2007-03-03: It's Quiet in Here: Part 2


Alyssa_icon.gif Namir_icon.gif


Namir catches up with Alyssa outside of Starbucks after scaring her away with a demonstration of his powers. He returns her phone and apologizes. Alyssa forgives him and draws him into a small abandoned lot to show him her own powers. Namir is impressed. Alyssa asks for his number in case she gets the urge to ask questions, and he gives it.

Date It Happened: March 3rd, 2007

It's Quiet in Here: Part 2

Lower Manhattan

Alyssa isn't doing the whole running away thing. It's more like a really urgent power-walk of away. She's gained only about half a block of maneuvering distance before the Starbucks door opens and she hears her name. A quick furtive glance over her shoulder shows that it is Namir, no less, and he wants her to stop. But she's already so determined to get away that her feet keep moving even while she considers stopping, talking to the guy and sorting things out.

No, that isn't the reaction Namir is looking for. Alyssa may not be running, but he starts to in order to catch up. He's so worried about giving her phone back right now that he hasn't even considered the possibilities of what might happen if he doesn't stop her and talk to sort things out. Who knows who she might tell? Who knows who might want to know? "Alyssa, wait!" The shouting grows a little quieter as Namir gets closer, and when he does finally catch up, he falls into step beside the woman and holds out the phone toward her. "You forgot this."
Oh! And… there he is. Obviously Namir has discovered the vast improvement on speed that is actually running. Defeated, Alyssa does not cease to quickly walk down the street but she does glance over at the man and then has to tear her eyes away from his face to notice what 'this' is. Ho jeez, her phone. "… jeez, thanks, expensive piece of crap," she puts out a hand to grab for the phone but if one of both of them isn't careful enough then she's more likely to drop it than anything else.

Sadly, Namir is in such a rush to get the phone to Alyssa that he isn't terribly careful. When it drops, he comes to an abrupt halt and fumbles quickly to catch it — after bobbling it in a bit of an undignified manner, he manages to save the thing from certain death on the concrete. Barely. He mutters what sounds like a prayer in Arabic and straightens again, breathing a soft sigh as he extends the phone once more. "I really am sorry about what happened back there," he murmurs calmly. "I didn't mean to scare you, or Mister Cho."

"Ph— " That was Alyssa almost calling to the fallen phone, but Namir's hand fumbling acrobatics cut her off first. Somewhere in there, she's managed to stop walking and as Namir faces her, phone out, she nods quietly and puts out her own hand once more. This time, she pauses, her fingers hovering against his, "It's not… no, I reacted pretty bad there. I didn't mean to, like… insult you or something," she sucks in a deep breath, "It was just sort of… a lot there. I mean, hey, flowers are one thing cause, wow, they grow that's scary, and some dude with the arm stuff, but you—" Exactly what Namir is doesn't make it out of her mouth. She's too flustered. First she has to, embarrassed, realize her hand's just floating there and grab the phone before making a big deal of stuffing it into her back pocket, as if that's such a concentration-consuming thing to do.

"What I do isn't much different," Namir intones, tucking his own hand into his pocket once the phone has been taken. He felt that prolonged touch, and the embarrassment following really drives home the awkwardness of it, but he manages to keep his focus. "I just alter sounds. I make them louder or softer." His voice is kept low to avoid the ears of the people passing by on the sidewalk. "Losing all sound can be unsettling. I should have thought it through a little better." He frowns deeply, his brow furrowing when he adds, "Mister Cho left his book. I have no idea how I'm going to find him to return it."

Alyssa gives a strong, meaningful shake of her head, "What I mean is that all those things… they're just affecting some plant or themselves, who cares. You actually /took/ something from me. And I couldn't do /shit/ about it. That's the unsettling part." She doesn't sound angry, but almost thoughtful now in her insistence. The more she starts to think about it from this angle of consideration, the less she remembers it happened to her just moments ago. The redirection to the book gets minimal attention, "Yeah, I don't know… just met the guy. Maybe he'll remember and come back for it. Either you or it should clock in some more hours at Starbucks. But, wait, I probably owe you for all that, and how I acted." A brief moment of hesitation and then she glances behind, notes the space, and then half-backs into a small private parking lot away from the main street where people pass by and watch.

The book is pushed into the realm of afterthoughts as well as Alyssa speaks of owing him. Namir doesn't know her too well, and so her backing into a secluded area is troubling, to say the least, but she doesn't seem to mean him any harm. Besides, he's a big boy with big boy training; he can really handle himself in a fight. After glancing over both shoulders to be sure that he's not followed, he steps into the lot after Alyssa, his eyebrows lowered curiously. He says nothing but his face holds the question: What are you doing?

Yeah, big lawman Namir probably doesn't have a lot to worry about here. Alyssa, on the other hand, is taking her last sane second to stare determinedly at Namir's face to see if she can detect the single shadow of a dangerous line or… untrustworthy wrinkle. Whatever it is that makes people look harmful. But it's all a cover, really, because she already made the decision when she walked into this back lot in the first place. So, with a sigh, Alyssa snatches the book belonging to Sean out of Namir's hands and tosses it sideways as hard as she can. While her hand is still out-stretched, she commands, "Novel," while picturing the particular one quite forcibly.

Halfway on its descent to the ground, the book suddenly stops, wiggles like some kind of animal, begins to fall… and then suddenly shoots into Alyssa's hand. The force of the over-eager novel smacks her palm and sends her elbow jerking back towards her, the whole arm whipping past her shoulder somewhat painfully. "… Oww.. I /suck/. That always /sucks/."

That isn't Namir's book. He hopes it doesn't get harmed! But as he watches Alyssa's demonstration, it soon becomes apparent that the book isn't going to be harmed. The Middle-Eastern man watches in astonishment — which soon turns to a flinch of sympathetic pain at the conclusion. /Yeowch/. He takes a step forward, reflexively reaching out a hand to rest on the shoulder of the assaulted arm. "Are you all right?" But while he is concerned, Namir is also grinning a little, and there's a quiet chuckle to his voice. "That was amazing."

Alyssa rolls the one shoulder as it flares up with a protest for its too-quick movement before but this is stilled by Namir's touch. She starts to glance sideways at his hand but the question gets her to focus on him and that growing smile. She can't help it; now she's starting to smile, too. "It's not /really/," she starts, "I mean… that's all that happens. I smack myself in the hand. Sometimes the face— I should tell you about that later…" This is so weird, her knees are almost shaking. "I've never…. hmm."

He can't help it: Namir laughs. Even /he/ finds the idea of someone getting smacked in the face with an unknown flying projectile amusing. It might be a quiet laugh, but it's there. "How long ago did you find out that you were gifted?" he asks, his hand remaining on Alyssa's shoulder. "If you're just now figuring things out, you really should get hold of that book Miss Aldric recommended. It helped me several years ago."

The humor is infectious, and Alyssa's grin brightens. It might not have been funny at the time, nor whenever it happens again, but she's big enough to laugh at her own continued misfortunes with Sprite cans. "Gifted? Oh, uh… I don't know, it's been kind of gradual. I don't keep track of time well, see, I suppose we could be safe saying some month a bit back… Well, I'll be back at Cass' place soon, actually, cause I'm interviewing to work at her bookstore. Heh, imagine that." Speaking of books, she lifts the one of Sean's in front of her, switching it to her free left hand so she can inspect the red welt forming in that palm. "Several years, huh? I guess you probably don't injure yourself every time you try something anymore. Ah, well, if you ever did… hearing…"

"Actually, if I push my limits, I get headaches and dizzy spells, but no, I don't think I've ever hit myself in the face with sound before." Is it even possible? Who knows? For the purpose of Namir's joke, it is. He's grinning again as he slips his hand off Alyssa's shoulder and takes a step back, glancing over his shoulder. It's starting to get a bit later in the day, and he does need to get home. He looks back at Alyssa and holds out his hand for the novel. "You should keep practicing at it, if you can stand the welts and muscle-wrenching. It's the only way to get better, and who knows? It might come in handy for you someday." It has for Namir.

Alyssa flexes the hurt hand carefully, thoughtfully. How does she feel about this? She'd always sort of just written it off. Literally. After a long silence, she says quietly, "Thanks. I never ever thought I'd tell someone. The last few days… sure been crazy." She lifts the novel now back to him, this time using a lingering touch on his wrist to hold him there, "Can I talk to you again? I mean, like a number or something? Now that I have my phone back." Heh.

Unlike some policemen, Namir doesn't have business cards. He's not a detective who has to deal with victims or the families of victims on a regular basis; he's the cop who goes in and does all the physical stuff when things get ugly. However, he's also smart enough to carry around a small notepad and pencil in his pocket. He smiles again as he reaches into one of his overcoat pockets with his free hand. "Of course." Sean's novel is used to help balance things as he writes down two numbers: a local number, and a cell. The paper is then torn from his notepad and offered to Alyssa. "This one rings my apartment, and this is my cell in case I'm not home. Feel free to call anytime." And he does mean anytime! After a brief pause, he adds, "I can't remember if you ever told me your last name."

"Christianson," Alyssa informs him as she takes the piece of paper, examines the numbers a second, and then folds the piece of paper to slide into her back pocket with her phone. Maybe she'll remember to record the number if she stores the two together. Or the phone will magically learn it. Yeah. Anyway, there isn't exactly malice laced into her own last name, but it's a bit of a resigned tone there. They might not be from the crowd Namir knows, but the high and the mighty or the medical fields certainly has heard of the family. And probably Alyssa's tragic fall into a 'dead-end' career choice. "Thanks again, Mis— Namir." Smile! She's happy. In fact, she's sort of floating in a surreal space right now mind-wise.

The last name isn't really familiar with Namir, so he doesn't catch any deep meaning in it. He just grins and gives a bob of his head in acknowledgement. "You're welcome, Alyssa. As I said, if you'd like to talk, just give me a call." And with that and a wave in farewell, he turns to head back out into the main bustle of the city. At least he made peace with one of the people he terrified today.

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