around. I’m glad I don’t have anything to carry around for my job.”
Oh right! Haley then remembered she was supposed to be at work today. She really needed to stop forgetting about her hours; otherwise she’ll have to be looking for another job again…again. “I’m a barista at a coffee shop.” As she said this, she grabbed a handful of her own hair and began to braid it. With her hair’s length, it would take a while for it to be complete.
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Posted: Tue Jun 21, 2011 2:16 pm
"I don't have anything that stable." He grinned, reaching out to take the joint from her fingers as she set to braiding up her hair. Warwick was being helpful, naturally. He wouldn't want her to singe her fingertips or burn through her hair or drop it and waste what was left...
"I, um." Leaning back, he pulled on the joint again, the world around them forgotten for the time being. Warwick dug for a delicate turn of phrase and then leaned forward again, his expression teasing, joking. "I perform. By which I mostly mean fall on my face and make people laugh."
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Posted: Thu Jun 23, 2011 1:44 pm
Haley laughed as she tightened what little of her hair she had braided so far. “I see, I see,” she said. She didn’t really see exactly what he was talking about – she had ruled down the description of his job to mean one of two things: a street performer or a clown. To her, both seemed to be equally likely, but the absence of any clown make up in the bag led her to the correct conclusion. “I used to be a street performer, as well, actually.”
By this, however, she meant in a past life. As a strong believer in past lives, Haley had worked out with her psychic several of the past life identities she once lived. According to her psychic guide she was a street performer in the medieval times. That is, of course, until the Plague got a hold of her.
Feeling the need to elaborate, she then tacked on: “Well, that is, I was one in my past life.”
She tightened her braids once more.
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