2007-08-31: A Day Full of F's


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Summary: Niel and Giselle discuss Fresca, falafels, and Felix(!). Somehow, “popping out babies” is added into the mix.

Date It Happened: August 31, 2007

Log Title A Day Full of F's

NYC - Central Park

It's a bright sunny day and the typical lunch hour has come and gone. That just makes access to the snack stands typically found scattered around the city that much easier, and Niel has chosen to take his lunch break now. A falafel stand just outside of Central Park's low wall is where he finds himself now, and after acquiring his pita, he starts to move off to a bench to eat, carrying with him a bottle of black cherry-flavored Propel.

It appears that Giselle had been thinking along the same lines as Niel, for the blonde agent isn’t too far off. No falafel for her; she’d acquired her own lunch from a different stand a short distance before stumbling onto this one, with a napkin-wrapped hot dog and a cooled can of Fresca to show for it. Separated by a shifting wall of occasional people, she only spots the bodyguard when it looks like they’re heading towards the same place to sit, or at least in the same direction. Eyes shadowed by a pair of broad, oversized sunglasses, she picks up her fingers to wave slightly once they’re close enough to see each other, sipping her drink through a bendy straw. (Why a straw with a popcan? Who knows.)

Niel himself sports a pair of sunglasses, but they're not broad. In fact, they're quite narrow and square, which looks good and keeps the sun from being blinding. Stylin'. The rest of him is clad in the usual suit and tie — today's ensemble is dark olive green with a off-white shirt and dark green silky tie. Upon spotting Giselle, he offers her a casual wave and smile, then moves over to make room for her on the bench. "That stuff will kill you," he remarks with an indicative jerk of the chin toward her choice of sustenance.

Giselle has /pigtails/. They are long, drapy things that swing somewhat obnoxiously when she moves, though that could just be because she has an overall obnoxious manner herself. She’s still in what she had worn to work - dark slacks and a gray, flowy raglan-sleeved blouse. “Not likely,” she returns with a smirk, letting her glance hover on the vacant spot for a moment before she plops herself down, setting her purse close to her heels. “Your deep-fried falafel can’t be much better.” Heart attack in a wrap.

"Mm, but see, my falafel is surrounded by plenty of vegetables and a pita," retorts Niel, "so it's about 80% healthier than your hot dog and soda. And it's halal, so I'm doing good by the Muslims." Even if he isn't one. Falafel is about as indulgent as he gets in terms of unhealthy things. "So how's it been with you?" He doesn't actually know Giselle personally, but he's certainly seen her around work. The other work that he does.

“It’s still deep-fried, and you’re not a Muslim,” is Giselle’s response and the first thought that comes to her head. At least, she believes he isn’t a Muslim. He doesn’t really look like one. In reply to the question, she makes a grimace that’s quite visible, even though her eyes can’t be read behind her giant shades. “Alright. Yeah, actually, no. I am going to /impale/ something if Ivanov ends up with the Company.” It’s been eating at her.

"Why? If he's useful, it's for the good of the Company, right?" Niel seems indifferent and yet cheerful about it, but one can never really tell when he's being happy because he's happy, or if he's being happy because it might rankle someone. "I tell ya, if I were facing a bunch of guys with semi-automatics, I would want Ivanov on my side."

The sour expression on Giselle’s face increases. She bites off a section of hot dog, wiping away the smeared end of the mustard zigzag with a corner of the wrap before she speaks around her swallow. “If we were facing something like /that/, I hope we’d be there with a little more backup than one man named after a cartoon character.” Scowl. “He’s a dickbag. No reason to trust him.”

Niel grins, finding amusement in Giselle's ire. Harhar, something's gotten under her skin~ "That's why we've got people like Big Black And Ominous. Swiss cheese his head and Ivanov will be a perfectly compliant puppy." He shrugs a little and takes a bite from his pita, mulling it over a moment before he swallows and adds, "You know, he'd probably be a lot nicer if you guys would stop beating the shit out of him."

Doesn’t take much, that. “We keep beating the shit out of him /because/ he’s a dickbag.” Giselle points out. This is Very Reasonable, Y/Y. “A few holes in his head isn’t going to change that part of him. He’d need an entire overhaul, not just an itty memory wipe. Might as well kill him and start over with a baby.”

Niel's shoulders go up again, this time with a slight tilt of the head — a very 'what can ya do?' gesture. "Just sayin', think about it: the guy got taken down by your overzealous boyfriend— " is Vasili her boyfriend? He doesn't know. Doesn't seem to care either "— and thrown in a box and now he gets people pokin' at him and askin' him questions — if I were in his place, I can't say I'd do any different. Hell, if I were in his place, I would've punched in all our faces and dug my way out." It should be noted that Niel has done his fair share of violent takedowns. He is certainly not a pacifist. "And hey, you wanna volunteer to pop out babies for the Company, I'm sure they've got a place for you." What?

“He totally deserves it,” Giselle answers with the air of a bully justifying his playground beatings to a teacher. “He wouldn’t be in the mess he’s in now if he hadn’t /cheated/— couldn’t even fight a girl without—” She lapses into silence as that last sentence of Niel’s registers in her brain. “What did you just say? About me /popping out babies?/”

He thought that would get a reaction. Niel grins again and even quietly chuckles to himself. "Don't get your panties in a wad, Muldoon. I know you're not the type." Feminazi. "Give Ivanov a break. You're getting too personal."

In comparison to Niel’s self-assured chuckle, Giselle narrows her eyes and huffs, a tiny breath serving as an insufficient outlet for a much puffier temper. “You better know it, Youngblood. And I wasn’t talking about myself.” Somehow, she gets the feeling she’s been cheated. “He’s /getting/ a break, man, and you know it.”

"I'm talking about you giving him a break," Niel responds as he opens his Propel for a drink. "Not sayin' you should just drop everything and trust him with your life, but back off him a bit, huh? God knows you may wind up partnered with him one day." His eyebrows jerk upward and he grins. Yes what a horror that would be.

Giselle closes her lips around her straw as Niel speaks, but regrets it as a moment later she almost ends up gagging. "I would shoot myself first," she declares very matter-of-factly. "Or /him/. Church is my partner. I don't need another." Ever. Wellll. At least the Company usually makes a habit of putting people together who can actually work together.

Niel laughs at that. "Hopefully not." Then, finishing off his pita and picking up his bottle again, he rises to his feet. "Better get back. Take it easy, Muldoon. See you around."

With a mute little farewell wave – more a single wiggle, really – Giselle watches Niel depart without another word, fingering her own largely uneaten food. Hmmph. /That/, at least, she knows how to take care of.

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