2009-12-31: New Years Interrogations



Date: December 31, 2009


Persi gets snagged by Steph for extra-inquisitive New Years celebrations.

"New Years Interrogations"

Greenwich Village & Random bar

…for Auld Lang Syne. The song, the date, the end of the old and the beginning of the new. Stephanie is out enjoying the celebration. The city that never sleeps, on the last night of the year. She's in her down jacket, her scarf, and her fur-topped boots. And she's in an oddly good mood, all things considered. Things are coming together. She heads down the street, peoplewatching as she goes.

Persi is dressed…well, the same way she always seems to be dressed, just with a black trenchcoat added overtop to keep the horrible freezing death away. She, for one, doesn't seem to be in on the celebration, looking as dour as ever; though, she's apparently interested enough to be sitting out on the street people-watching. She's perched herself on the thick stone railing-type-thing of a short stairway down from an apartment building and, out of place as she is, is simply sitting, observing the comings and goings of revelers. Stephanie catches Persi's eye for a few moments, mostly as she's one of the few people that seems to be by herself rather than in a gaggle of others, and, out of vague interest, Persi hops down once (and if) Stephanie passes on by and wanders along after her in her wake.

The blonde moves on down the sidewalk, stopping outside one of the bars there. She pauses with a thoughtful expression, before dipping in to grab a coffee, with just a little something extra. Technically it's not allowed, but she's persuasive. She steps back out, sipping from her cup.

Persi hrms and rubs her chin as she watches, but for some reason can't bring herself to do something asinine to ruin the blonde's evening. Maybe it's the festive atmosphere, maybe it's indigestion. Who knows? Either way, Persi instead opts to simply wander up when the blonde returns with her coffee and mention all blunt-like, "You realize you're doing the whole "celebration" thing all wrong, right? You're supposed to have…y'know…other people. For the fun-havings. And whatnot."

The blonde looks over to the comment, and seems more amused than anything. "Whole city full of people. Why limit myself to one group?" She considers Persi, looking her up and down, top to toe. "Besides, you're going sans other people yourself, it looks like. Or am I mistaken?"

Persi raises her eyebrows when her words are thrown back at her and raises a hand to rub sheepishly at the back of her neck "Yeah, well…I've got my reasons. I'm not really an "other people" kind of person, and celebrating costs money, and, on top of that, I'm not really a celebratey kind of person either. I mean, woo. New Year. Big deal, right?"

Stephanie smirks just a little. "I'm not usually an "other people" kind of person myself. But tonight's different. See, even if the night's not a big deal, 2009 bit. And I'm glad to see it go." She looks at Persi. "And I've got money to celebrate. So, if you don't, why not celebrate with me?" She makes the offer with more a grin than a sympathetic look.

Persi shrugs her shoulders and raises her hands a bit, palms-up in a 'what can I do?' sort of gesture, "Sure, sounds good to me. I'm never one to refuse free things; and, for all I know, maybe you'll show me what this whole celebrating thing's about." With a vague gesture down the street, Persi defers, "After you, oh mentor of celebratiness. My mind is a canvas for your great and expansive knowledge of merriness."

Stephanie snickers. "It's about getting drunk, and getting rid of your baggage, and hoping for a better year. What do I call you?" She asks, as she starts to slowly walk down the street. It's an interesting way to phrase it. Not "What's your name?", which would be more personal, and more intrusive.

Persi wrinkles her nose a tad, but introduces herself promptly, "Persi! Name's Persi. With an s-i, not a c-y. Not short for Percival or anything. Just Persi." After a moment's pause, she adds, sounding a bit sheepish once again, "What would you say if I told you I'm not generally the drinking kinda gal? Not that I'm crazy religious or anything, I just…y'know, don't."

The blonde nods. "Steph. And you don't have to generally drink to drink on New Years. It's one of the few nights of the year that you get to give yourself permission to cut loose. C'mon. It's not going to kill you."

Persi gives Steph a skeptical look, but nods just slightly, "Alright. Maybe a little. Nothing too crazy though." She stuffs her hands in her pockets now, retaining a mildly ambivalent look now that drinking is squarely in the picture, but that doesn't stop her from tagging along to wherever they're going.

Stephanie starts towards Times Square, in a slowly meandering sort of way. She stops at a corner vendor, and looks to Persi. "You don't wanna drink on an empty stomach, though. Get yourself something. So…what do you do, Persi?"

Persi takes a moment to grab a hot dog, the classic choice, with mustard and sauerkraut, then looks back to Steph, "Do? Oh, uh…well, see, this is where that whole "no money" thing comes in. Like, you get to pay for this hot dog, 'cause I do approximately nothing. I get by, though."

Stephanie nods, and pays without hesitation. "Yeah, but even homeless people do something. Usually. You don't drink, so that's weird. So how do you burn your days? Sing? Play music? Roll tourists in the park? Wander around with a sign talking about the end of the world? You gotta do something between "awake" and "asleep".

Persi grins just a tad at Steph's ready acceptance of her response, then shrugs once again, "Well, I guess I'm not your average homeless gal, otherwise I wouldn't look so damn stunning. As much as I dislike your average person, I like messing with them, both for my own entertainment and for a spare few dollars. I had a nice little deal going in the park the other day ringing a little bell and taking donations for my pocket 'til some girl came by and ruined the whole deal by being a giant bitch about it, but the way I look at it, it benefits me enormously and it hardly makes a dent in their pocketbooks, so what's the big deal, right?" That said, she takes a bite of her ever-so-free and therefore extra-delicious hot dog.

That gets a more visible smile, almost a smirk from the blonde. "Right. If you were homeless, you'd look a lot more fugly. So you've got somewhere to stay. You afford it, and enough to get by, so you make money somehow. You couldn't pull off "panhandler" without looking fugly, and I doubt you're turning tricks, so that leads us down the "thief" or "scam artist" path. I have respect for a good scam artist." It's all said oh-so-matter-of-factly. "Tell you what. Like you said, I'm shy of company tonight. We'll hit a bar, get some drinks, and you can tell me the story. And when it's done I'll make a donation to the cause depending on how entertaining it is."

Persi can't help but grin at that assessment and nods in agreement, "Sure. Sounds good to me. But, you're totally wrong at the same time. I'm a bonfide homeless-type-person. I have no fixed address, I pay no rent. I pay no bills at all, for that matter. But you're right, that's why I can't panhandle; however, the Christmas season turns panhandling into a valid business, thanks to the Salvation Army. And, yeah, admittedly, most of what I do involves less-than-voluntarily transfers of funds, but that doesn't make me any less homeless, now does it?"

Stephanie walks on with Persi. "So how do you manage to avoid the funk? You aren't washing your clothes and yourself in fast food bathrooms, I can tell that much. Hotels would be too pricey. So you've either got a white-knight benefactor…maybe some guy you've scammed…or you've got another hook. Which is it?"

Persi takes another bite and takes her time chewing and whatnot before she finally answers that one, "Well, y'see, think of it like…CIA work or something. All ya gotta do is stake a place out, figure out when people come and go, and just slip in and do your business while they're out at work. Then, whenever somebody gets all suspicious about why the washing machine's going while Bob's off pushing papers, I just slip out the back way and find a new place. It's a helluva lot of work, but it keeps me looking like this compared to all my mangy compatriots. Plus, if you can find people what're on vacation, it's like a damn hotel stay."

Stephanie raises an eyebrow in Spock-like fashion. "So you're staking people's homes out, you break in while they're out, and help yourself. Damn, that's ballsy. Profitable, though, I'd imagine, if you're lifting a few goodies when you do it."

Persi nods slowly and waves one hand subtly, "But "breaking in" makes it sound so brutish. I don't BREAK anything, I just slip in all unnoticed and sneaky-like. And I try not to steal things, but if I find one that looks particularly well-off or if I'm having a hard time, then yeah, I'll take whatever I need. Not like the cops are gonna put out an APB on a coat."

Stephanie snickers. "You can't "slip in" through a locked door without breaking in, babe. It's just not how it goes. And this is New York City. People don't just go around leaving their doors unlocked." She stops outside a bar. "I think here. Too close to Times Square tonight and it's gonna be nuts."

"Well, yeah, true enough." Persi stops and eyes the bar for a second, then nods in assent, "Sounds good to me. The less crowd the better; though, I think by my definition of crowd, we're going to get a crowd no matter where we go." That said, she opens the door and gesture for Steph to lead the way, "Did I mention I'm gallant and chivalrous, too? I'm like the Wonder-Homeless."

Stephanie smirks. "Plus, it puts my back to you, rather than the other way around. Though, if you try and pick my pocket, I'm gonna be pissed." She steps into the bar. "So what's your poison of choice?":

Persi folllows Steph in harmlessly enough, smirking as she does, "What's the point of picking your pocket when you're shelling out willingly enough already?" At the question, she pauses and looks stumped, "Uh. Hell, I don't drink, how'm I supposed to know? Give me whatever you think I'd like. Something that isn't gonna put me on my ass, please and thank you."

Stephanie smiles. "Long Island Ice Tea. Good drink for a beginner." Because it doesn't really taste alcoholic, which makes it much easier to get people drunk without realizing it. She heads to one of the tables, and sits. "So, why the dropout lifestyle? You an illegal immigrant, or just a rebel at heart?"

Persi follows along and takes a seat, giving the Iced Tea an odd look, mostly because she's not a fan of iced tea, but when she sips it, her eyebrows go up a tad, "Ooh, not bad. How'd you know I liked sour stuff?" Only then does she answer the query, first with a slight nod, "Yeah, that. The second one. I don't really see the point of working my whole life at some company so I can pop out a kid and watch it do the same thing. No offense, if that's what you're up to."

Stephanie laughs. "Nah. I'm actually…sort of between jobs at the moment. Not like I'm in a hurry. But do I /look/ like the mommy-and-picket-fence type to you?" Actually, she might, given her current appearance. But hey, risks of the trade.

"Eh, well, I take a 'guilty until proven innocent' stance on the mommy thing, so you look as much like mom material as anyone else to me. And, wait, you're between jobs? Why're you grilling me so hard about MY not having a job if you're just the same? Geez…" As much as she's been talking, Persi takes another sip or three to wet things down a bit.

The blonde laughs. "Maybe I'm just looking for tips of the trade." She'll drink little, while letting Persi drink lots. "You must have some schtick to be successful at it."

Persi, unfortuantely, has neither the body mass nor the experience to handle her alcohol particularly well, so it's not long before she starts to show a few signs of being slightly tipsy. She waves one hand dismissively and grins lopsidedly at the mention of a schtick, "I'm just BETTER than everybody else, 's'why nobody else does it! I just come and go like a friggin' ghost and nobody knows the difference. 'ssgreat."

Stephanie keeps the alcohol flowing, just for the fun of it. "So where'd you get so good at picking locks?" she asks, sipping her (actual) ice tea. "Not exactly a common skill."

Persi furrows her brow a little for a second, looking confused at that, "Picking locks? I d—ohhh, yeah. Right. I uh…I learned. From a guy. Friend of mine…" She furrows her brow more after that, now looking more concerned than confused, "Sorry, think I might be gettin' a little tipsy. Maybe I should lay off." She eyes her drink after that, suspicious of the stuff, despite the fact that she's already had two and a half of the damn things.

Stephanie catches the slip, of course. This has become a fun game. "Pfft. It's New Years. You're allowed. So if you don't, how are you getting in?" Sweet smile. Innocent blonde.

Persi rubs her forehead for a second, both upset with herself for slipping up and taking a moment to think before she answers this time, "Like I said, I just slip in. Why're you so innerested? Just be merry already! You're supposed to be the party girl." Sip.

Stephanie grins. "I am! That's why /I/ am not slurring my words all over the place. Like some people. So you just walk right in, like the cat who walks through walls, huh?" Geeky Heinlein reference. "And I'm plenty merry!"

Persi scowls at the reference and stabs a finger in Steph's direction with sudden vigor, "Oh, naw, screw Heinlein, my parents made me read that crap growing up, nnthat bastard doesn know whenta stop describin' shit." After a prolonged scowl, she shakes her head once again, "An'no, no walking through walls, jus' doors. They open it, I walk in. Or I juss take the key, whichever."

Stephanie looks back, another spocked eyebrow there. "Heinlein is a god. His stuff is awesome. So what, everybody just goes and /invites/ you in?" She puts some derision in that, sounding disbelieving.

Persi shakes her head vigorously and slumps forward a little with a sigh, "Nooo, no. Ocourse not. You just…you just wouldn understand. Just suffice it t'say I get inside, okay? If that's nod enough for ya, I dunno what to tell ya." With that, she finishes off her third tea, eyeing the empty glass.

Stephanie chuckles. "Hey, just asking." She looks at the empty glass. "You might wanna get yourself home, though. I wouldn't try eating or drinking anything else, you look a little green about the gills." Plus, by not eating or drinking water, she'll have a much worse hangover, and hey, Steph's just a giver sometimes.

Persi snickers just a tad at that and leans forward more to fold her arms on the table and set her head thereupon, "Right, home. Think I'll just…take a l'il rest right here 'til they get tired of me bein' here, then I'll figure it out from there. Don't think I'm in any shape to be finaglin' my way into a place to stay for the night. Toldja I should stopped." However, she does take the advice and push the glass away, naively ready to abstain from more food'n'drink.

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