2007-02-24: A Friendly Chat


Stefanie_icon.gif Namir_icon.gif Marcus_icon.gif


Idle chatting in Starbucks touches on the subjects of plants, ice cream, jobs, and linguistics.

Date It Happened: February 24th, 2007

A Friendly Chat


Early evening has set in, and the crowd at Starbuck's is fairly light. Most have gone home for dinner and preparation for the week ahead. Au Naturale is closed, and so Stefanie is off shift, and grabbing some caffeine before heading home and hitting homework. She sits at an empty table with a cafe mocha, enjoying the current cd playing which showcases whichever artist Starbucks is trying to sell off.

Although his work requires him to always be on-call, Namir Dayan is also a member of one of the few Emergency Services Units that have officers on duty 24/7. That means he has a regular shift just like any other policeman, and that shift for him today is the night shift. Caffeine is therefore required. Namir — dressed in a dark-blue button-down shirt, black slacks, and a black overcoat — has just gotten his cup of plain black coffee and moves away from the counter to find a table, which happens to be adjacent to Stefanie's. He takes a seat with a quiet sigh, setting his cup on the table and casting a glance at those sitting nearby. Stefanie is examined idly, briefly.

Stefanie takes her gaze off of the flower nearby and turns to Namir. She smiles and nods politely, then turns back to the flower, looking rather lush and firm… The flower, that is…

The smile and nod is returned just as politely before Namir's gaze moves elsewhere in the coffeeshop. After a moment of taking in his surroundings, the man lifts his cup to his lips for a sip and glances once again in Stefanie's direction, this time focusing on the flower. Strange. He's not sure he's seen such a vibrant flower.

Stefanie sighs and chuckles to the plant, placing it back onto the counter it came from. Once it's out of Stefanie's direct vicinity, it seems to dull a bit, as if taken away from sunlight and placed under flourescents. She checks her watch for the moment and takes a sip as she watches a couple walk into the shop.

Since he's watching the flower so closely, Namir is able to detect its recession into less vivid colors, but he's not quite sure if it's a trick of the light or something to do with the girl's touch. After taking another drink from his cup, he gives a nod toward the plant. "That's a very interesting flower," he remarks idly.

Stefanie blinks and looks to the man, shrugging. "To me, all flowers are interesting. They're almost like people… You can have a whole dozen roses, but not a single one is exactly the same as another. Each one requires individual attention." She blushes. "Sorry. Here I am going on like some nut."

But rather than surprise or put him off, Stefanie's explanation causes Namir to grin slightly and chuckle. "Not at all," he assures. "I've never really looked at flowers closely before — in fact, I don't know much about them at all. You seem to be very fond of them." He sets his cup on the table and looks to the flower again. "What kind is that?"

Stefanie shrugs. "Most people don't look closely. Plants are one of the many things that most people take for granted. I'm just good with them. I seem to have an incredible 'green thumb'." She smiles and looks over at the plant before turnign back to Namir. "Oh, that's an Oxalis pes-caprae, or a Bermuda Buttercup. It's been transplanted and sent up here, since there's a lack of seasonal flowers in the United States.. Low bee population and all."

That gets a lift of his eyebrows, his expression taking on a little more interest. "Really?" Namir murmurs. "That's very interesting. I never would have thought that a low bee population would cause such a thing." After a brief pause and a wider smile, he adds, "Flowers always seem to have such exotic names."

Stefanie nods. "It's becoming a big issue. A lot of the companies that make flavored ice cream are having a hard time because they use honey in most of their flavors. Haagen-Dazs specifically. I think people try to make the names more… 'flowery' to match the beauty." She giggles. "I'm Stefanie, by the way." She says and offers her hand.

Which is taken up and given a firm shake by one of Namir's own. It's accompanied by a warm smile and a slight nod. "Namir Dayan," he reciprocates. Once he's released Stefanie's hand, he settles back into his chair and picks up his cup again. "I always thought ice cream was a seasonal thing anyway," he continues the previous conversation. "When it gets too cold, nobody wants to eat it."

Stefanie shrugs. "It still sells during the winter. It's just not so hot they you *have* to have one, and they have the seasonal stands open." She smiles. "I dunno. I don't eat too much ice cream anyways. Poor Tony Montana'd have to find another pick-up line." She giggles to herself.

"I don't eat ice cream either," chuckles Namir, smiling still. His adherence to halal makes it a bit of a hassle to find ice cream that is acceptable, and he's not really fond of the frozen concoction anyway. "Tony Montana … from Scarface?" This asked with a quirk of one eyebrow and a curious cant of the head.

Stefanie smiles and nods. "Yeah. His friend thought he had to be a pig to get girls. Tony thought he need money, power, and to offer ice cream." She giggles. "All girls like ice cream." She says, in a very poor Al Pacino-Tony Montana impression. "Sorry, my Cuban's not so good." The two sit at adjacent tables off to the side of the counter. Evening's set in and the crowd is thin, most preparing for the upcoming week, and making the most of what's left of the weekend.

Marcus comes in and heads toward the counter, ordering a hot spiced cider and a blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese, he then starts looking for a table.

It's still enough of an impersonation to get a laugh out of Namir. "Your Cuban is much better than mine would be." He already speaks with a slight Israeli accent that is oddly mixed together with that of a native New Yorker. Adding Cuban to that might have bad consequences. As he's so focused on Stefanie and the conversation therewith, Namir doesn't note Marcus' entrance.

Stefanie makes note of Marcus, since she likes to watch people. However it's not more then any other patron walking in. She smiles and shrugs. "I'm sure it'd pass. So what do you do?" No, she doesn't assume he's a cab driver.

Marcus takes a seat and removes a book from his inside pocket, the cover has some strange characters that someone who knows would recognize as Hebrew, he smiles at Stefanie at the next table before cracking open his book.

Namir is most certainly not a cab driver, but he has probably saved a few! "I work with the police," he replies, deciding not to elaborate any further. Even if he wanted to, he gets a bit distracted when Marcus sits down nearby and draws out his book. The words on the cover are the things that catch Namir's interest. Having spent a great deal of his childhood in Israel, he can read some Hebrew. However, he makes no comment as yet.

Stefanie smiles and her heart flutters a bit. Nerves? Or is she turned on? Hard to say for a 16 year old. "Police? Cool. You save people." She says flatly with a smile.
Marcus sips his cider and flips through the book, not really intruding on thier coversation much.

"That is part of my job," Namir chuckles. "And what is it you do? Are you a florist?" He would guess as much, considering her affinity with plants. He does cast another glance Marcus' way, but doesn't speak still. Breaking off his conversation with Stefanie at the moment would be rude.

Stefanie giggles. "No.. I'm a high school student. Sophomore. I volunteer and work in gardening for fun. I also work over at my Dads' store." She checks her watch.. "And I need to get going and do my homework, or I'll have both of their feet up my ass." She chuckles and stands.

Marcus flips another page and looks up at Stefanie as she laughs an eyebrow raising and he shakes his head a little.

When Stefanie stands, Namir grins again briefly and extends a hand towards her. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Stefanie," he says warmly. "I hope you're not in too much trouble." He still has a bit of time before he has to be getting to work, and so his attention once again moves to Marcus. After Stefanie leaves, he'll wait a moment before remarking, "Interesting choice of translations. I didn't even know they sold The Diary of Anne Frank in Hebrew."

Marcus looks up, "yes I read it in German a couple years ago, I thought it might be interesting in Hebrew, I just learned the language."

"Interesting." Namir tilts his head to one side, raising an eyebrow curiously. "You study languages, then?" He picks up his coffee and takes a sip, watching the younger man idly.

Marcus shrugs, "More of a Hobby, I'm premed but linguistics is my minor

That gets a smirk from Namir, who sets his coffee down again and slips into fluent Arabic: "<How many do you know?>"

Marcus drops into Arabic speaking pure unaccented middleeastern with perfect fluency, "Nine actually"

Impressive! Namir's eyebrows go up, as do the corners of his lips. "<Nine? That's very good. German, Hebrew, and Arabic are three; what are the other six?>"

Marcus smiles, "English, Latin, Yiddish, Japanese, French and Spanish"

"<A very interesting repertoire.>" Namir continues to speak in Arabic, but he drops it soon after and returns to English: "Why linguistics?"

Marcus shrugs, "Needed something easy to pad my GPA

Namir chuckles again, his grin returning. "I wouldn't think linguistics were easy. You must be pretty smart." He lifts an arm and stretches and twists it to pull the arm of his shirt and overcoat back and expose the black-banded watch wrapped around his wrist. After checking it for a moment, he drops his arm again and lifts his cup for another sip. A few minutes more.

Marcus shakes his head, "No smarter then the next guy, just have a good head for languages, thier all pretty simple once you get the hang of them

"I'm sure." After another moment's pause, Namir rises from his seat. "I'd better be getting along to work. What did you say your name was?" Marcus probably didn't, but it's one way to ask.

Marcus grins a little, "Marcus Brooks, yourself?

"Namir Dayan." A hand is offered toward Marcus along with the name and a smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Mister Brooks. Good luck in your studies!"

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