capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

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(no subject)

WHO: Cain Marko, Donna Troy.
WHERE: Around town.
WHEN: NOW NOW NOW NOW
WARNINGS: Nuttin'!
SUMMARY: THE WORST PHOTO IDEA EVER
FORMAT: TURNS ON THE CATWALK, ON THE CATWALK, YEAH

He had been tense.

Cain was initially so relaxed on finding out that Chuck wasn't here, it was as if he had attained nirvana. Just complete, utter peace, 24/7.

Then came the realization that he had nothing to do anymore.

Nothing to really pour his heart into. Or hate into. Whichever.

And no Tom around anymore meant no more robberies - he always picked the places, figured out the plans. Cain would just roll them and do the heavy lifting.

Besides which, he made plenty of money. It wasn't a concern.

He just felt so... directionless.

Another lazy day in the city, for him. He had only one person he really considered a close friend - he was really, really hesitant to trust, so he was sort of shooting himself in the foot in trying to not be so friggin' anxious.

Sighed. Well, had to kill an afternoon somehow.

He ended up barely squeezing into a bakery, buying a fresh loaf of bread, barely squeezing out, and sitting down in a park.

Feeding birds while he waited to have a thought that would kill the boredom and tension in his brain.

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The branches from the trees seemed close to breaking from the eruption of leaves that stormed across each limb, showering up into a mushroom cloud atop of each one, and to Donna, nothing could be a more welcomed sight.

She had been used to the denuded and desolate view of sickly winter, but things were different now. Vibrant. Beautiful, even.

Humming as she unpacked her camera from its pouch, she looked around excitedly for something to capture in all of its perfection. Freezing time was the most beautiful trait of photography, and she needed something different.

Rounding a couple of trees, she let her fingers slide over the bark as her head whipped around from left to right, ears delighting in the sounds of chirping provided for her.

"C'mon, a squirrel, anything." She muttered to herself, though not really in frustration -- more in hopefulness. She wasn't in the mood to photograph people today.

Well, until she was taken by an image that the Gods seemed to plant right before her!

"Ooh." She gasped quietly, peeking out from behind a tree to stare at a very VERY large man feeding a few birds.

And promptly inwardly melted, celebrated, and admired at once.

She quickly began to adjust the filters, moving as quietly as possible.

Cain was off in his head, pretty much oblivious to everything happening around him. Sunk into his own world.

He was old. Old as hell. Didn't look it, but he could be somebody's grandfather.

And what did he have to show for it now?

Not a single real success, one friend in the city, and him, sitting in the park, feeding birds.

He really needed to figure out what to do with his life.

Ripped off a few more chunks and tossed them about.

Well, at least the birds seemed happy.

She knelt down to angle the vision better, fiddling with the lighting only a quick moment, trying to use the trees above and around the scene to perfectly illuminate his hands. Which she had been fascinated by, of course. The way they curled as they held the bread loosely, the way they tensed as the birds came closer.

Closer, she thought. If there was some way she could get a bit closer without being noticed, she could get that perfect lighting. Right on his forearms, ending in a perpendicular and narrow line above his shoulders and beneath his chin.

And, you know. This is when she steps on a twig in the process, because that's how these things work. An obnoxiously loud twig, apparently.

...Slowly rolled his head to the side.

Blinked.

Why was someone taking a photo of him.

"Uh."

Paused.

"Hi?"

Well, um. Awkward. She thought quickly about hiding her camera behind her back -- but that would just look way too creepy if he'd already seen it.

So instead, she put it down in a disarming manner, trying not to blush. It wasn't that photographers shouldn't be used to this already -- it was the covert manner in which she went about it, and how she didn't want this guy to think she was trying to make his size a gimmick or something or or or --ohno.

"Hi!" She waved stiffly, before smiling nervously. "I was just -- you looked. Nice. I thought I'd take a picture, and I really should have asked, but I usually don't ..." she trailed, then bit her lip and looked off to the side.

"Um. Ask."

And all Cain said was:

"Why would you want to take a photo of me?"

He already had tons of photos, all of them in newspapers, all of them smashing buildings, heroes, and so on.

Okay, so he didn't seem pissed off. Good start! Sort of?

"Well, it was just a nice scene! And I think you look ..." She paused, giving him a scrutinizing stare, before smiling sheepishly. "Well, you look like you'd photograph well. I mean it -- I just saw you and it was like a calling!"

Okay, that ...might have sounded weird.

He shrugged.

"Well, you're the photographer. So, I guess you'd know."

'Like a calling' - that was a weird way to describe anything he did.

...Okay, he was meeting someone that didn't hate him, and he didn't hate them either.

... Might as well make the most of it.

Put his hand out.

"Cain Marko."

She hastily got up from her kneeling position, nearly stumbling forward as she reached for his hand, catching herself with a few quick and clumsy steps. She grabbed his hand -- or, well, what she could grab of it, trying not to stare at its...

Size.

"Donna Troy. You're ... -- You were Ported in, right? I don't believe we've spoken before."

"Heh. Yeah. Like I told someone else - even steroids can't get you this big. Superpowers or nothing."

"We haven't. I don't really... talk to a lot of people."

"So... are you an art student, or something?" Cain didn't know much about art, no matter how much of it he stole with Tom.

"Was an art student. I've already graduated!" She said a bit too proudly, then pulled her hand away to rest it against her side, patting against her camera in an anxious tic. She rocked back and forth on her heels -- just how was she going to ask him if she could continue photographing? Wouldn't that be weird?

Hey, it's nice to meet you and all, but could you go back to doing what you were doing and pretend I'm not here so I can continue to take pictures of you?

Really, his entire physique was not only an impressive anomaly, but incredibly appealing, she thought, for photography tricks concerning lighting and size.

"There are a lot of nice people here, y'know," she smiled as she stepped forward. "It's a shame you don't chat much with any of them!"

"It's just not something I do a lot of, talking to new people. Not good at it. Never have been."

"And... there's a lot of people I do know here. I just don't have a good history with them."

So many fucking X-men. Still no Tom. Unfair as hell.

"This place has changed my situation around - a lot - so."

Chuckled a bit.

"Aw, hell, this crap doesn't matter to you. You probably just wanna take those photos, right?"

She put her hands up defensively, waving them a bit. "Oh nonono, go on! I wouldn't have commented on it if I didn't care, Cain."

There had to be a way to make him feel less pressured. He obviously didn't mind being listened to, but there was no sense in putting him on the spot when it came to who would steer the conversation.

"You know, I feel a sense of freedom at this place -- which is strange, since we were taken here against our will. Maybe," she placed a hand, very tentatively, against his arm. "Those people don't know what they're missing out on. I bet you've got a lot of interesting things going on with you!"

Man. This girl was really reaching out. For what? Cain didn't have anything too special, or interesting, here.

"Uh, yeah. Not really. I'm superstrong thanks to a magic ruby. I bounce for a bar. I collect disco. I don't get along with the X-men."

"That's really it."

"The X-Men ..." Donna trailed, looking curious as she raised an inquiring tone in her voice. "I've heard about them. Super hero group in the City?"

And then she stopped.

"Disco, you say?"

Cain nodded. It was one of the few things he really KNEW. One of the few non-violent pleasures he had.

Disco, of all things.

"I collect it all. Vinyls, tapes, CDs - even 8-Track! It's been hell rebuilding my collection here - especially since some of the bands I collected don't exist here - but it's something nice to have, you know? Means I've got SOMETHING to spend my paycheck on. Heh."

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