Theives and Dancers {Max}

[AISHA]

The morning was probably her least favorite time of the day. It’s where she woke up out of her dreams, and realized she was still living n a tent, on a hard and dirty ground, and that she was still hungry. She sat up with a yawn, and rubbed her eyes, glancing around. It was a decent sized tent, big enough for two, so she has space to keep all her belongings. Though it wasn’t much. A duffel bag with all of her clothes. A separate bag with all the cash she had, and various odds and ends. She rummaged through the bag holding her clothes.

She sat up, getting dressed was always difficult. She yanked the old t-shirt off, and tugged on a crop top, resembling something of a sports bra. Then laid back to pull on the sweatpants. She tied the string tight on her hips, and rolled up the cuffs around her knees. Then her only pair of shoes, old, tatty converse she had relieved from a shoe store. She had them for years, and now they were held in place by duct tape, and sheer will power. Her messy, wild hair wall pulled into a tight bun at the base of her neck, and she shuffled through her bag, finding bobby pins she had “purchased” the previous day.

And then she was ready. She tossed her bag with the small amount of money outside of the tent, and crawled out after it. She slung the duffel bag onto her shoulder, and grabbed the boombox from the corner of her tend, and started on her walk out of the trees. IT was a hidden path, weaving through the trees for twenty minutes, until she came onto the concrete path. She’d follow, look for the crowds, and then stop. Turn on the music, and begin.

Hip hop, belly dancing, and even, when the mood strikes her, she’ll dance something more traditional. The dance was lost on them, the dance of her Romani people, flowing skirts, with music played by their people. Today, was a hip-hop sort of day. She opened her bag, and set it nearby, and began to perform. A few people paused, when they walked by, and she only smiled.

Her tanned skin shimmering with sweat. She wasn’t casually dancing, she was dancing to survive. Her flat stomach rippled, her hips twisted, as though they were separated from her own body. This caused a few more people to watch, belly dancing had always been something intriguing. But due to her lack of “costume”, people grew bored and walked away.

Dirty, angry thoughts flooded her mind. Who did these people think they were? A bed to sleep in at night, clean clothes every day. A shower to wash the dirt from their skin, and they just looked at her like she was something amusing. This was work, this was living. This was survival.

Outfit:Clickers.

[MAXIMUS PETULENGRO]

Max Petulengro was the self proclaimed King of Central Park. New York was a bit big, you see, and many wanted to be it's King. And when one did receive that esteemed title, they never kept it long, and thus Max stayed away from that one. But Central Park, oh Central Park was his domain. He knew every regular here, that set up shop. Every food vendor, every ripped DvD's sales man, every Three Card Monte and Dice den it offered. Every mime, every magician, every fucking musician. So, after getting some winnings at his dice rig, lucky him for hiving loaded dice, he found himself drawn to a sudden tempo of hip hop.

After aways, he found the source. A pretty thing, whose talent did not make up for her showman ship. Tragic really. She had the looks of a regular here in Central Park, but it was not one that Max could place. She was new, and therefore interesting. And if Max loved anything, it was something interesting. "Prometheus?" Max said, prompting the little ferret to emerge from one of his many pockets. "I think we should go introduce ourselves, don't you. It would be most rude if we did not." Smiling at the critter, who perched itself on his shoulder, Max walked over to the girl cheerily.

She did not seem in the mood for a handshake, however, so Max did not bother with introductions. No, not quite yet. He flopped his fedora down in front of her, top side down, and perched himself on the seat of the bench behind her. Flashing her a grin, Max pulled out his drum sticks, spinning them around his fingers dexterously. Poking her boombox off, he began tatting the bench, playing the tune to Iko Iko. Looking back up to her, he smiled, nodding his head with some urgency. "This is where you dance, Sweets." The ferret dived off from Max's shoulder, rounding people like a sheepdog does sheep, occasionally darting across the beauties feet in excitement.

[AISHA]

For a hot second—Aisha hesitated. What the hell…this guy was getting in on her act. And you just didn’t do that. It meant splitting profits, and actually having to socialize. Then the other person would think you were friends, and try to get in on every act you did.

Dark brows furrowed over her pale eyes, not returning his smile what so ever. And he even shut off her boom box. Her chest swelled as she drew in a breath to tell him off—when he started drumming. It was almost primitive. Hip hop was fine, and drew people in. But this beat he was pounding out reminded her of a long time ago. Her expression softened, but she didn’t smile at him.

Aisha stepped on the back of her shoes, pulling them off her feet and pushed them close to her duffel bag. So help her God, if anyone touched her best pair of shoes. She rose on the balls of her feet quickly, stomping out the beat. She wasn’t on cement anymore—she was dancing on a cloud. Twisting, stomping, and swinging to the beat. And that’s when she smiled.

She liked whatever this random guy was playing; there was something much more passionate about real, live music. Not some mechanical sounding crap from a boom box. Her hands grabbed, and twisted the air around her, moving with as much dexterity that her feet did. Aisha even managed some fancy foot work, and as she danced past, used her toes to flip Random Guy’s hat back over. If he wanted money for his drumming, he’d do it on his own. He wasn’t going to get in on her sweat and aching feet.

However, one this she did like about the whole act was the cute little rodent darting about. People were drawn to the excited creature, and to the real sounds of the park bench being tat-ratta-tat-tatted. Aisha was careful to watch the little fetter, not taking the wrong step, and when he did move across her feet; Aisha only focused harder, making her steps lighter, never putting her full weight on her toes. She used momentum to send her spinning and twirling.[/color]

[MAXIMUS PETULENGRO]

It seemed she had to accept what was happening, but when she did, it came together like magic. Prometheus brought the crowds in by being a cute little son of a bitch, the sound of something different drew them in closer, and finally they stayed for the beautiful creature shifting about like an ethereal being. It wasn't like a person dancing, no, it was like sunlight peering through a canopy, or shadows dancing against a white wall. Beautiful, simple.

A crowd had formed, smiling as they did, laughing, having a good time. Children loved Prometheus, as he did have a way with them. And those children were accompanied by there parents. And parents meant money. Max's dark eyes caught her flip his hat, much to his amusement. So that's how it was, was it? No matter, Max always got his dues one way or another. Though a bit of courtesy for saving her from drowning would have been nice. Ah well, people were people, were people, weren't they?

The song ended, and the crowd clapped. Max gave a theatrical bow, his eyebrows raising to prompt the mystery girl to do they same. Showmenship and all that. Prometheus rose to his back feet, also bowing along with them. Putting the dum stiks back in one of the many pockets he had, Max addressed the crowd. "Thank you, thank you. And another round for the lovely Amara, Princess of Gypsies." True, he honestly had no idea about this girls heritage. It was honestly a lucky guess. But the crowd followed suit, amused by the rouse. It was a child who came up first.

"She's a Princess?"

"Correct Miss." Max said, twiddling his drumsticks in his fingers.

"Are you her Prince then?"

Max laughed at this, shaking his head. "If only I could be so lucky. No Miss, I am just a faithful servant to her majesty. It's my job to carry the royal jewels." Max held up his finger before the girl could inquire, and revealed his hands to the crowd, whistling a low whistle. What they didn't see was Prometheus climb up his pant leg, urged by the whistle, and then moving up to his sleeve. Altogether an uncomfortable experience, but worth it in the end. The ferret dropped a necklace, stolen days ago, with pretty little emeralds on it, down Max's sleeve. Clapping his hands together, he held the chain by his thumbs and pointers, revealing it to the crowd. They clapped, tossing money down at the pairs feet. Voila, magic.

Grinning widely at Amara, the Gypsy Princess, he gave a low bow, before coming up behind her. "Your Majesty, if I may." Without waiting for her to respond, he clasped the necklace to her neck, which was quite flattering on her really. Prometheus climbed out of his sleeve, and up his arm, sitting back on his masters shoulder. "There, isn't she lovely." The crowd gave a final clap, before dispersing, leaving the two alone. "It looks rather good on you, Princess. I think you should keep it. Call it my second gift for the day." Max winked at her, before pulling a tangerine out of his pocket, and he started to walk away.

[AISHA]

There was something about this guy. Amara? Really? Gypsy—she hated that term. It wasn’t flattering; she’d played up the part, because that’s what people assumed. The proper term was Roma, but no one ever really knew that. It’d be like calling someone of Asian decent a chink, or an Italian a dago. Either way, people were drawn to it, and their Hollywood idea of what the stereotype was.

When he bowed, she crossed her ankles and bowed also. Then he went from charming to utterly cheesy. She watched the necklace drop, and scrutinized it. She had a set of extremely important jewelry that she kept in her bag. Stolen, no. But gifts from her people, her last memories of the people that had been her family. Too important to leave behind in a tent where anyone could take them. But that necklace wasn’t hers.

She exposed her neck, for the sake of the show, allowing him to put the necklace on her. Aisha smiled at the crowd, and waved at a few until they all parted. She frowned, watching him walk away, and she leaned down to gather the change, and bills that were left behind. Quickly, she stuffed her feet into her shoes, and checked the zipper on the bag. Good, no tampering. She slung the duffel over her shoulder, and jogged to catch up with Mystery Man.

Aisha stepped in his way, the cash in her hands. She narrowed her blue eyes, and pointed a finger at him. A few loose curls stuck to her cheek and forehead with sweat, and her bun had come mostly loose. Snaking curls framing her head, and sticking to her neck. “You did something, or you're planning something. No one just does that, or gives this,” She pointed at her throat where the necklace lay, “And just, doot-doot-doot, walks away.” She stepped up to him, straightening her spine. Still giving him a suspicious look. She unfolded the bills in her hands, counting through them, before splitting it. Of course he wasn’t going to get most, nor was he going to get half. Get technical, it was a 60/40 split. She handed him the 40% of what lay in her hands, before folding up her bit of the cash.

Without tearing her eyes from his face, she tucked it into the front of her bra. Pockets, or bags, that sneaky little ferret could grab it, or a simple brush of the hand would result in an empty pocket. Aisha was a dancer, but she was also a thief. She knew the tricks, and she wasn’t going to fall for them. “Aisha.” She held her hand out, still eyeing him, “Gypsy orphan.” She sort of threw that last bit in there, not with a smile. Almost like it left a bad taste on her tongue, just to see if he’d react to her distaste of the word Gypsy.[/size]

[MAXIMUS PETULENGRO]

Whistling cheerfully, his smile widened as he heard her race to catch up with him, though he feigned surprise. Biting into his tangerine, skin and all, he raised his eyebrow. She cut him off, and Max stopped accordingly. “You did something, or you're planning something. No one just does that, or gives this, and just, doot-doot-doot, walks away.”

He laughed a little, taking another bite of his tangerine. Swallowing the bites of orange, he tore a piece of the peel for his trusty sidekick, who nibbled it happily. "Well, aren't we jaded. What's wrong, don't you like it?" He watched her with some amusement, as she divided up the money, something he was sure she had not been planning to do when she first spotted him. He took it, shrugging as if it were no big deal, and put it in one of his many pockets. "Well, thank you. I guess I can just ace that super awful thing I had been planning, huh?" Laughing, he took another bite of his fruit, peeling another bit for Prometheus when she stuck out her hand.

“Aisha. Gypsy orphan.” He stared at her hand suspiciously for a moment, knowing her type. Not the Nomads, no that wasn't what he was worried about. Max didn't know any to be aware of, after all. Well, at least not til now. No, he knew a pick pocket. They weren't easy to spot, unless you knew what to look for. The dartiness, the suspicious nature, the clever fingers. Oh yes, he knew that type.

Rolling up his sleeve, he put his hand out after wiping it on his jacket (in case of tangerine juice), grasping hers tightly. No way was he getting pocketed, no Sir. But he did note her aversion to the term Gypsy, so he raised his eyebrow inquiringly. "I thought the term was Roma?" He shrugged, as it was none of his business, smirking a little at her. "Name's Max. All around nice guy." Prometheus, being a clever little shit, covered his face with his claw, as if disbelieving. "Everyone's a critic. Fine... Max, Jack of all trades. That suit your fancy, Prometheus?" The little ferret seemed to reply by climbing down Max's arm, and sniffing Aisha's hand curiously.

[AISHA]

He was eating the skin of the orange. Tangerine. Whatever. He was…that was gross. Food was hard to come by, but she wasn’t even that desperate to eat the skin. Absently she touched the necklace when he mentioned it. She wasn’t about to get mushy, but it was rather nice. Emeralds were her favorites; bright and vivid and always seemed warm.

Aisha didn’t take offense to the way he looked at her hand; she would have done the same thing. With a well executed handshake she could make off with a bracelet, or a ring. He gripped her hand tightly; so he knew, at least she thought he did. When men shook her hand, they were always light with her as though she would break. And then bam. They looked for the time, and didn’t realize that their watch had just bought Aisha a few days stay in a comfy hotel bed and a hot shower.

For once, she smiled. Roma. So he knew the term, and even smirked about it. Fair, fair. “It is.” She noted. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad, but Aisha knew better than to let her guard down around anyone. When every person, and every word and every touch was vital, guards were never to be let down. Her attention was quickly drawn to the ferret…who covered his face. And that earned a raise of her dark brows and a short laugh. “Hello there.” She changed her tone to softer, a little more gentle. She relaxed her hand when the ferret came in closer.

“You’ve got a clever little companion here, Max.” She glanced up at him, before looking back down to the ferret, carefully extending her fingers in an attempt to pet his head. “But something tells me you are the brains behind the operation, aren’t you little guy?” She asked Prometheus. Her entire expression had softened and relaxed.

She loved animals, well. Ones with personalities, and that seemed to have a little more brain power, rather than just plain old instinct. “Thank you for your help. I’m a pretty good dancer, but it seems like you pulled in most of the crowd. And your pet there is pretty good with beats.” Her attention turned to Max again, “So what are you, then? Random do-gooder that just happens to pass out expensive looking jewelry to even more random street performers?”

[MAXIMUS PETULENGRO]

“It is.” She responded, perhaps a little impressed. Max shrugged, as if unfazed, though his smile did grow a bit. Prometheus lapped up the attention like a dehydrated puppy dog at a watering hole. “Hello there.” Aisha greeted, sticking her fingers out cautiously. Prometheus pushed his head into the fingers, slinking his body across them happily. There was certainly something charming about him, that was for sure. Lucky for Max, he didn't get that damn puppy. “You’ve got a clever little companion here, Max.”

"He has his moments." Max grinned proudly. In truth, Prometheus was the only creature on God's green earth Max really trusted. Some might find it sad, that ones best friend was a rodent, but said rodent would never rob you, never steal a girlfriend, or boyfriend for that matter. They'd never lie to you, they'd never cheat you.

Prometheus was on cloud nine, receiving the attention from Aisha. “But something tells me you are the brains behind the operation, aren’t you little guy?” It made him happy, deep down in his gut, that she talked to Prometheus... well, how Max himself did. Not that baby voice shit kids did, or directed to Max like adults did. She was alright. “Thank you for your help. I’m a pretty good dancer, but it seems like you pulled in most of the crowd. And your pet there is pretty good with beats.” Playing bashful, Prometheus covered his eyes, and Max rolled his.

"Alright, Promie, off you get, before you fall in love or something." Chittering as a ferret would do, Prometheus pressed his nose to Aisha's hand before hopping into Max's trench coat pocket. Laughing indulgently, Max peeled off a large piece of peel for the little guy, before Aisha called his attention again.

“So what are you, then? Random do-gooder that just happens to pass out expensive looking jewelry to even more random street performers?” Again with the suspicion. Max laughed, heading on his way again, though continuing the conversation as he went.

"Am I so transparent, Blue?" He chuckled, taking another bite of the tangerine, a little sad that it was almost gone. He wiped the juice from his chin, raising his eyebrow at her. "Do I detect some suspicion on my goods, Miss? Because I can assure you, that necklace is not only expensive looking, it's expensive." He was very proud of this, thinking of the little old lady he knicked it from. Rude thing, with a monstrous fur coat, and an equally monstrous dog. "It'd fetch you about a good four hundred simoleans, if you so wished to pawn it. Which you are welcome to, by the by, like I said, it's yours." He noticed he hadn't really answered her question. Best not to piss of the girl, as she seemed to have a bit of bite to her. I like having friends, and I treat them well, is that so wrong? I'm good at what I do, and I make more than I need. So, call me noble or heroic if you will-" He laughed, showing her he was joking. He had a big head, but it wasn't quite that big. "-But I like to give a leg up to my fellow underworlder. Such as yourself, Blue."

[AISHA]

Aisha was absolutely delighted by the little creature. Her shoulders relaxed when Prometheus pushed into her hands, and she petted him carefully, letting her nails get under his fur gently. And truth be told—Aisha almost died when Prometheus covered his eyes at her compliment. She liked to be strong, and liked to look it too, but she was quickly getting wrapped around the little ferret’s tiny fingers.

“Bye bye.” She murmured when she felt the little nose into her hand, and she straightened up when he dove into Max’s pocket. Aisha rolled her shoulders back, stretching a bit. Blue? Why the hell did he call her blue? The first time she let it go; trying to figure out why he called her that. “I’m always suspicious. It’s the way of life.” She touched the necklace. Four hundred smackaroos. The number almost dazed her. That could be a week in a dinky hotel—but it’d be a warm bed and a shower. Food, maybe she could even actually buy clothes.

Her fingers idly tapped the necklace, the jewels seeming much heavier on her throat now that the price tag had been set. “No, I suppose not. Though, if you’re an ‘underworlder’ like me, and you make more than you need…why are you even here anyway?” She asked, her tone taking one of suspicion. No one enjoyed being homeless. Everyone took warm beds, and showers, and clean clothes for granted. And here was this guy, Max, saying he made more than he needed…and yet he hinted the fact that he was just out of home as much as she was. Though…he looked a little more put together. Aisha’s hair looked a tad oily, there was a little bit of dirt under her nails, and she looked just a little bit dirty. “And why the hell do you keep calling me ‘Blue’?” She narrowed her, hermherm, blue…eyes, and glanced down at herself. Her sports-bra top was white…the pants were black…her shoes were grey.

There was no blue. Awaiting his answer, she tugged a rubber band from around her wrist, and pushed her hair back into a bun, bobby-pins and all, and secured it at the back of her head.

[MAXIMUS PETULENGRO]

She seemed a little startled by the price tag associated with her necklace, and he mentally tried to decide if she'd keep it or not. Logic said probably not. It wasn't as though many would, when they could have a cheap, motel, bed for a week. It made the bed bite's with it, to be warm and relatively safe. “I’m always suspicious. It’s the way of life.”

Max nodded, understanding this. Sure, Max liked people, ,he seemed lax and laid back. But he never really let down his guard. Even now, he watched the for police, for someone to cry out 'thief', and since he waited, he was always prepared to run for it. And no one could hide in New York City like Max. "And never forget it, Blue. Everyone's fucked, it's up to us to decide if we're the fucked or the fuck-ey, yeah?"

He liked her, he decided. She was funny. Certainly fearless, a bit uncouth. “No, I suppose not. Though, if you’re an ‘underworlder’ like me, and you make more than you need…why are you even here anyway?” Observant, tough, ready to ask why. It was good, those were necessary for survival. And Max always respected a survivor.

He wiggled his finger in a come-hither way, his voice becoming low, as if telling her a secret. "It's my home." A simple answer, for a complicated question. The best sort. Grinning, he wandered on forward to a hot dog stand, holding up three fingers, though he continued to talk to Aisha. "What else would I do, what else would you do, given the chance? New York is our fucking kingdom, and we are all Kings and Queens."

"Hey your majesty? Nine bucks."

Max paid the man, passing a frankfurter to his current walking companion, though he hadn't asked her if she was hungry. But she probably was. They were always hunger, the Underworlders. He rather liked tha phrasing. Underworlders. He started dressing his dog, continuing the conversation. "I couldn't do the suit and nine to five, not to save my life. And I rather like to think I'm a head of the curve, though I'm probably not. For every four or five nights I sleep on a picnic table or in a tree, it makes that one night in a bed a thousand times more perfect than those on the outside." He motioned to various pedestrians, his finger landing on the hot dog man, before patting him on the back, slipping his wallet as he drew back. To be fair, three dollars for one hot dog was like a robbery in itself. So, yeah, he started it. Casually continuing walking, her talked through his mouthful of hotdog. "The same could be said for any experience. After a few hungry nights, how amazing does one of these disgusting things taste? After a week without a shower, doesn't a luke warm rinse off at a local YMCA feel fantastic? IT's all about the ride, Blue, all about the experience."

“And why the hell do you keep calling me ‘Blue’?” Truth be told, Max didn't like using peoples first names. If he made up an alias, when they vanished, it was almost like they were never real in the first place.

But that was all really a mouthful, figuratively, so he swallowed his literal mouthful, and grinned at her. She had to be aware her eyes were a startling blue. "Cause they're the color-" He smirked, deciding not to go for the obvious, but keep it honest. Well, honest enough. "Of your soul." With that, he laughed, tearing off a piece of the extra hot dog and dropping it in Prometheus's pocket, continuing on his way.

[AISHA]

The name 'Blue' was starting to get on her nerves, as well as...well...she sort of, kind of liked it. She was always 'That Girl' 'Gypsy' 'Theif' 'Prositute' and so, so many others. Blue didn't make her feel alienated, ashamed or angry. A tad annoyed, but that was all.

"I'm definitely not the fucked." She retorted, putting her arms behind her head for a moment, stretching them. "Most of these people around us will go through divorces, be killed, and have enemies. I'm anonoymus. When the technology all dies, and the world fails, we'll be the only ones that know how to survive without the latest gadget." Her tone was almost angry. True enough, she was an angry young woman. And it was hard to let go, when every day of her life just reminded her of all the trouble that she had faced. But she was still here, and she was still alive. If just barely.

When he revealed he lived here, she understood. "Well, it's nice to have a neighbor that's not in a uniform." She shrugged her shoulders, following him to the hot dog stand. She side-stepped, looking at the stand from the corner of her eyes. It'd be hard to steal one. They were in that boiling water, but it could be done if he were distracted enough. But Max actually bought one off of him. She took the hot dog incrediously; and it was warm too. Her mouth watered, and she bit right into it without ketchup, mustard or anything else. She closed her eyes and sighed, her shoulders relaxed. "Oh my god." She muttered with her mouth full, putting her fingers to her lips for a moment, swallowing it. "It's been a really long time since I had one of these."

She took another, smaller bite, savoring the warmth, the flavor. She listened to him, nibbling on the hot dog dantily, to make it last longer. She listened to him explain, and smiled as she watched him pat the hot dog vendor on the back. Claaaaasic. "I completely get you. But I'd really sort of like to have a nice bed every night, and a shower every morning. I've gotten use to being dirty, but..." she shrugged her shoulders, taking another bite of the hotdog while he answered her question about her new nickname.

Her eyes were blue, that was right. "Color of my soul," She snorted, "You could just say they were the color of my eyes. Really, makes you see less cheesy." Her brows raised, turning her attention back to her food. "And I don't see my reflection much, so I sometimes forget what I look like." She explained, swallowing down a bit. "Thanks for the hotdog." She mumbled. Aisha wasn't use to saying thanks to anyone...or actually meaning it.

"If you don't mind my asking, like...how did you actually get out here? I mean, why?"[/size]

[MAXIMUS PETULENGRO]

"I'm definitely not the fucked. Most of these people around us will go through divorces, be killed, and have enemies. I'm anonymous. When the technology all dies, and the world fails, we'll be the only ones that know how to survive without the latest gadget." She had a lot of anger, this one. Max merely nodded, watching her with interest. He had let go of his anger a while ago, though it had been present at one time. In his youth, when Leo first left. He was alone, and scared, and abandoned. He wondered if that's what happened to this one.

"Oh my god. It's been a really long time since I had one of these." She ate dainty like, which was interesting. Most street kids would scarf a meal down so fast they'd vomit. Max could pace himself, but even he ate a little fast. He wondered if she saw him take the wallet. He tried to read her face, but found it typically discernible. "I completely get you. But I'd really sort of like to have a nice bed every night, and a shower every morning. I've gotten use to being dirty, but..." He imagined it would be more important for a girl, than a boy. He never had to fiddle with make up or shaving or anything like that. His maintenance more or less consisted of him going into a gas station rest room every other day and dunking his head in the sink, washing his hair with hand soap. Easy, convenient, free. He liked those words.

She seemed to dislike his appraisal of her soul, snorting at him. "Color of my soul, You could just say they were the color of my eyes. Really, makes you see less cheesy. And I don't see my reflection much, so I sometimes forget what I look like. Thanks for the hotdog."

"Maybe I'm just cheesy, cause I meant it. But your welcome for the hotdog, all the same." He grinned at her, as Prometheus leaped out of his pocket, darting away. Max watched his little friend vanish in the crowd, and he wondered where he was off too.

Aisha-Blue seemed to have some words that she wanted to say. After a moment of silence, she finally let it out. "If you don't mind my asking, like...how did you actually get out here? I mean, why?"

Though he seemed to be craning his next, trying to spot Prometheus, he considered her question. "Eh, it's complicated, sort of a depressing story. You don't want to hear about all that. Where did that little shit go?" He asked, looking at the crowd. Prometheus never left just because, what was he after. A little concerned, Max lifted his fingers to his mouth, whistling loudly.

[ALEXANDER FORTESCUE]

So Alex definitely hadn't come back here just to see if he could find Max again.

No way. That was stupid. Ha! No. Alexander Jehan Fortescue did not seek out people; people sought out him. He didn't have to actively LOOK for parties, because if there was something he should know about, he would find out. He didn't just go looking for some guy he'd met a few days ago, nevermind if that guy was clever and funny and...totally dreamy...

He was losing his focus here. What was he supposed to be thinking about, again? Oh, right. He was, uh. Here to take pictures. For that one art project. Yeah.

Alex wasn't too much the artsy type, but, even though he had openly denounced the project to the rest of his art class, it seemed like a sort of cool idea. A chronicle of life in photographs? The more philosophical, hidden piece of Alex had always been curious about whether or not it was possible to record life genuinely, and interpreted the project as almost a challenge set before him. He'd ace this art project if it killed him. Nobody had to know.

Of course, the project wasn't due for two weeks, and there were no specifications about where the photos had to be taken, so technically Alex didn't have to be in Central Park today...

But what the hell, right? Why not? A-anyway, he definitely was just there to take pictures, not to look for Max. He probably wouldn't even be there again, anyway. Alex most likely wouldn't find him. And that was okay. No big deal. Just because they'd had a good time and Max had...well...kind of dazzled him...th-that didn't mean anything! He was Alex Fortescue, he didn't get attached to people!

The expensive Nikon he'd borrowed from the art teacher hung around his neck, and with his military-esque gray jacket, jeans, and converse, he was fairly comfortable in the cool morning weather of autumn. As he walked, he scrutinized the scenery and the passing people, trying to ignore the way his heart leaped every time he saw someone that could have been Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome. None of them were, of course, but that didn't stop Alex from unwillingly getting excited every time.

He had been walking for a little while when he saw a crowd dispersing, probably after an impressive street performance. As he maneuvered his way through the departing audience, he caught a quick glimpse of what might have been a ferret...a very familiar ferret. Stifling the connection he immediately made between familiar ferrets and certain street musicians, Alex paused, letting the crowd flow around him like water around a rock as he scanned his surroundings. Oh, over there! A pair of dark-haired young people by a hot dog stand; they looked rag-tag enough to have been the performers. Feeling his full lips quirk into a smile, he raised the camera, turned it on, and zoomed in on the couple...

...only to realize that one of the two was Mr. Guess Who Had To Actually Show Up Just To Fuck With Him. Against his better judgment, Alex felt his heart begin to hammer against his ribcage in anticipation.

The other was some pretty, but clearly homeless girl Alex had never seen before, and in an instant, he felt a surge of emotion wash over him as he lowered the camera. Bitch, he thought immediately, though he had absolutely no reason to make such a comment; it wasn't like she was doing anything particularly bitch. Something inside Alex just became so pissed off seeing her, so inexplicably...jealous, that it was the first conclusion he reached.

After the initial elation of realizing Max was there, followed by the sweep of negative emotions upon realizing how lovely his companion was and how deep Max seemed to be in conversation with her, Alex felt himself overcome with a sort of embarrassment. He didn't belong here. He wasn't meant to intrude on this. He'd just met Max yesterday, it wasn't like he had control over who he met with or...why. They could just be friends...yeah...

...just friends...

...screw that, that girl was too..."too" for them to just be friends.

Well, that was fine! That was perfectly fine. It wasn't like Alex cared. He had plenty of better things to do, and plenty of other people he could talk to, and...he should just leave. He should get out of here and leave Max to whatever it was he was doing...eating hot dogs with some girl or whatever.

But, after attempting to walk away a few times, the young Frenchman found that he couldn't quite bring himself to leave, not when the opportunity to speak with Max again was so close to him. With a dejected sigh, he sunk onto a bench near the hot dog stand and tried to pretend he was messing with his camera instead of watching Max out of his periph.

[AISHA]

“It was cheesy, but nice nevertheless.” She admitted with a shrug, taking another bite of the hotdog, and staring as Prometheus jumped out and darted away. Momentarily, Aisha watched the little critter, unsure of this was his normal behavior. “If someone that live on the streets has a happy tale, then they don’t exactly belong out here, now do they?” Aisha questioned, her head lifting up when Max whistled.

Apparently, the little ferret running off hadn’t been normal behavior, and seemed to worry Max. She chewed carefully, more alert now. Max seemed to be worry-free, and after his display earlier during the little dance, he seemed to be pretty playful. So Promie running off seemed to cause concern, she didn’t take it lightly. Aisha finished off her hotdog, and bunched up the paper, and tossed it into a nearby trashcan.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up just then, and she stopped walking. Something wasn’t right. There was that strange itch that set between her shoulders, and caused her muscles to tense. She was being watched—she was use to being looked at. For a homeless girl, she was pretty—but this was strange. This wasn’t a good feeling of being watched.

Aisha straightened her sports bra top, making sure the straps were secure on her shoulders. She then tied her sweatpants extra tight around her hips. “I’ll look and see if I can find him from a tree.” She looked at Max for a moment, before sliding her duffelbag off her shoulder, looking at him with her piercing blue eyes. “All that’s in my bag is old Roma jewelry given to me by my family when I was a kid, as well as some clothes and a map. If you run off with it, I will find you, and I will leave Promie with your socks as the only place to hide in.” Aisha warned, before passing her bag to her new companion.

Aisha used a little momentum with a short run to launch herself at the tree. Her shoes scraping along the bark as she propelled herself up the tree, her fingers grabbing at the branches as she hoisted herself up. Steadying herself on a low branch, Aisha looked around for that excited little dot of white fur.

Over there… Whispered a voice that sounded sort of…French? Aisha’s brows furrowed, the voice sounding garbled, and not quite there. The camera, sister…the camera…

Aisha shook her head, and rubbed the bridge of her nose. The voice went quiet, gone, as fast as it had came. Maybe that hotdog came a little too late, or perhaps it wasn’t any good, and she was now hallucinating. She took a breath, and focused, seeing something small and white darting along, “I think I see him, Max!” Aisha called out, pointing back towards the hotdog stand where a boy with a camera sat.

[MAXIMUS PETULENGRO]

“It was cheesy, but nice nevertheless." Max wanted to chuckle at her, and her too-cool-for-school routine. But he didn't, perhaps to be polite. "If someone that live on the streets has a happy tale, then they don’t exactly belong out here, now do they?” There was some truth to that, but he enjoyed the streets. Aisha-Blue seemed to have a grudge against them, but for reals, girl had to lighten up. Perhaps he would tell her that, when Prometheus was back to him, safe.

Prometheus was the closest thing to family Max had ever possessed, besides Leo. But Leo was gone now, leaving nothing but some clever words of advice and a two faced coin to his little protege. And so, Max was very protective of the little guy. New York was a dangerous place, after all, and Prometheus was almost never out of Max's sight. Still, he was not expecting a duffel bag to be thrusted into his grasp. He casted a doubtful eye to Aisha, wondering what she was playing at. “I’ll look and see if I can find him from a tree. All that’s in my bag is old Roma jewelry given to me by my family when I was a kid, as well as some clothes and a map. If you run off with it, I will find you, and I will leave Promie with your socks as the only place to hide in.” Usually, he would have made a crack or something. And he did, in fact, consider bolting with the bag. Roma jewelry, that could catch a price, especially if he sold it with some sort of gimmick.

But he didn't. Perhaps it was appreciation for her concern on behalf of Prometheus. Perhaps it was because he found her amusing, and would perhaps like to continue a friendship of sorts. Perhaps it was empathizing some treasures are worth far more to one person, than they would be to anyone else in all the world. Max decided not to dwell on why for too long, and watched her dart off to a tree.

Strange girl.

Waiting was not really something Max was good at. Lack of practice, mostly. He was self sufficient after all. Therefore he was never just left with his dick swinging in the wind. Bouncing a little, on the balls of his feet, Max waited, hearing Aisha before he actually saw her. “I think I see him, Max!” He didn't like his name being shouted like that, but he was quite pleased that she saw Promie.

He'd skin that little weasel, scaring him like this. What was he playing at? Did he see some sort of treasure or something? Max's dark eyes trailed, before they found a head of golden curls sitting on one of the benches. Well, hello. He gave Aisha a whistle in the affirmative, before walking casually up to Alex.

Indeed, Prometheus was there, sitting in Nature Boy's lap (Nature Boy being Alex's theme song in Max's constantly musing mind), inspecting the camera in his hands. Going up to them, Max's eyes looked up to Alex, his usual jester grin placed back on his features. "You stalking me, Angel?" Max inquired, as if serious. Laughing, he sat down next to Angelface, setting the duffel bag between his feet.

Prometheus, whose attention was back to the camera, pushed the 'take photo' button, whatever it's official name may be, causing a bright flash. Startled, Prometheus ran to Max for safety, hissing at the camera, as Max laughed.