Starring:
Date: October 21, 2009
Summary:
While waiting for her appointment, Elena chances upon her new neighbor. This time, all bets are off on.
"The Rewards of Persistence"
The Eight Ball Pool Hall, Downtown New York City
Everyone loves pool. That should be a rule somewhere in life. Everyone loves sitting around watching men and women lean over tables to carefully line up shots that then don't go where they are supposed to so they can have an excuse to hiss curses and drink beer. Even near the upscale condos of the Parkview Estates there are places that /cater/ to this driving need of the human mind. It's not as smoky or as rundown as some, and all the lights seem to work. The music that’s piped in over crisp speakers isn't country either…
Thank God for small miracles.
Nicholas Drake leans on his cue at a table nearer to the entrance of the bar with a slight smirk on his face. "Come on Mac, it's your break." He calls tauntingly to his opponent. A man with a tall and wide man with a military haircut who mock-glowers at the slightly smaller Nick. The big man wears an off- duty military uniform. Army it looks like.
"Dammit Drac, you /always/ win at this damn game and you know it. It's like you /cheat/ or somethin'!"
"Come on man!" Nick replies easily as he reaches out to sip on a beer that dangles from one hand. "How can you cheat in /pool/."
—
It is a purely solo game.
The dive is one of the many places in the city where she felt absolutely anonymous. Clad in jeans and a tank top, with her jacket tied around her waist, Elena appears to be engaged in a game all on her lonesome… a far cry from the way she used to socialize. These days, she was more comfortable spending time alone, unless she's with her close circle of friends. Odd, how much can change in a year, but true to form, the young woman takes it in stride. She's absently chalking up her pool cue, the blue dust blown from the top before lining up a shot.
The brief flash of gold in her predominantly obsidian eyes may go unnoticeable as she slams the stick against the cue ball and sends it rocketing across green felt, breaking the triangle of balls and scattering it in every direction.
She could feel eyes on her, from the bar - it's nothing unusual and she bore the occasional glances or the downright stares with good grace, watching one or two sink in the pockets. Blowing a lock of hair from her eyes, she maneuvers around the table to line up for her next shot. The rest of the room might as well not exist, with the way her eyes narrow in focus.
And there are stares. From all around the bar. Men's eyes drawn like a hunters to prey as they not that single woman playing all alone. Some are getting up the courage to approach, some taking the time to stalk her. Some just watching and enjoying the show. A pack at the bar push one forwards, egging him on…
That is until a specific pair of eyes fall on the woman playing pool all by herself.
"Hey Mac…you got this game, I'll catch up with ya later." He drawls out as he bounces the pool cue on the floor for a moment before leaning it against his shoulder and starting to stroll over towards the woman playing all by herself. This leaves him with a big group of glares and grumblings from the rest of the bar. All of which Nicholas Drake ignores.
Peons.
…alright. Maybe he's been hanging out with Max too much.
"You know Elena," His voice comes from behind the woman as a smirk curls up one corner of his mouth and his head tilts ever so slightly from the side. "Playing pool all alone is bad luck. Or so I've heard."
—
"Hi, neighbor."
Elena greets him without even looking up, having sensed his approach before he even said a word. Perhaps she was psychic, or perhaps she's more alert than she seems… truthfully the illusion serves, she recognizes his voice, as always blessed with an elephantine memory and a penchant for names. She draws the cue back, and knocks a ball into a pocket, straightening up so she could turn and look at him. "What are you doing here? Don't you work? And did you leave Storm by himself?"
Despite appearances, she was working. Her appointment, unfortunately, has not showed. Stabbing the blunt end of the cue on the floor, she props her free hand on her hip. She takes a glance towards the bar area, to see if he's with other people - but it doesn't look like it, so her eyes gravitate back to him. "And how are you? After the ….forty-eight hours since I've seen you?"
When he tells her it's bad luck to play pool by herself, she lifts her brows. "Let me guess," she quips. "Old Irish saying?" It was BS. She knows it, but she plays along, an amused tinge on her mouth.
—
"Of course it's on old Irish saying," Nick replies easily enough as he watches the woman. "Since it /is/ an old Irish saying like most it can change as the needs fit it." He says with a wink towards the woman. Oh he's not working it seems. Not now at least, not as dressed down as he is. "And typical reporter aren’t you? Right into the questions." He flashes the woman an easy smile before shrugging his shoulders once. "Off today." He says by way of explanation. "Thought I'd go out and see a few friends while they were on leave, and yeah he is. Ran him good this morning so he should be sleeping it off at the condo."
As her eyes flicker up he raises one eyebrow towards the woman. "…meeting someone?" He asks curiously as he leans back on his heels for a moment. Entirely relaxed it seems, not bothered by the frowns he's getting from the bar or the rolling eyes of his friend Mac who goes and turns attention back to his own game and not towards Nick's.
"I've been better. Shouldn't have stayed up playing Iron Drinking Chef with a friend of mine last night," He says wryly towards the woman with a shake of his head. "After half the show you don't even remember the damnable rules. Anyway though…since you /don't/ want to go against one of those old Irish saying…why don't I join you for a game or two."
—
"Typical, yes," Elena replies, and despite herself, she can't help but feel her grin curl grudgingly upwards at the banter provided. "Besides, you didn't have to come over here and say hello. Now you know what I do for a living, common sense ought to entail that you're only opening yourself up to further grilling if you continue to associate yourself with me. So you really only have yourself to blame." She tilts her head at him, her smile growing all the toothier as she provides him the verbal one-two punch. "And day off? Lucky," she says approvingly. "It's important to take some time off for yourself."
She glances down towards where he's gesturing, when he mentions looking a few buddies up. "Just someone I work with at the office, but I think something might've come up. He's late." She digs into her pockets, to produce the cherry-red cell phone and peering at it. Nothing. "Huh…. I guess he'll show up when he can." Stowing it away, she returns her gaze to Nick… and laughs when he mentions he could've been better. "No wonder you took a day off, you're probably hungover!" she exclaims.
When he asks to join her, she tosses the rack towards him, the little triangle making quick work of his reflexes. "Sure," she replies. "It's been a while since I played against anyone. Though since you offered, you get to set it up for a new game."
—
"True, true," Nick allows as his hand clicks up to snap the rack out of the air. Reflexes are still good it seems, a holdover from his military days as he hardly batted an eyelash at the toss. "I did open the floor for the questions just by coming over here. I guess you're an irresistible enigma wrapped in a questions wrapped in a cheeseburger." Pause. "Or something like that." He says with a wink towards her and a half-laugh half-grin on his face for a moment. "I guess a game is worth opening myself up for more questions. Yes though, lucky. That’s me." Lucky he didn't get /shot/ last night that is.
"Stood you up eh? Terrible thing, terrible thing," He adds as he circles the table and starts to rack up the balls in preparation for the game. "Well glad I'm here to help you pass the time." A mock-affronted look then crosses his face. "I'm Irish! We never get /hungover/. We just get mildly more cranky on some mornings."
As he stands up from the racking he smirks as he pulls the rack away with a flourish. "Your break then."
"Look out girlie! Drac there cheats! Don't put money on anything!" That would be Mac from halfway across the bar.
"Not helping Mac! Not helping!"
—
"Cheeseburgers are divine creations, so I'll take that as a compliment," Elena replies with a grin. No salad for her, it looks like. "Though I have to wonder what the catch is, if you're going to let me grill you."
An eyebrow lifts upwards at that, inclining her head towards Nick. She doesn't have to say it, but the expression is there. Trap. A total trap. But she's playing along because it clearly amuses her, and it's been a while since she's actually spoken to anyone who she didn't really know already. Part of her wonders, that niggling feeling - maybe it wasn't the time to be making friends with strangers. It would be rude, however, to send him away while he's being so affable and ingratiating.
So she turns to line up her shot. "I won't!" she reassures Mac, just as she clacks the tip of her cue into the ball and breaks the triangle effortlessly. The woman might be stronger than she looks, or she's played enough times to be able to break the set properly. Straightening up, she walks along the side once the solid, yellow ball sinks into a pocket. "I guess I get solids," she tells him, leaning over and angling her pool cue to line up another shot.
"I think he's just running late," she tells him. "It's about work and we've got things to finish." She looks up and quirks a faint smile towards him. "So who won your drinking game?"
—
"As you should, as you should," Nick replies with a smirk coloring his words. "What do I get out of letting you grin me?" He reaches out to take a sip of his beer and smirks once towards her. "Besides watching you bend over a table every so often when you make your shots you mean?"
Yes. A total trap, but a amusing and entertaining one. He /is/ indeed affable, and brazen both isn't he. He's enjoying this it seems as she takes that first break. Concentrating on her movements for just a moment as his eyes dart to the yellow ball as it sinks into the pocket with a soft sound. "Very nice. Yup. Solids." He says as he watches the woman line up a second shot. He hrmmms for a moment before he smirks. "So. Shall we put something on the game?" He asks easily.
"Alright then, don't want to mess with your work…and besides. One reporter is more than enough for me to deal with." He hrmmms for a second. "Well like most drinking games I think everyone won. We called it on account of lack of booze in the end."
—
"You know, there was a time in my life when I'd be easily embarrassed by comments like that," Elena muses, though her eyes don't gravitate back to him, forward and locked onto her target at present, the purple ball within her sights. "Now I just figured men will always look - so long as they don't touch when they're not wanted, I think I can live with it." She looks up and smiles ruefully. "Besides, if I took offense to every man who looked at me wrong, I'd probably be dead by now." She snaps her cue forward, and while the ball rolls forward, it misses the mark, bouncing off the corner and rolling to a stop away from the pocket.
She snaps her fingers quietly at the near miss. "Something? You mean like a bet?" She plants a hand on her hip, and gives him a wary look. "….alright, what are you proposing?"
She gestures for him to take his turn at the pool table, though she laughs at his last statement. "So in other words, you lost and you didn't want to admit it because you're Irish?" she teases.
—
"Well you /do/ blush well so I'm sorry to miss that," Nick replies with a smirk towards her as he watches again her line up an excellent shot. "Hopefully you'll give me a shot sometime…" He drawls before he notes the ball miss its mark just slightly and he smirks. "There we go. I /do/ get a shot." he murmurs towards the woman before he laughs. "Or at least you would get into a lot more fights." He adds as he swings his own cue down and saunters up to the table. A glance around and he angles his shot from the white ball to one with a blue stripe. Leaning down he aims easily towards him before reaching back the cue and launching the shot forwards. It sinks into the pocket with a firm thunk. "There we go…" He mutters to himself.
"Yeah…kinda like a bet…" He says with a smirk towards her. "I don't know. Dinner maybe?" He says with a wink towards the woman. "And before you say anything, yes I am persistent."
A slight sigh towards her before he smirks at the woman. "Damn you, you see right though me don't you?" He grins once before he nods towards the woman. "Yeah I think he would have won if we would have kept going."
—
"Well I can hold my own," Elena replies. "But I don't go looking for trouble - usually it finds me." Understatement of the century, but she waits when he lines up his shot and sinks it. A small smirk, and her brows lift slightly at seeing it. The game might be a little more challenging than she initially thought. It's still his turn, so she waits by his glass of beer, sliding her hands in her pockets. "I lived in Queens most of my life. It was a pretty rough neighborhood, that deep in New York. You don't grow up Mexican without knowing a thing or two about getting in a fight."
At least, until she learned she didn't really have to punch someone to inflict some damage, the thought of which barely registers. There had been a time in which she feared her abilities. Now…
When he mentions dinner again, she laughs. "We're betting dinner?" she reiterates. "You mean someone's cooking, or someone's buying?" She hesitates, at that, catching herself in the throes of mild flirtation and wondering a) why he's so persistent and b) why she's entertaining the notion. Things were a little hectic, he was nice and well-meaning while she was some kind of walking, breathing freak of genetics. Did she really want to get in that kind of trouble?
Peter's a Company agent and he's -still- got the time to moon over somebody…
The thought of it jerks at her insides. Squaring her shoulders, she flashes him a smirk. "You're on," she tells him. "It's still your shot. Put your money where your mouth is."
—
"That’s usually how trouble is," Nick replies towards the woman as he circles around the table to get at his next shot. Red stripe this time. He hrmmms for a moment before he leans forwards to get the angle right. It's a smooth motion as he draws back the cue and then lets it rocket forwards to knock the white in the red and…
…and miss. Just by a slight inch.
"Damn…" He shakes his head slightly. "…well I lived all over the world. I don't think growing up Irish though is easier in the fighting department than what you had." He adds with a wink towards her. "Yes. Cooking /or/ buying. Winner's choice." He adds as he stands up and away from the table to let her have that shot of hers.
Ah, he knows about those abilities. He doesn't give any clue to that though…or to the fact that she isn't the only one that’s a little bit different. A little bit better. That he doesn't have to punch someone to hurt them either.
He can always just shoot them.