Nano. RolePlay

Rappel du premier message :

CONTRAT DE NOT'RP !

- Statut du RP : privé
- Type de RP : FB fin 2007, près d’un an après l’arrivée de Katja dans la Confrérie.
- Tour de jeu : Mey - Sip
- Délai maximum d'attente de réponse : 1 semaine
- Sauts de tours : 3
- Autre : English :)

This is a terrible idea, I’m definitely going to regret it.

Except that this thought was about as improductive as the first 17 times it had crossed her mind, so Katja resolutely ignored it. When Dalton had first suggested to go to the swimming pool, she had agreed without a second thought. She loved swimming and she already spent a lot of time at the pool as a lifeguard. Except Dalton wanted to go there outside of the opening hours. During the night. She was so getting fired if her bosses found out. Well, at least this pool was small enough not to have things like cameras and other devices that would make it much more difficult to slip in unnoticed.

Why had she agreed again? Ah yes, because it was almost Dalton’s birthday and it worked well as a present. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder as she stripped to her swimsuit if she wasn’t making a terrible mistake. If she got away with this, she would have the proof that she had a guardian angel somewhere.

Cool, okay. He didn't mind walking either, but... I'll be even more hungry when we arrive though, so my second hot dog is on you. He folded his hands behind his head and grinned sheepishly.

Seriously? Granted, it was his birthday and all, but she'd just broken into a swimming pool for him! That was certainly more than she'd done as a birthday gift for either of her (biological) siblings. "You gave me a choice, as I recall. You didn't say anything about compensation."

It's fiiiine. He waved her concern away. Your inevitable second one is on me. These hot dogs were so fine Dalton was convinced she'd beg for seconds. No doubt on his mind.

Well, that was more than she’d asked for. She wasn’t going to complain, though. Not that she was even sure that she was going to have a second hot dog: he was the one still going through the growth spurt face, she wasn’t. "Let's start with one. Which way?"

This way. He took the lead. The city that never sleeps got its name for a reason. New Yorkers were still out and about despite the time of night. In bars mostly or on the way to a party, Dalton guessed considering the cocktail dresses and guys carrying packs of beer. Do you know where I could get a fake ID ?

That was an… unexpected question. "No, how would I know that?" She was genuinely puzzled by his question, and it was audible in her voice. "And what would you even need a fake ID for?"

Still waters run deep ! Maybe you're a criminal mastermind. He shrugged. In Europe you can drink alcohol at 16, right ?

"Beer at 16, wine and strong alcohols at 18, correct." Not that it changed much for her, because she only went back to Germany every so often. "I might be committing high treason or something by saying so, but beer isn’t all that great. Cider’s nice, though."

You're German and you don't like beer ? You're pulling my leg, right ? He grinned, unsure whether to believe her or not. Next she'd say she didn't like bratwurst or skimpy Oktoberfest dresses.

"I know, I know. Don't sell me out, maybe they won't allow me into the country. And then I'll need a fake ID too." Overly dramatic? Bah, who cared? It's not as if she was really planning to get herself a fake ID.

Pccch. Their loss. America is a better home for you anyway. I think. Wait, I don't know. I guess I just assumed. Do they treat mutants better where you're from ?

"I've never seen anyone speak out openly against mutants, though I hadn't done my 'coming-out' back then, except with my family and some of my friends and they reacted well to it. I should hope that we've learned from our history." Call her naive if you wanted to, she preferred the term "optimistic". "And the most famous examples of mutants are basically superheroes who have far more fans than detractors, so there's that too."

German superheroes. I can't, for the life of me, imagine a Captain Germany. He had too many stereotypes fed into his brain. They'd probably be about the same level as German stereotypes about Americans. Dalton just completely agreed with most of them, even though he wasn't an obese american in khaki's walking around with a hamburger in one hand and a hot dog in the other.

"Nah, a pseudonym with a military title would be of very poor taste." Too many loaded memories. "But there's Die Maus (or The Mouse) who's pretty famous. I think her name is because she's as grey as you're purple. She's got a gift for finding missing people and she's helped solve many abduction cases the police were scratching their heads over. Like a mutant Sherlock Holmes."

He couldn't help but laugh. Not exactly a cool superhero name. (About the same level as "Blue Devil" for a purple demon, I'd say, but who am I but a poor narrator.) I don't know. I would never work together with the cops. I just can't trust them not to stab me in the back, even if I did something to fucking help them. Sounded like a story.

"I'm not sure if she works with them, or if she just solves those cases faster than they do." But from what she'd gathered, she suspected that Dalton unfortunately had good reasons to distrust the New York policemen. If not all of them were less than friendly with mutants, then at least enough so that steering clear of them was the safest bet.

If you gave him the option, he'd always pick the mutant's side. Even it the mutant was very obviously in the wrong. He judged there'd be a story for that too. Probably the latter. He shrugged, then turned the corner. Ah, nearly there ! It's at the end of this street. Red cart. Neon sign. The smell of fried onions. Aaaah, I'm drooling already.

"Do you know how many neon signs there are in this street alone?" She was being purposefully difficult, because the rest of the description narrowed the possibilities down well enough.

Not nearly enough if you ask me. He walked past several food carts until one of the owners loudly called his name. Dalton, my friend ! You come for the best hot dogs in New York, yes ? Obviously ! He turned to Katja. Katja, this is Omar, proud owner of the best hot dogs you'll eat in your life. This is true.

"Nice to meet you. I'm going to start thinking that Dalton works for you: he's been praising your hot dogs all the way to here." And it wasn't the first time he showed her the "best" place for *insert kind of food here*.

That's just cause Dalton's an expert on good food in his city. And ok, he might exaggerate here and there, but is it really exaggerating if the food, nay, the mere thought of it, really makes you salivate ? It made Omar laugh at least. That kind of belly laugh that you can hear from the other side of the street. Ah yes, good, I should pay him ! Eh, just make the hot dogs worth all the praise or I'll look stupid in front of my friend, yeah ? Two Beyond Classic's !

When Dalton ordered for both of them, Katja shot him a curious look, but otherwise didn't comment. She wasn't picky anyway and it saved her the trouble of going through the displayed "menu" or asking for recommendations. So instead, she looked on as Omar prepared their hot dogs, keeping track of what he put into them (even though the general rule of street food tended to be that you don't want to look too closely).

Dalton couldn't care less what went into his hot dog. It could've been rat meat or human flesh. What mattered was the result. (Ok, no, maybe not human flesh. Even his stomach had its limits.) When Omar handed them the two hot steaming buns, he grinned widely. Be ready to be amazed.

The hot dog was good, that much was true. "Amazing" was perhaps a tiny bit over-the-top, but she wasn’t going to spoil the mood. "You really know all the good places in New York, don’t you? Now I’ve got to take you to a German Christmas market someday and make you taste the Bratwurst to compare."

For sure. He winked at poor Omar before he could protest cause bratwurst or no bratwurst, his hot dogs were the best in New York. Couldn't convince him otherwise (yet). Another fine end to a fine adventure. Maybe no blood had been shed, but stuff had been learned. That's an adventure in and of itself.