2007-08-27: I Have An Annoying Cousin

Starring:

George_icon.gif Missy_icon.gif

Summary: Location, location, location.

Date It Happened: August 27th, 2007

I Have An Annoying Cousin


Chinatown

What with the lighter skin and hair and such, George is clearly out of place here. But then so are a lot of people; it's a popular corner of town. He's in the middle of a cell phone call ("I'm pretty sure I know what they want, but they won't be comfy till they drag us all in and explain slowly") as he rounds a corner, forgetting to check whether there's, y'know, anyone in his way on the other side of it.

Luckily, Missy herself wasn't just around that bend. However, her faithful pooch, was. Missy's sitting off to the side on a nearby bench, looking up at the sky like it had something interesting written on it. Day dreaming. Her hair and skin colour allow her to blend in finely, however her more angular features give her away as a non-asian.

Tweed, being unleashed and at-large, was just about to round that corner before George came walking by. The canine just barely brushes up against the man's leg, uttering a low growl, before backing up and getting completely out of the way. Without five seconds passing, Tweed's on his way back to the bench in a scamper.

And inside of those same five seconds, a series of dominoes are toppled over-- not literally, but George does take a step backward as Tweed's presence registers, which in turn causes the walking headphone ad behind him to duck out of the way and bump into a tourist couple trying to wave down a cab. "So— uh, yeah, sorry about that," he offers, first to iPod Girl who's already headed off obliviously, then redirecting it to the dog owner perched nearby. Hey, he has to say it to somebody, all right?

Missy's attention is torn away from the sky, her eyes shift down to Tweed first, and then to George, giving him a small, awkward smile. "Err… It's no trouble?" She murmurs to him, blinking. Seems the iPod girl wasn't the only oblivious one around here. She hadn't seen a thing. After a few seconds of hesitation, she asks, "What exactly did you do that would require an apology?" Her english accent is plainly audible in her high, soprano voice. Her hand reaches out to calm the faintly growling dog beside her with a pat to the head. "Hush, you old air biscuit." Is said lightheartedly to the dog.

George pauses for a second, processing the accent - it's not the first one of those that he's run across this summer - then shrugs. "Oh, I think I almost stepped on your dog's tail by accident. Looks like he made it out of the way in time." As he talks, one hand is curled up, and the back of the wrist is held out toward Tweed's nose. See? Just some guy, nothing to worry about.

"Oh." Missy says, only mildly surprised. Tweed was always bumping into people, and it was only a matter of time before he got his tail stepped on anyway. "Yeah, that's no trouble. He needs to learn how to use those enhanced senses of his anyway." She jests, giving Tweed a small nudge to the behind, urging him to greet George. And greet George he does! A few sniffs to the man's hand and Tweed gives a whoop of approval, before he hops up onto his hind legs, propping his front paws on George if allowed. All the while, his tail is waggin' away. "I'm Missy, and this is Tweed." The girl says with a coy smile as she watches the two, snapping her fingers at the dog. Obviously that was the command to sit, because once Tweed's ears pick up the snap, he's down on his rump.

The propping is taken more or less in stride, waiting until afterward to look outwardly uncomfortable about it all. "I'm George. Nice to meet you both." Looking around, he picks out a vending machine for the Post and uses it as an impromptu lean-to. "So— enhanced senses, plural? I've heard the legends about their noses, but is this one hiding a cape or something?"

Missy's lips curl inwards as she bites on her lower lip. Talk of anything enhanced made her a bit fidgety. "Pleasure's all mine." She replies, doing an alright job of schooling such nervousness and keeping her voice leveled. "No cape that I know of, but then again, Tweed's not the sort to argue the toss about anything." There's some more english slang that no one in New York seemed to understand so far. "Aren't ya, pooch?" That last statement is sent towards the dog George stands beside, and in return Tweed simply twitches his ear, while his eyes stare intently up at the man. He was still expecting some pettings. "So, what's goin' down in Chinatown for you, today?" She asks George, twisting her torso around to face him almost completely.

Hey, she's the one who brought the term up in the first place! Ah well, the whole thing is easily vague enough to go unnoticed. Especially with foreign 'I'll just make my way up the apples-and-pears' slang to draw attention away from it. "Window-shopping, mostly," George replies, leaning down to give Tweed some more attention on his own terms. "I've picked up a couple of art pieces here before— keeps the apartment from looking exactly the same as a million others." Which it is, but.

Well, she hadn't expected George to take off with the term when she said it! "Art pieces…" Missy repeats ponderously, as if contemplating a trip to the closest gallery. "Decorating an apartment, huh? Did you find anything appealing, yet?" She queries, brow furrowing as she arches it. She needed one of those apartments, yes she did. Living in a hotel was luxurious, yes, but expensive. Though it's not like money was her problem… So much as a homey feel to a living space. "Know of any properties open for lease?" As they chitchat, Tweed sits comfortably beside George, slumping forward as the man pets him. His wagging tail causes a cloud of dust to erupt from the ground.

George shrugs. "A lot of possibilities, but only a few things that would really fit in… I'm just catering to whatever looks good to me, so I can't just read up on what the experts think is a big deal or anything." At the mention of apartments, he scratches his head… not something you usually pay attention to unless you're looking yourself, or someone close to you is. "I think there's a couple places in Greenwich, depends on your price range."

That gets a small snort out of Missy as she stifles a louder sound that probably would've been a laugh, by snapping her mouth shut. Price range? Hah. "Ahh. The price isn't much of a problem at all." She says as she absent-mindedly reaches around to her back side to check up on the thick wallet in that back of her jeans. "I'm more worried about location, and whether or not the owner will allow large pets." She says, twisting completely around to prop her arms up on the back of the bench while kneeling on the seat itself. See, she needed to be as far away from her usual targets as possible. Can't have the authorities following her home from the bank. "As for art, I think it's a personal thing. Experts are going to go on what looks pretty to them." She says with a nod.

"Well… the real ones will. The phonies go on what they think will make them look smart." He straightens up and stretches his arms out. That'll have to do for now, Tweed. "Pets is obvious— what about location? What're you looking for, there?" Plausible alibi, go!

"Uhh." That was a hard one. How do you explain to someone you just met that you need an apartment away from the place you frequently rob? … You don't. "Well, something close to a restaurant, I guess. I can't cook." She begins, pausing to formulate a reason to be far far far away from the bank in this area. "How far away is Greenwich? I have an annoying… cousin who works at the bank near here, and I'd like to try and avoid any interactions with him as I can." A few things wrong with that; For one, she's quite obviously from the UK and probably wouldn't have any cousins around here. Her face screws over into a small grimace as she replays that lie in her head. Not exactly the most convincing tall tale ever… "Plus, I'd like to see more of New York. As much as I can."

The cousin angle flies right past George. Plenty of people have relatives in distant cities; sometimes it's what brings them there in the first place. The pause before 'cousin', though… Something's being covered up, but he wrongly assumes that it's a personal embarrassment of some sort. How many girls looking like that are bank robbers? How many bank robbers can keep hitting the same place and get away with it? "Well," he muses, equally unsuccessful in hiding how dubious he feels about the whole thing. "As far as seeing lots of the city? Take public transport. Takes a while, but it's usually time well spent."

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