the weather outside is frightful

[incywincyhero]

WHO: incywincyhero and electrouble
WHERE: A cozy little coffee shop somewhere in Manhattan.
WHEN: Thursday afternoon.
WARNINGS: Probably none, maybe a little language?
SUMMARY: It's snow-showering outside, and crowded inside.
FORMAT: WHATEVER WORKS starting with quicklog because lazy.

[ Peter has one of the last tables in the shop with an empty seat, by virtue of the newspaper spread all over it. He's nursing his fourth coffee of the day while going through the classifieds, striking out the no's and circling the yes's and maybe's.

There are far more strikeouts than circles. He sighs, going back to the beginning for yet another look-through. ]

Comments

[currentcy]

[ If there's one thing about New York Max hates, it's the weather. When he goes into get coffee he's not just seeking a warm drink, he also wants a place to kill time until the snow stops. He orders his coffee rather rudely, and then plops himself down in the one empty seat he sees.

It's after he sits down he realizes someone else is sitting at this table, too. Awkwardly, he takes a sip of his coffee. ]

[incywincyhero]

[ Peter looks up at the sound, hands already moving to clear part of the table -- and starts badly, almost sending his coffee flying. Oh crap oh crap oh hang on spider-sense not tingling oh crap gotta play this off oh crap -- He clutches at his chest, milking his overreaction for all it's worth. ]

Jeez, man, you startled me.

[currentcy]

[ Electro raises his eyebrows and shrugs, sipping his coffee carefully. He's used to reactions like that. ]

Sorry, man. [ Mutters, annoyed. ] It's the only seat left, you're going to have to deal with it.

[incywincyhero]

It's cool. You didn't, uh, do anything wrong.

[ Boy, that felt weird to say. He can't politely leave right now, and getting out of this with his skin depends on being polite, so instead he grabs a napkin and starts dabbing at the coffee droplets scattered over his paper. One large blotch has obliterated two of his possibles, and he frowns in annoyance. ]

Great, just what I needed.

[currentcy]

[ He leans over the table, sipping his drink and peering nosily at Peter's paper. ]

Look, you don't have to get bitchy about it. There's still the whole rest of your dumb paper. [ He taps his finger on the clean part of the page. ]

[incywincyhero]

[ He sighs, dropping head into cupped hand. ] It's not you. [ Lies! ] I've had a rough couple of days. Just lost my job, either have too much experience or not enough ... you know how it is.

[ Why did he just tell him that? ]

[currentcy]

Not really. I haven't worked in about a decade.

[ He shrugs his shoulders, with a slight sneer. ]

What's "too much experience" anyway? That sounds like bullshit.

[incywincyhero]

[ His face suggests he agrees with Max, though he wouldn't ... use quite the same terminology. Aunt May didn't raise her kid to swear! ]

It means people won't hire you for a position because they think you'll use your skills to move on to a better job as soon as you find one. Not that they're ... entirely wrong there.

[ Ruefully: ]

Sometimes I can understand why you do what you do, y'know?

[ ... Crap. ]

[currentcy]

[ Had Electro eyebrows he would be raising them right now, but his head is still fairly hairless. So he just raises his eyebrow ridge, mouth cocked in a crooked sneer. ]

My reputation precedes me, huh? [ Sips his coffee, carefully. ] Do I know you?

[incywincyhero]

[ His eyes flick down to the table, and then away -- he's nervous, sure, but also checking the placement of people and furniture and gauging distance to the visible exits. Time to go at this carefully, and not just babble. ]

We've, uh ... never met face to face. But I'm guessing we're from the same universe, or something like it. Max Dillon, right? Electro.

[ He sips at his own coffee, projecting innocence and guilelessness as hard as he can. ]

[currentcy]

Yeah, that's me. Who're you? I know I'm pretty famous, but I still like to put a name to the groupie.

[ Still sneering, what a jackass. ]

[incywincyhero]

Peter Parker. And thanks, but I don't swing that way. [ He takes another sip, deadpan. ]

[currentcy]

Of course you don't.

[ Glares at. ]

Was a figure of speech. [ A minor pause: ] Why's that name sound familiar?

[incywincyhero]

Um ... I just have one of those names. Like John Smith, except alliterative.

[currentcy]

I coulda sworn I heard it somewhere recently. Back home, I mean. [ He frowns, not sure what he remembers it from. After a moment, he shrugs his shoulders. ]

Whatever.

[incywincyhero]

[ Barest pause. This could end badly. ] I used to be a freelancer for the Daily Bugle, a few years back. You might've seen a photo with my credit on it.

[currentcy]

Maybe it's that. [ He's thinking of the forged photo scandal, but the specifics just aren't clicking. He shakes his head. ] Feels like it was more recent. The Daily Bugle ain't been that for a while, even before the building collapsed.

[incywincyhero]

[ Okay, so Max linking him to the forgery debacle wouldn't be as bad as, "You're Spider-Man's photographer!" ZAP! But that doesn't mean Peter particularly wants to relive the incident with one of his worst enemies. ]

Well, uh, I did stay on at the newly-christened DB for a while before I got fed up with the new management. My more recent stuff's been a bit more ... low-key.

[ Meaning nonexistent. Change of subject time! ]

Ssssssooo what brings you to a place like this? I mean, can't your powers just, y'know -- [ ambiguous hand gesture ] -- keep you warm and cozy?

[currentcy]

Sure, yeah. But I still don't like the cold. The air gets moist. Fucks me up real bad, I hate it. [ He scowls. ]

[incywincyhero]

Oh. That makes sense, I guess. [ He should have thought of that. ]

This just ... doesn't, y'know, seem like your kinda joint.

[currentcy]

What's that supposed to mean? [ Gives him a skeptical look. ] What's my kind of joint, a bank?

[incywincyhero]

[ Holding up his hands. ] Whoa man, no offense! I just meant that this place is kinda...

[ He looks around at all the packs of students, the Wall-Streeters, the young mothers (or more likely nannies). ]

... Yuppie-ish. Not where I'd expect to find a, er, notorious personage like yourself.

sorry for the delay! this got lost in my inbox. ;;

[currentcy]

Hey, coffee's coffee. I don't need to be part of no country club to sit here, do I?

[incywincyhero]

[ Smirking a little. He's not dropping his guard, exactly, but banter is something he's comfortable with. ]

I thought you'd be flattered not to be a yuppie.

[currentcy]

Hey, I know I'm not a yuppie.

[ Said with pride, thank you very much. ]