2007-03-02: Multi-Cultural Festival


Daniel_icon.gif Sean_icon.gif Namir_icon.gif Seamus_icon.gif

Summary: Several individuals meet by chance on the promenade beside the FDR.

Date It Happened: March 2nd, 2007

Multi-Cultural Festival

Uptown, NYC - Upper East Side

Life just isn't the same for Daniel without a skateboard, and since his last skateboard was crushed under the wheels of a truck he's made it his business to buy himself a new one. It put him back a long way in his efforts to afford other things, like a new gaming system and the neverending list of new games to buy. Still, that was this morning. Those regrets were also this morning. Now, in the late afternoon, the teenager is skating along the promenade along the FDR Drive, staring idly at the river with a rather pleased look on his face. It's a nice day, even if it's close to ending, and the young man isn't at all looking forward to the following day at school. A few gentle sways sends him threading in and out of the sparse crowds, though a few people have to move rather hurriedly out of his way.

Standing at the railing that overlooks the waterfront is Namir Dayan, enjoying some fresh air, even if that air is a bit chilly thanks to both the changing season and the breeze off the river. His hands are gloveless but still contain bandages, and the bandage on his cheek has been removed to reveal the healing blister spot. He's doing remarkably well and even played a bit of XBox today. A little. Smiling faintly at his own thoughts, the Muslim — dressed in civilian garb and his overcoat — half-turns to observe the passersby on the walkway. The sound of wheels brings his attention toward Daniel, and his smile fades slightly. Goody. He doesn't greet the boy just yet.

Seamus, luckily, isn't one of the people who feels the need to duck away from Daniel and his skateboard. This mostly has to do with the fact that he's not actually /walking/ along the side of FDR, but is instead sitting idly on the railing separating the walk from the river, the tail of his heavy coat flapping slightly in the river breeze. His back is to the water: watching people is far more interesting than watching birds and ripples. Dan is no exception, and the slightly quickened movement afforded him by his skateboard is enough to draw Seamus's eye. /Peer/. Namir hasn't caught his attention yet. No reason for him to.

Swerve, swerve, bank, /stop/. Daniel's right foot hits the ground just behind the skateboard and his left slides down to step on its very end, the boy having stopped almost directly in front of Namir. "Hey, if it isn't Harvey Dent again. Where's your quarter? Can't decide to do good or bad without your fuckin' quarter." There's no need for Namir to greet him. He's taken the /initiative/. "Backing up any shithead porcupines today, or is that just a once-a-week thing?"

Once again, Namir is unperturbed by the insults and, ignoring the boy's mouth, he glances down at the board. Hmm. "That looks new," he remarks blandly. "What happened to your other one?" The Muslim turns to put his back fully to the water so that he might better face Daniel, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his hip against the railing.

Well. This is fun. Seamus shifts slightly on the rail, centering his weight a bit more comfortably on the chill bar. He's just a few yards over from the… /chatting/ pair, so it's not terribly difficult to overhear the conversation. He does his best to keep his presence unobtrusive, his expression disinterested, but he can't help but grin at the Muslim's cool response. Hahaha.

Just as his insults are ignored, Daniel ignores the lack of reaction to them and continues. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you. Among other things, a truck smushed it. Pity they don't do something useful and smush all of you terrorist bitches instead." Daniel doesn't believe that crap, but, well - there are certain things a young man in his situation tends to say, and Namir is a silly bastard. He can take it.

That gets a nod from Namir, who once again allows the insults to roll right off his back. Daniel might as well have given a straight answer for all the Middle-Eastern man seems to hear the remark about terrorists. The man's eyes remain locked on the board a moment, studying it before he glances up at the boy's face and smiles slightly. "Pity about the other board, but that one looks nice," he says evenly. He's vaguely aware of Seamus' watching — vaguely.

Upon hearing the terrorist comment, Seamus raises his eyebrows and watches with renewed interest, certainly expecting /some/ sort of negative reaction. When Namir shrugs off even that, the Irishman's grin widens, and he sits up a little straighter on the rail. There's almost a bounce in the movement. He also, at Namir's mention, gives the board another look. Ooh. It /does/ look nice. The fingers of his left hand flex involuntarily, and he quickly laces them with those of his right. Innocence! Really.

Daniel nods once, tapping his foot against the board's top. "It was a good board, yeah, but I've got no complaints about this one." the boy glances over tot he side, his eyes settling on Seamus. "…And I think you've got yourself a terrorist-admirer. Or maybe I do. I dunno. Either way," he raises his voice, "-he looks like he's about to fuckin' piss himself."

It's only after Daniel speaks of Seamus that Namir glances at the mechanic, his smile growing slightly and displaying sheer amusement. "Mm. So it would seem." His tone of voice is ambiguous, difficult to read, and noncommittal.

"I wouldn' say tha'," Seamus returns amiably, hopping with a /definite/ bounce down from rail and tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "'Ve go' better bladder c'ntrol'n all tha'." Grin. A couple long, easy strides bring him closer to the two, and he flashes a cocky half-smile directly at Dan. "I jus' find it ter'bly 'ilarious." What exactly he finds hilarious is left up to guess, but "Daniel" wouldn't be a bad guess.

Daniel isn't hilarious. He's smooth, and he's suave, and he's, like, the coolest thing since sliced bread. The boy grunts again. "If it's about as terribly fucking hilarious as I find your face, I think we'll all go home laughing like idiots." With a short kick, the skateboard's unbalanced end is sent shooting upwards, and the teenager deftly catches it by its upper edge.

Sean was stumbling along the promenade next to the FDR, looking at the pretty river. It was always so much nicer when he had a few drinks in him… but, unfortunately, he was a bit tipsier than he had thought, and he didn't notice the group of people talking until he tripped over a rock lying on the street and fell into a quite tall Middle-Eastern man, managing only to let out a started "shi—" before making contact.

The approach of Seamus and the interaction between the Irishman and Daniel is observed quietly by Namir — but then there's suddenly a someone knocking against him. The Muslim grunts softly and instinctively reaches out a hand to catch Sean by the shoulder to prevent the drunkard from falling to the pavement. "Ah, easy," he utters, frowning. His free hand immediately goes to his pocket, just to be sure Sean isn't a thief aiming to get something from him.

Seamus takes a quick step back at the sudden crash of the Asian into Namir, his eyebrows rising as he watches the aftermath. Namir is quick to check his pockets—and Seamus makes note of that in the back of his mind. His gaze flicks right back to Dan, however, and the grin splits his face anew, lopsided and goofy. "M'face amuses you? Tha's swell! S'only fair th'amusemen' in the makeup o' mine make up for the disappoin'men' in yours."

"Hey, /fuck you/." Because Daniel is the most mature guy around, his face only turns /half/ red, coloring in uneven blotches as the quality of his facial features is disparaged. "You'd better drop the chink and the potato-fucker, Arab. If your association continues, you're all gonna end up singing 'Whiskey in the Jar' at the bottom of the river. It'll be a goddamn multicultural /festival/."

Sean takes a step backwards, meaning to mumble something along the lines of "Sorry, man," and then leave, but he did not enjoy being called a Chink, and his inhibitions were bogged down by just enough alcohol in his system for him to turn and face the half-red-faced man, glaring and raising a fist. "Who the hell you callin' a chink?"

Namir doesn't have time to correct Daniel on the assumption of his being an Arab, because it suddenly becomes a lot less important than keeping the boy from being pummeled by the drunk Asian. The Middle-Eastern man reaches out to snag Sean's wrist and, if he succeeds, pull the drunkard back away from Daniel. "Don't," he grunts warningly. "You're a bigger man than that. Walk away."

Aw, shame. Seamus only snickers, bringing one hand out of his pocket to rub the side of his nose with the pad of his thumb. "You're no' m'type, son, sorry," he says in reply to Daniel's /mature/ and /polite/ suggestion, though his eyes go quickly over to the drunk and the ESU. "We're all bigger men'n 'im, bu' tha' doesn' mean he couldn' benefit from losin' a li'l more face." Notice the inclusion of "more" in that sentence.

Oh, snap. Now /there's/ a reaction. The threat of violence is also one that's threatening enough to cause a teenager some fright. Daniel steps quickly back from Sean, lifting his free hand defensively before shooting a glance over at Seamus. "No one asked you, jackass."

"…You're right." Sean dropped his fist, letting it relax so that Namir would release it; the adrenaline rushing through his system at the possibility of a fight sobered him up and, ironically, stopped that fight from happening. "I'm not gonna punch out some idiot kid who isn't old enough to use grown-up words." He turned towards Namir and smiled. "Thanks for catching me, twice. Owe y'one. Name's Sean, I'll see you around." And with that, the alcohol settling in his system again, he walked away, completely oblivious to anything the men did - he was thinking of one thing and one thing only: the nice, half-full bottle of tequila he had on his nighttable at home.

Good. One crisis averted. After Sean has slipped off again — and after checking his pockets a second time /just/ to be sure — Namir looks to Daniel and Seamus again, all evidence of a smile gone from his features. In its place is a stony expression, and he keeps his eyes on the pair. "That's enough," he intones to the boy, his voice calm and level. "You don't want to pick a fight you can't win."

"'E can pick all'e wants ta," Seamus chuckles, once again slipping his hand back into his pocket. "Doesn' mean 'e'll getta bite. /I'm/ no' gunna bother. /You/ dunna seem ta wan'ta either." After only a moment's pause, the mechanic leans forward as though to bring himself on level with a much shorter individual, eyes on Daniel, and his grin leans toward smirk. "'E'll jus' 'aveta find someone else ta fix'is face for 'im."

Daniel once again finds himself raising the single-finger salute, this time towards Seamus and with a snarky half-smirk on his face. "Shame no one can fix your mother. Either way, it's time I headed home." It's possible that Namir's influence is causing the boy to back down. /Possible/. He'd never admit it, though.

But it's enough for Namir, even if Daniel didn't back down in quite as /dignified/ a way as he could have. The Israeli shakes his head very slightly, the movement hardly noticeable as he watches the boy make preparations to leave again. "Be careful not to get yourself into any trouble," he states, and it sounds genuine. "And take good care of that board."

"An' 'm'sure yer mum's a righ' nice ol' bird, too," comes the redhead's response, complete with a tip of his nonexistent hat. "I'll be sure ta pass th' greetin' along next time'm 'ome for tea." Which will be never. Seamus allows himself another snicker as he straightens, giving Namir the benefit of a friendly wave before he turns back toward the rail. It's time for a stroll and more people-watching. Possibly some pickpocketing if the whim strikes, but hey, these two don't need to know that.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License