2007-11-28: Mediocre Trouble In Little China


Eric_icon.gif Fenton_icon.gif Mikhail_icon.gif

Summary: Eric, Fenton, and Mikhail start the day off with a bang in Chinatown. Or punch.

Date It Happened: November 28, 2007

Mediocre Trouble In Little China

Chinatown, NY

Naturally things here are crowded and a little more packed in then the one down in Soho, but then he supposes it's also a cultural thing to have everything crammed together as they can no matter how much of a space they had to work with. New York or London, you always get a real feeling of community walking through Chinatown.

Fenton likes the atmosphere here. It's a shortcut to the other half of the world and you don't have to take a plane to do it. He's not out for any particular business, but then most of the boy's outings are on a whim. The reason for deciding to take a look around here? He had a hankering for those almond cookies…


Another long break from the art studio is just something that had to happen. Considering how much pressure the art professors are putting on the art students to make something…marvelous, for lack of a better word, one can only go so long without yelling something back at them and carry on a thunderstorm of an argument. And for this particular artist, he chooses to stay far from shooting off his mouth. For now, anyway.

Yes, the food here is great. Mikhail takes another large bite from the steamed pork bun he bought minutes ago, half of it already gone as he browses windows and meticulously set displays on the streets. His mood is still being decided behind those large sunglasses, the rim of his patterned cap tilting at an angle over his furrowed brow. The fur-trimmed jacket falls over the artist's slender frame, the choice of style making him look like he's there for a planned photo shoot. It's near impossible for him to stay inconspicuous.


Almost cookies can indeed be a good idea, however it's not almond cookies that bring Eric to this part of town. It's a different kind of food entirely. He lost a bet with Jaden, and now he has to go get food for the office. Of course Jaden RIGGED the bet, at least that's what Eric will tell everyone if asked. However the young man is always good on his word, and seems to have taken the bet to heart.

So he young businessman strolls along at Mikhail's side, he couldn't be more the opposite. The business suit, tie, and amused smirk entirely at odds with Mikhail's stylish outfit. He shakes his head a moment before glancing towards his friend. "…alright…I'm supposed to find the best…what was it…Moo Goo Gai Pan in New York." Pause. "I have NO idea how to go about doing that."


Word to the wise: if ever you want to be inconspicuous, don't go asking Mikhail for tips. As it is, the artist and stalker as Fenton has decided to officially dub him is an easy draw for attention, even from the skater himself as he walks along. That takes a lot of doing considering just how many people are out here. You should feel proud, Mikhail! Or embarrassed…

There'll be no skating today, so Fenton's left his board back at the flat with a promise to Mr. Pibbs that he'd bring back something tasty for dinner. Fish? That'd smell up the subway car he's certain. Maybe something else. He had been in the process of eying a few of the vendors that set up some of their stuff closer to foot traffic in order to draw potential customers into their restaurants when a flash of Mikhail catches his eye. Eric is only noticed a moment later, but even then Fenton has started to try sliding out of sight. Perhaps he still has his qualms about the weird artist.


A strange sight, indeed. Hey look — it's the odd couple. Everyone's probably baffled by the stark contrast. Hey, some are just jealous they can't pull off stuff like Miki can. His mother is also to blame, but let's not get into that.

The rest of the bun disappears into his mouth, fingers flicking off any extra crumbs from the breaded part. "There should be plenty of places around here for that," the artist murmurs, his slate blue gaze snapping over at Eric for a moment. "We are in Chinatown…"

His voice trails, the pair of sunglasses adjusted. He knows he saw someone familiar. He can almost sense it. Stalker senses?! Highly unlikely.


"You would think there would be…but everyone around here says theres is the best. I don't have an outside opinion about it to trust." Eric replies with a smirk before he shakes his head slightly. "Bah, I'll just pick a place and Jaden better be happy with it all." He grumbles slightly, one hand sliding into his pocket. The smirk on the well dressed businessman's face doesn't fade in the least as he contemplates Jaden's reaction. Maybe he should find something really disgusting and give it to the guy. Not like he knows what Moo Goo Gai Pan is really right?

As Mik trails off though, the young man's sharp eyes peer towards his artist friend. "…something wrong?" He asks as he slows in his walk. After all, he has no idea there are stalkers and stalkees about.


As easy as it should be to virtually vanish from view in a crowd of people, it takes things like timing, coordination, and a little cooperation from the people around you. Unfortunately for Fenton, he usually tends to move first and look later, resulting this time in him bumping someone. This abruptly ends his initial attempt to slip away as he makes a hurried apology to the disgruntled man and turns to suddenly find himself nose to beak with a caged chicken once he turns around. "-gah..!" is met with an equally surprised squawk, Fenton stepping back and once again into the man he'd just apologized to.

Once had been enough for the guy already, twice is pushing it when he's in a bad mood and still waiting for his order of kung pao chicken. His arm whips out to shove the British kid back to chickenland, but Fenton drops down as soon as he sees that arm winding back. Physics takes over at that point and the man practically goes sprawling over him, ending up falling towards another bystander. Yelling and screams and squawking ensues.


"Something…someone," Mikhail starts again after a long pause, eyes still focused elsewhere down the street. The cool moment is ruined when Fenton does most of the foiling to himself on the escape attempt. The other people aren't helping, either.

The artist stares while quirking an eyebrow casually at the scene. Goodness. He sometimes wonders if Fenton can survive in specific spaces for certain lengths of time. "…Keep up with me," he tells Eric, leaning forward before dashing off through the crowd. He is careful not to make any more of a mess here, and at least he's gotten better at dodging around those who have no idea what just happened. Soon enough, Mikhail reaches the spot, waving a hand at those who are still shouting while trying to give a hand to Fenton. Actually, he should help the other guy up too. And the chickens? Wait.


Sliding his eyes over towards the commotion Eric just blinks at the sight of chickens, people, and Fenton all apparently in a shouting match. Just watch the feathers fly right there. A startled look from him before he just shakes his head slightly and laughs. Oh this is too good. However at the words from Mikhail the young man darts off fast on Mik's heels. He seems to be quite good at dodging and eeling his way past the crowd, better than anyone dressed in a suit like that should be at least.

A grin as he arrives at the center of the madness, grinning as he reaches down to help the innocent bystander of Fenton's madness up as well before looking down at the skateboarder. A pause before he glances at Mik. "Friend of yours?" He asks before hrmmming. "…and in class with us too I think."


Hey, it has all just been a big misunderstanding! Besides, with all of what's going on, Fenton's probably the safest where he is, still crouched down on the ground as he casts a sheepish look over a shoulder at the commotion that he has apparently been the catalyst to. "…bugger…" He's not trampled, thankfully, but he's waiting for a good time to get back to his feet without risking being pulled into the near brawl that's erupted.

His grey-green eyes slide over towards Mikhail and Eric as they come on through. Well, so much for being invisible. After casting another wary glance towards the people shouting over chickens and things, Fenton accepts the help with a muttered thanks, pulling the brim of his cap down a bit to cover his eyes. No, you didn't just see any of that, okay?


As Eric grins, Mikhail stays pretty deadpan. "Uh…yeah. Sort of," he replies, trying to look back at the businessman over the fur trim. "Ran into him twice or something like that." Keeping an eye on the upset people still boiling over from the little mishap is hard. It may not be little to them, but there's only so much one can do to keep a situation under control.

This should really be the job of a policeman or a security guard. Being the son of one is somewhat helpful, anyway. In fact, Mikhail could have just left Fenton to his own devices. Not like he knew him that well from the start, but for some reason he couldn't just leave it alone either. It isn't any of his business. Why get involved?

The question is going unanswered for now. "Look, everyone just…calm down," he says to those within hearing range, his tone sounding a bit heavy. "Nothing's going to get fixed by yelling…"


"Hope you didn't run into him in the literal sense," Eric quips towards the other man before he dusts his hands off on his pants and turns to look at the group of milling and angry bystanders. He grins easily to the big group. "Right! He didn't mean anything by what happened, all an accident!" He assures the milling people, reinforcing what Mikhail is saying with the smile on his face and the pitch of his voice. A pause then before he lowers his voice so only Mik can hear. "…I wonder if this is a good time to bring up the food." He says with an amusing tone of voice.

A glance then at Fenton before he shakes his head slightly, not at the other student but just at the whole situation. With his luck he's going to have to run from a freekin mob in a few seconds.


"Ran after me is more like it," Fenton clarifies, looking flatly at the two before he glances back at the people. A few others have started to try playing peacekeeper as well, but there are just some people that want to put up a fight even when it isn't a good idea. The guy's hungry, he's gotten bumped twice, he still hasn't gotten his order, some other guy's yelling at him about scaring his chickens and now this guy with the hair is trying to tell him some obvious advice.

"Hey fancy pants, put a sock in it!" he growls before swinging a fist at the artist's face.


Mikhail does something similar to a double-take, the sunglasses slipping down a little as he glances back at Fenton. "It's because you ran away, Fen," he says in his own defense. Mild annoyance has also appeared, but it goes back under the stoic facade. He's not a stalker. Not really. No.

That stops him from actually helping Fenton up from his safe zone. The artist's lower lip sort of twitches at the 'fancy pants' comment. Seriously - it's either the comments or his clothing. The latter isn't going to change. Unfortunately, as Mikhail is about to say something back to the angry man, the words are lost.

Dodging the punch doesn't work today.

In no time, Mikhail is down on the floor, dazed.


"…what the hell kind of justification was that Mikhail?" Eric laughs as he asks his friend. "Are you suddenly a lion and he a gazelle?" He teases, grinning slightly before he beams at Fenton. "Eric Lancaster, just in case we don't be a chance to introduce ourselves."

Of course, then Mr. Angry Man has to go and do something rather silly like punch Mik.

Eric pauses a moment, looks in shock towards Mik on the ground, then the angry man standing over him. Its like his mind doesn't quite register what just happened for a moment. Processing. Processing. Ah. Done.

The businessman's own hand snaps out to wrap around the wrist of the man that just decked Mikhail and apply juuuuust enough pressure for a nice joint lock. "…I think you should apologize to my friend there for what just happened." He says.

…this is what is called negotiating from a position of strength.


He remembers Eric. "From the bakery the other day," Fenton says, but he gets no further than that, nor a chance to add to Eric's response to Mikhail's spotty reasoning. That's because Mikhail is suddenly on the ground.

Okay, what just happened? Usually Fenton doesn't stay around the area long enough to see what happens next, so for a moment he's waffling for what he's supposed to be doing, just as Eric is. And then Eric makes a grab for the other guy's wrist. Well, that makes it clear as to Fenton's options now. Run away! Wait, no… Man down, even if he is a bit of an odd bloke. He watches the two as he slowly kneels down to grab Mikhail's shoulder and shake it. "Hey. Michael or whatever, you okay?"

Meanwhile the other man that Eric has effectively prevented from lashing out at anyone else throws a glare at the young businessman— just before wincing at the position his arm is in. "—I don't be owing no one any apologies!"


One punch shouldn't have brought him down so easily, but when one considers the size and weight differences, the information is pretty valid. Mikhail squints, blinking slowly from blurred senses as he raises a hand up in the air over his line of sight. He's still trying to take into account how he got to the floor so quickly from where he was standing.

And his face hurts.

Wait a minute, someone's shaking him back into focus. "Ow," the artist seethes, turning his head to look up at Fenton. His mouth stays open, but it takes a bit of time to actually get a response out. "….I…think so. Agh." Another pause as he tries sitting up, stopping halfway to look at the skater again. "…it's Mikhail."

Once he does sit up all the way, his sunglasses fall off and clatter onto the ground. Eyes go back over at Eric and the other man, still squinting as the pain throbs off-beat.


"Oh come on now, you just punched him for no reason," Eric says cheerfully. Maybe a little to cheerfully to be honest, a half smile still on his face. "It won't take much to apologise for it, then we can all go on our seperate little ways and no one has to be angry with anyone." He shrugs. "…I'm not asking for much…" And he applies just a slight bit more pressure. Just enough to hurt a little. "…just an apology."

However, at hearing Mikhail's voice, he half turns away from the man he has in a grip. The young man's face flashing concern. "You alright Mikhail?" He asks lightly, taking his eyes off the man that hit him for a moment.


There's plenty at stake here. It's called pride, which far too many people find as enough of a reason to go so far as they do nowadays. The man gapes at Eric like a fish. "Where'd you come from, an afterschool special?" He winces as his arm twinges with the reinforced grip. He looks like he might be rethinking that whole bit about apologizing— until he notices that Eric's attention has slipped from him. Hey dude, I got two fists you know! To prove it, here's the other one!

Fenton snorts at Mikhail's correction, like it matters at the moment. It's proof enough that the guy's all right… so to speak. He leans back as Mikhail sits up, glancing back at Eric as he resumes 'conversing' with the other man. Perhaps that's a good thing too, as he notices the latter reeling back for second rounds with his fist. "Watch it—!" he hisses, cringing. He's too far to make a grab for the guy, not to mention still on the ground. He knows this, but that doesn't stop him from hoping that fist won't meet its target.

"OW!!" the man shouts— an odd thing for the man that's doing the hitting to be saying. His fist had been swung, but it doesn't reach Eric's face. It just stops five inches from the businessman's face as if the guy had in the end decided to psyche Eric out. This is obviously not so, judging from the astonished look on the man's face as he pulls his hand back, his knuckles red as though he'd hit something after all.


He runs a hand over his face, touching the punched area for a second before running it over the rest of his head. Well, his hair is there - where's the hat? It's somewhere behind him, but he'll get it later. If he remembers. "Y-yeah, I'll be fine," he says in response to Eric's concern, his nodding sort of shaky. It'll leave a mark, but as long as he's in one piece…

The time to react at the next punch heading toward the businessman is slower than usual. The shout came from Fenton anyway, his own thoughts reinforcing it. Eyes widen when Mikhail sees something odd happen with the man's hand. Although the illusion works, he still feels like there's something else behind it. "…" And to make sure that the man tries nothing else, the artist shifts his gaze to look at him. His arm locks into place to the side of his own body. A subtle move, really.


Eric smirks slightly, eyes still on Mikhail for the moment. "Something like that, this is technically afterschool." He adds before at the call of warning comes from Fenton. His eyes snap back towards the man and he's already dodging out of the way by reflex before he blinks in surprise. That punch…stopped? How in the nine…oh wait. Yeah. Thats how. He didn't do it though. So who did? Mik? Fen? Some random person in the crowd?

At this point, who knows. First things first, and he twists the man's arm about. Now brutally, not enough to break it, enough to make him bend over though. "Now. Apologize." He says in a tone of voice that brooks no argument, even as his mind wonders just who did…whatever just happened.


Fenton's eyes widen as he sees the fist pause in midair. The man was really in no position to be pulling a bluff, so why? How? Or was it…

His gaze slides back towards Mikhail, watching the guy shift slightly, and he looks back towards the man being held by Eric. Said man looks completely confused as to what just happened, and then his free arm suddenly drops down to his side, staying there. The other arm is twisted, the man yelping out in pain. He swears at the ground, his mind uncomprehending as to what's just happened but he doesn't think he should be around these people anymore. All it's ending up in is getting him hurt! "—'m sorry, I'm sorry okay?!" he gasps.

Some of the people that had been around have shuffled off to resume their own business, others still hang around out of curiosity, perhaps even disappointed that there's no fight to be had after all of this. Fenton just wants to get out of here, or everyone else to just go away and mind their own business.


The blue gray gaze is half-lidded as the man is put into submission, his expression almost chilling. Thankfully, it stays on the mild side. "…He apologized, Eri," Mikhail says softly, his arm unlocking. "It's good enough."

Again, he shifts, his free arm feeling around to grab his cap and sunglasses. At the same time, he looks back at the others still watching. The expression still holds upon his features as he tries getting up. He's still a bit unsteady, after all. "…Where're the cops when you need them," he murmurs to himself. He's with Fenton here: people need to clear out.


"Alright," Eric just lets the guy go with a gentle shove. The smile doesn't really fade either as he fixes his jacket, his tie. He still looks like he just stepped out of a high class business catalogue. A nod then towards Mikhail before he shakes his head slightly. "I have no clue…" He murmurs softly before he raises his voice again. "…alright people, no fight, no chickens. Nothing else left to see. Clear it out." He still sounds cheerful, personable about it but he obviously would rather the whole group broke up and went about their business.

A sigh though before he grins towards his two fellow students. "Now…let's go find something to eat. I'm starving."


The man stumbles away, grabbing at his arm once he realizes he can move them again, rubbing at the soreness. He throws a glare at the trio before shuffling away. Screw this- he isn't staying around another minute, food or no food. The other people begin to disperse, if not at Eric's words, then because there's simply nothing left to see.

Fenton breathes a sigh of relief before he finally rises to his feet. He grabs a hold of Mikhail's arm once he sees the guy uneasy in trying to stand again. A brow is quirked in Eric's direction at the suggestion. As ridiculous a suggestion as it might be after something like all that had just happened, Fenton finds himself nodding to it instead of shooting it down. Moving away from here would be good. Distraction, food, cookies- yes, cookies will make things better. But mostly leaving this spot. "…yeah."


Saved from falling over again. "Thanks," the artist says to Fenton with a faint smile. Mikhail straightens, placing the sunglasses on their rightful spot before slipping the cap on top of his head. He also gives Eric a look, wrinkling his nose a little. He then glances back at the skater. "…He does tend to skip over things optimistically, at least?" It's Eric. They've only hung out several times, but Mikhail gets the gist of how Eric works.

In the meantime, he isn't opposed to having something fill his stomach. "As long as you're paying," Miki quips, rolling a shoulder. "I'm good with that."


Eric works on many different and assorted levels. Right now though he just got to blow off some steam, even if it was just a little bit. He's feeling good, he's feeling cheerful. He might as well be feeling hungry to, and hungry is much more easily remedied than most of his other problems. A smirk at Mik though before he returns. "You should see me in a boardroom meeting." He says before he laughs. "And optimism is a good thing to have, if your going to have something right?"

At Miki's quip though he shrugs. "Well I should be able to afford it," He jokes before he waves the other two on. "Sure though, sure. You two pick a spot. I'll pay for it."


The blonde-haired teenager nods slowly at Mikhail's thanks, and once again at his summary of Eric. Whether fitting or not, for now Fenton can agree with it. It goes with what Michelle had mentioned back in the bakery about how different Eric acted over phonecalls in comparison to her father. Being calm, cheery and collected is sometimes just as frightening as being an angry ball of negative energy. Everyone knows what to expect from someone who is mad, but it's harder to gauge a person that looks perfectly pleasant.

A small grin is offered Eric's way, tugging into a smirk on one end as he releases Mikhail's arm once he's sure the guy isn't going to go toppling over. Right. So, somewhere to eat, is it? "Anywhere but here."


A boardroom meeting would definitely be something. Mikhail's eyebrows raise slightly, a hint of interest sparking in his eyes. He can't really picture Eric blowing his top, but he figures it's a mood one shouldn't dare to cross anyway. The man has a lot more optimism than he did, and it's going to stay that way.

The released arm flexes, circulation going back through it. "Hmm," he muses, nodding at Fenton's brief suggestion. The other hand rises seconds later, pointing in another random direction. "Let's go that way." If there's smoke billowing out of the top, there's got to be meat.


Or a fire.




Sometimes more frightening, sometimes less. Right now though he seems to be in quite the good mood. See. He seldom blows his top at a board meeting, but when he does the temperature of the room drops ten or twenty degrees. Eric's optimism comes mostly from the fact that he realized that he could either hope for the best, or fall into a deep depression.

The choice there was obvious.

"…well where there is smoke there is moo goo gai pan, or something." Eric replies with a grin as he starts off towards it, hands in his pockets and a half smile on his face. "Lets get stuffed, and Jaden can wait on me to get back. I'm sure he deserves it for something." With that cheerful thought, off the young man strolls.

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