2008-01-01: Watch Out For Those Trees!


Jane_icon.gif Charlotte_icon.gif

Summary: A meeting in Central Park.

Date It Happened: January 1, 2008

Log Title Watch Out For Those Trees!

Central Park

She's been on the move for a few days now, since the events outside that coffee shop, with her message to Peter Petrelli having gone unreturned. The photo that man had, taken of her inside her kitchen, has caused Jane to use other lodgings for the time being, and not the same hotel on two consecutive nights. During this time, while hoping to make contact with allies and investigate the situation, she's been living her life. Last night, the New Year was celebrated at a party held by her recording studio in the Village.

Today is free, though, and the five foot eight inch tall brunette, clad in jeans, boots with a two inch heel, heavy winter coat, and gloves with the fingertips cut out is in the park. Over one shoulder is a guitar case, the other a backpack.

Charlotte is dressed more or less as described, except she has a pea coat on. Though what may be more unusual is HOW she gets here…she comes a'stumblin' out from the bushes. Yep, there's just a girl, few twigs in her hair, coming out of the bushes. "Ow…leggo." She says of a tree limb that doesn't seem to wish to allow her to leave. She pulls free, stumbling onto the path. "Missed…" She murmers, more worried about yanking the various bits of kindling from her pikie cut than anything else.

She has her eyes set on a bench not far away, thinking to sit there and play some tunes despite the cold air, when her attention is drawn to this person emerging from the forestry. One of the twenty-something brunette's eyebrows lifts as she watches this, then shakes her head and chuckles. There are all kinds in New York City.

Jane reaches the bench and sets her case on the ground, then the pack, and proceeds to extract the instrument. As she slips it over her shoulders, a small amp can be seen in there along with several copies of Black Canary.

Charlotte finally manages to shake the last of the branches off of her (although she still has a twig or two in her hair) and she stands on the path, hands on hips, looking proud as anything as she looks around. WEll that was fun, wasn't it. But this must be Central Park! What a pretty looking place. Noticing in her rapture that her shoe has come undone, however, the woman makes her way to the same bench, sitting down next to Jane and giving her a polite dimpled smile. "Hi." She says, bending over to tie that unruly shoe.

"Morning," the woman replies with a quiet laugh as she watches Charlotte sit and tie her shoe. She gets out the small amp and plugs in, then fingers go about the business of tuning up her red Fender Strat. "You were climbing and fell out, or couldn't find a solid handhold to use?" Her eyes are wary and alert, but Jane's face is calm enough. Her features, seen at this distance, are on the pale side with some red to her cheeks from the cold air.

Charlotte sits up. "Hmm?" She asks, laying her hands on her legs. "Oh…um." Shit. Quick. This is why she's not supposed to do shit like that. But..but…"Yeah. Just missed what I was reaching for. Kind of sucks being a munchkin." Refering to her shortness. "It wasn't….THAT noticable, was it?"

"You're not that short," Jane replies with a grin. "I'm five-eight, and you're the height of most women. Five-five or six, maybe," she assesses. "I pay attention to what's around me, is all. So I saw you come out of the trees." While speaking, she continues tuning up.

Charlotte shrugs a little. "Maybe I just feel short then, or I wear shoes that are too flat all the time." She looks over at the girl, leaning foreward a bit as she watches the girl play with the guitar. "So you…come out here and play? A street performer, how cool is that! "Isn't it a bit cold out here to come out here and sit?" THe girl curls up a bit more in her coat to prove a point

"I like to play in public when the mood strikes," Jane replies, "and where it strikes." Her tuning check is finished, the fingers go still. "It's the purest form of professional music. No middlepeople; just me, the instrument, and the audience. They pay if they like it, if not they don't." Her case is left open, possibly for that purpose, although by the look of her she doesn't seem to need the money. One hand pulls some stray hair from her face as she speaks.

Charlotte can't help but smile as she listens. "It's so neat that you're so passionate about that. I notice that happens a lot around here. I haven't been in New York much but everyone seems so passionate about something. It's wonderful."

Her face breaks out into a wider grin and fingers start to move on the strings and frets, Jane chooses a Sinatra tune. Her opinion of New York is expressed in the chords she plays, and in the voice which provides lyrics. Vocally, she's of the Pat Benatar/Ann Wilson/Joan Jett variety, and her playing style is definitely rock. With the instrument, skill from years of experience is unmistakable, she's nailing it flawlessly today.

"Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today…"

Charlotte grins wider as she listens, pulling her legs up and hugging them to her, crossing them to sit indian style on the bench as she listens. The grin causes two little dimples to show up in her own rosy cheeks, which sit comfortably and happily on her pale face from the cold, same as Jane.

It's New York, New York she plays, the lyrics sounded out with enthusiasm. "I wanna be a part of it…" It takes a few minutes to complete, and when she reaches the end her fingers go still again. This, one can easily guess, would be the purpose of having the ends of her gloves missing. To hold the pick better, and have dexterity.

Charlotte smiles as the song finishes. "How lovely! And so appropriate, thank you." She loves New York, she's sure, and the nice little song just made her happier. The girl stands, dropping a wrinkly five into the girl's open case. "You should try to stay warm though." She moves to stand.

"I'm warm enough," Jane answers with a laugh. Her eyes settle on the five in the case and she bends to pick it up. In doing so, her hair falls to one side and a gap appears between her coat and the back of her neck. In that short amount of time, something becomes visible; a pair of parallel marks, the same length and dark in color just where they'd be difficult to see by the person bearing them.

Charlotte frowns as she leans foreward a bit. "Did you hurt your neck?" She asks. "Those are the strange cuts." She says, perfectly curious. She couldn't help but ask, it's just the way she is. There is a slight inflection of concern in her voice as well, even for the stranger.

They aren't cuts, this is easy to tell. But what they are, exactly, is harder to guess. Jane looks at the woman for a long moment, one hand going around to that spot, and touches it briefly. "Oh, those, no, something hot got me there once." She doesn't seem at all inclined to discuss them much. The cash is tucked into a pocket.

Charlotte continues to look at the marks until the girl is sitting up properly. "They look really painful. Does it hurt?" She asks, standing up fully in front of her.

"No," she answers quietly. "They don't now. But they weren't so much fun at the time." Which is a lie in part, she has no memory of getting them, but also truthful enough. It wasn't fun at all. Jane's eyes settle back on the instrument and move lightly, as if she were thinking of another tune to play, maybe even something improvised on the fly.

Charlotte nods softly. "Well be careful then." She tells the girl with a smile, giving her a little wave again. She turns and starts to walk back to where she climbed out of the bushes from.

"You too," Jane calls with a laugh. "Watch out for those trees!" Maybe the departing one is Georgina of the Jungle. Playing resumes, and continues for a half hour or so, until the guitarist decides it's too frickin' cold and moves along.

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