2007-03-25: Misfortunes


Candy_icon.gif Oliver_icon.gif

Summary: Oliver literally runs into Candy and gives her an earful about charity work and the obligation of the rich to help the poor. Candy doesn't really get it.

Date It Happened: March 25, 2007


Upper West Side

Evening in the city. Insert one actress, fresh from doing some shopping. Candy's in a pretty good mood tonight. It's warmed up lately, spring is on the horizon, and she's in possession of new clothes. That -always- makes it a good night. Shopping bags in hand, the brunette heads down the sidewalk slowly, window-shopping a bit.

He's not shopping; Oliver is coming back from Mount Sinai after visiting with a friend — a nurse on-duty. The Bohemian walks with one hand tucked into the pockets of his brown slacks, lean frame covered by a red-and-blue striped long-sleeved shirt. The other hand holds a cell phone to his ear. "Yeah, Ma. Yeah. Everything's fine. Yeah, I'll talk to her. Sure." The way he's going now, the small man doesn't realize that he's on a collision course with Candy.

Candy is fairly oblivious at the best of times. And right now her thought pattern is more along the lin—OOH, pretty shoes! She stops right in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to face the window…which just makes a collision that much more likely.

More like inevitable. "I don't know wh— " Oliver is cut off mid-sentence when he makes contact with Candy. His phone is knocked from his hand and clatters to the sidewalk, but he's mostly worried about who he just ran into. "Sorry, miss," he grunts once he's steadied himself on his feet. "Didn't see you there."

Those are really nice. Might have to go pick up a few pa—*THUD* That's about as far as she gets before Oliver bumps into her. Of course, she's not particularly high mass, plus she's in heels; she takes a topple, with a surprised noise. She lands mostly on her hip, a little on her backside, and looks up, apparently not so hurt, but just really surprised. "Oh…it's all right…" she says, gathering herself up a bit. "I was being kind of a roadblock." she admits.

"Yeah, well, I should've been paying attention," Oliver remarks wryly as he dips to pick up his phone and utter, "I'll call you back, Ma" into it. It's then folded up and placed in his pocket, and he offers a hand down to Candy to help her to her feet. "You all right? Anything broken?"

Candy stands, with the offered help, taking his hand. "I'll be okay. It's just a little stiff, but I'm sure it'll be fine by morning." Well, for her, anyway. Hooray for rapid healing. "And thank you for being a gentleman and helping me up, instead of a jerk and just keep going."

"What's it say about society nowadays when you've gotta thank someone for not being a jerk?" snorts Oliver once Candy's up on her feet. "No problem at all. I just wish more people in this city would do the same. Maybe we'd all be happier."

She smiles. "Mmmm…that it sucks, and New York is full of rude people?" She makes a face as she feels at the dress. "Oh, dammit, I tore my dress." She looks annoyed at the little tear at her hip, more than the fall itself. "Hmmm…would you mind giving me a hand with the bags, so I can keep a hand over this? I don't need a little tear becoming a big tear and the photographer types getting a field day.

"Sure." Oliver extends his arms to take up any bags Candy has to offer, then he pauses with a quizzical expression. "Photographers?" Is she somebody famous? He doesn't recognize her, having not really watched any of her films.

Candy lets out just a little sigh, before handing the bags over to him, and then pressing one hand to her hip to stop the tear in the fabric from spreading. She points them out with a finger, here and there. Not tons, but present. "Yeah, a few of them. That little tumble'll probably be in a tabloid somewhere."

Oliver blinks once or twice as the paparazzi are pointed out to him. Huh. /Interesting/. He's soon scowling, however, and he turns to follow Candy to wherever-it-is she's headed. "Parasites," he grumbles. "People are too interested in the misfortunes of the famous, and the famous are too interested in their own misfortunes."

She looks at him curiously at that. "We are, huh?" she says, amused. "Did it occur that we'd probably be a lot happier if they'd leave us the heck alone?"

"Not saying you wouldn't," retorts Oliver with a small shrug. "What I'm saying is: when is the last time you spent your money on something worthwhile? Having millions is great for you, sure, but it'd be even greater for a lot of people out there." He doesn't seem perturbed that what he says might be taken as offensive; truthfully, he's never perturbed about that sort of thing.

Candy replies "Actually, next week. My son's holding a big charity benefit." A smile back at him. "See, we're not all superficial and all that." Even if -she- is some of the time. Okay. A lot of the time.

Forgive the man some assumption; the bags of clothes did not appeal to his sense of 'charitable woman'. Oliver blinks in mild surprise, then there's a spark of recognition. "The EvoSoft thing?" he inquires. "So you're Jaden Cain's mother, then. Candy … Cain." /Wow/, it sounds weird to say that aloud. "I read about that in the paper."

She nods. "The EvoSoft thing, and yes, I'm Jaden's mom, and it's very nice to meet you. I'd offer to shake your hand, but you're holding bags and I'm holding my dress." She's nice…if a little bit of a space case.

"Oliver Pasternack. I'd offer to shake yours, but again, bags." He smirks a bit, dryly, before adding, "And charity events are all well and good, but who is it going to help in the long run? You get a bunch of people together, they have a party and then go home feeling good about themselves because it was 'for charity'. I'm talking about flying relief workers to Third World countries, sinking money into the fight against AIDs. Y'know, with the money you spent on these clothes you've got here— " he hefts the bags for display "— you could probably have saved several lives."

Candy looks a little confused. "But we're donating WAY more money than I spent on clothes at the Charity Bazaar. So it's not like there's not already gonna be tons and tons of money."

Oliver shrugs again. "It's not a question of how much you're /doing/; it's a question of how much you /could/ do. Not saying you don't /do/ good, but you could do /more/ if you really wanted to." Guilt-trip much?

Candy doesn't seem to get it. "I guess?" she asks. "I mean, we already give to lots of charity things. There's a financial person that handles all that. I think." Just a bit of a ditz. She keeps walking on with him towards the Cain residence.

Okay, so maybe she's … not exactly smart. Fweh. Oliver pauses, blinks, then shakes his head. She's not getting it. "That's too bad," he informs her. "If you lived the way I do, you could take the money you've got left over and sink it into every worthy cause on Earth. You'd be doing the entire world a favor and you'd be happier with yourself."

The brunette finally reaches the doors. "I don't think I can live the same way you do, unless you're an actor. I mean, there are certain things we have to do to be in the business that we're in. And one of those is dressing nice." An apologetic smile. "Thank you for helping carry my things, though."

"I /am/ an actor," Oliver responds with a grin as he hands over the bags. "I'm also a singer and songwriter, among other things. I'd rather dress this way and be poor than rich and having to spend thousands on nice things just for the sake of my image." He bows slightly once he's freed of the burden. "Have a good evening."

Candy blinks in surprise. "Oh." she says, not having expected that answer. "Well, come to the benefit, and we can talk more about it then!" she says, waving, by way of a parting statement. Well, it's an invitation, at least.

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