capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO: NATASHA and GIL
WHERE: somewhere they will run into each other who cares
WHEN: late afternoon of 5/21
WARNINGS: no?
SUMMARY: Gil has decided maybe he does indeed need a job here and makes a really sad attempt at job hunting. Natasha probably shakes her head at all this.
FORMAT: quick

[ In all honesty, Gil didn't know where to start on this job search he finally vowed to do. The City is still unfamiliar and uncomfortable for him, as is his MAC apartment. It's not as if his old apartment back home is fancier than the assigned one here, but he did like privacy and the MAC didn't have much to offer with that, he felt.

Rather than opt to use the communicator today, he takes a stroll down the streets. This city feels hotter than Lebleux does even in its longest summer days. He wonders if it's possible the weather is different in the future, but then the slightest thought of home makes him feel anxious and frustrated so he digs into his pocket for a cigarette to calm his nerves.

Too wrapped up in needing his nicotine fix, it doesn't occur to him he should be careful of whose faces he might be blowing smoke at. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She didn't like it when Nick Fury smoked, she didn't like it when people smoked in airplane bathrooms, she didn't like it on the streets where it always seemed to blow in her face. Smoke follows beauty, that was the saying.

(For some reason back home it had stopped, the past two years. It was as if everyone had quit, suddenly. Spontaneously. Natasha didn't question this, but it made her remember, just at that moment, the cling of smoke flying towards her face, that she wasn't home.]

It's against the law. [She says, her tone resigned, but even.] Outdoor smoking. They banned it in 2011.

[ The familiarity of Natasha's voice doesn't register right away. For fleeting moment, Gil thinks he's heard it, but then he's too focused on what the woman had just said to delve into personal inquiries.

He can't help the look of skepticism. He's seen plenty of people smoking in open areas in this city. He also prefers to do that then let the smoke sink into the walls and furniture of the MAC.

But he does pull the cigarette from his mouth. ]

Excuse me?

I'm not going to report you. [It's not like anyone does, unless you are in front of a cop in a park. She's really not the type to go to the authorities anyway.

She assumes he heard her perfectly well the first time, though.]

[ He looks from the cigarette to Natasha, still surprised and rather confused. Really? He can't smoke out here? But he's not interested in attracting the attention of the City's law enforcement for something so trivial.

... Even if he wants to finish his cigarette. ]

Oh... I wasn't aware of such a law.

[ And he realizes his mistake from earlier. ]

Sorry.

You're that man from the network, aren't you?

[She has a good memory for names and voices. She has to.]

[ He spends the next five seconds paying close attention to her voice, trying to place it. The instant he realizes this is the woman who he made himself look like a fool in front of on the Network, his cigarette falls.

He's never getting back his dignity in this place. ]

Um... yes. Are you that woman...?

That is what they call me.

[She arches an eyebrow, expression otherwise placid.]

[ He can't hide his own embarrassment. ]

About that day. [ He tries not to snap at strangers, women especially. ] I apologize. I... was really out of line.

Don't worry. I don't break easily.

[ She's used to men being rude— she's not used to them apologizing for it.]

[ He puts out the cigarette still on the pavement, then bends over to pick it up and flick it into the nearest trash can. He doesn't feel the need for a smoke for the time being. ]

This world is unfamiliar so... [ He trails off, not sure why he's trying to explain himself to someone who might not even care. ]

So?

[Her expression is still neutral, her voice ambiguous. She'll take any information she can get, from anyone. But changing her tone suddenly to one of warmth and honey would probably throw the man off guard. She's not a hard person— not to look at, at least.]

[ Again, he's surprised. He'll never grow accustomed to people asking him genuine questions. ]

... It's different. That's all.

[ An idle shrug. He can't really get into specifics without touching on the fact being here, being far away from home, is terrifying. ]

It is for a lot of people.

[ Not so different for her, she thinks. Enough to be unsettling, but not enough for her to be uprooted. ]

[ Gil evades her gaze now, though he nods slowly. He can't be the only one who had been ripped away from home at an inconvenient moment. There must be plenty of people almost dying to get back to their duties back home. ]

Yeah, but the others seem to adapt... well enough, I suppose.

And are you there, in their private moments, to see them adapt poorly?

[ SQUINTS. ]

... No.

[ He sighs. ]

I see your point.

It's true, though. Some people find it easier to adjust.

[a noncommittal shrug gesture]

[ He observes her carefully, wondering if she's one of those people. Every woman he's met so far has been different than the last.

Except Jessica. She's like twelve and doesn't count. ]

Maybe it's important for them to stay calm in some way.

[ A beat. ]

I'm Gilbert.

{ Natasha doesn't flinch under scrutiny. She's wearing her best coat today.]

Natasha. Nice to met you.

[ He's still growing accustomed to women walking around without a chaperone!! ]

It's nice to meet you, too, Miss... Natasha. [ He watches for her reaction then. Zatanna didn't want to be called that, maybe she's the same. ]

It's Ms. Natasha. Or Madame Natasha, if you must. I've been widowed.

[Well, there you go.]

[ How does he keep doing this to himself? ]

[ But he is sincere in his apology: ]

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed, given how customs have changed over the years.

[That catches her attention. Her head tilts— a slight, but perceptible movement.]

How long has it been, for you?

[She is older than she looks, after all.]

[ If only he had worn his coat, hat and cravat. He would have looked like a character out of a Dickens novel. ]

This is all nearly two hundred years after my time. [ Letting that sink in, mostly for himself. ] Well, if this is what the future will be like.

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i fell asleep waaay before i meant to last night

it's okay :( <3

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1/2

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