10914/Breakfast at Chin's

Breakfast at Chin's
Date of Scene:	29 January 2020
Location:	Two Bridges (Chinatown), Manhattan
Synopsis:	Jack and Faora bond over magical threats. And pancakes.
Cast of Characters:	Jack Burton, Superwoman

---

Jack Burton has posed:
Christ, it was the same damn dream he'd been having for the last three nights. The worst part about it was that that old psycho Lo Pan was in it. Dead for months and still as cryptic as ever.

"Mis-ter Bur-ton...did you truly think you would be rid of me? Know that I have cursed you with my dying breath. Your existence is an insult to my planned ascendance, and you will pay DEARLY."
"Dave, you haven't changed. You're still an old basket case and the most powerful lech I know. Which Hell do they have you in? There are so goddamn MANY..." Jack was still flippant, even in his dreams when he seemed powerless to move.
Lo Pan frowned darkly at him. "Did you think I was alone? That I would not have allies? THEY KNOW YOUR NAME!"

Jack jerked awake, hand reflexively going for the knife he killed Lo Pan with, his voice sharp and sudden. "...bring 'em, on, Dave! Give it..."
He looked around. He was in the sleeper in the Express.
"Give it your best shot, Dave. I can take it," he muttered, rubbing his face. He drew the curtain back slightly, hoping he didn't wake Faora...

Superwoman has posed:
Faora isn't asleep. She heard his mutterings in his sleep, and she heard his outburst as he awakened. Her gaze is a thousand miles long out the front windshield of the truck. She isn't wearing her armour anymore, though. She is more aptly dressed to appear as common New Yorker. Blue jeans, a black leather mini trench with buckles, and a tee shirt bearing a cartoon kitten holding a red balloon on a string. She thought it was...ironic.

"You have these dreams often," she says without looking back at Jack. It wasn't a question.

Jack Burton has posed:
Jack looked at her for a few moments, rubbing his eyes. Well, she doesn't look as imposing as she did in the black armor. Gracie had said clothes make the woman as well as the man, and these clothes...made her less imposing, but in a good way. More approachable. But he had a gut feeling that armor was what she felt most comfortable in.

"Yeah..." he said ruefully, running a hand through his hair. "Bad guy. David Lo Pan. Ancient Chinese sorcerer wanted to rule everything. First Chinese emperor cursed him hundreds of years ago. Shoulda put a knife through his skull, saved me the trouble of doing it last year." He pushed the curtain aside completely. "Dead for months and won't shut up. Says he has allies that are none too happy he isn't ruling the universe by now. He's kinda pissed." He pauses, then says, "Sorry. Pardon my language."

Superwoman has posed:
Faora waves a hand dismissively and shakes her head. "Your language does not offend me." She finally turns back to look at him. "Do you honestly think that a man like that had any allies at all who weren't his allies purely for the fact that, if they turned their back on him, he would stab them in it?"

Jack Burton has posed:
Jack shrugged. "I used to know a bunch in Jersey. Mob-connected. When you haul loads, sooner or later you're going to run into organized crime. Especially independents like me. I heard about a planned coup. Five underbosses working together to get control, but the coup failed. The ringleader got dumped into a highway support column on some recent roadwork, but the other four were left untouched. So they went after the guy who blew the coup wide open to the main boss. Purely for revenge. So yeah...I think they might be a little hacked off at the guy who derailed their gravy train."

Superwoman has posed:
Faora watches Jack for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she turns back toward the windshield and crosses her legs, remaining quiet for a moment longer.

"Then it sounds as if it's a good thing that fate brought us together."

Jack Burton has posed:
Jack smiles wryly. "I dunno about fate. But then again, I didn't know about Chinese black magic, but I know what I saw and I believe in it now. And I trusted my friend, which turned out to be the best call I could make." He looked to Faora. "Listen, I'm not going to say I know what's coming. I know better. But this kind of craziness...I mean, ANYTHING could happen. You sure you wannna sign up for that?"

Superwoman has posed:
"I signed up for craziness and anything can happen the day I set foot outside my door with the determination that I would be a guardian." Faora looks back over her shoulder at Jack. "Don't pretend that you didn't sign up for it, too."

Jack Burton has posed:
Jack chuckled. "Well, no one said, 'Time to be a hero.' One thing just...led to another. A favor for a friend turned into a gang war that turned into deciding the fate of the universe." Jack shrugged. "Well, Miss Faora...I don't see any reason I can say no. So...where do you call home, in case I want to seek you out?"

Superwoman has posed:
"I call this city home," Faora replies with the slightest of smirks. "But I'll assure you of one thing. If you are within a hundred miles of me, and call my name....I will be there before you can call a second time. But in case you're far from here..." She reaches back and hands him an item as if it is a priceless relic with which she is presenting him. It turns out to be a post-it note with her number, and a small communications device in the form of an earpiece.

Jack Burton has posed:
Jack looks at the number, then nods. "Fair enough." She must mean by using the communication thing. Simply just saying her name? That's magic in itself.

"Listen, I need breakfast. Want to join me at Jimmy Chin's? He's got a little greasy-spoon down the streets, and he makes some pretty good biscuits."

Superwoman has posed:
"Breakfast sounds like a respectable way to seal a deal," Faora replies, but she notes the way he looks at the earpiece, and she clarifies. "You can reach me with the comm, or by phone, if you are more than a hundred miles away from here. Please don't shout into either the phone or the comm. You won't need them if you are within that radius." She opens the door and begins to climb out of the truck. "I have a few more skills than I may have listed."

Jack Burton has posed:
Those are some very toned legs, Jack had to admit. She was in shape, maybe better shape than he could imagine. But then, all superheroes looked like they hit the jackpot on the genetic slot machine.
Luckily, he also had his charming personality.
Jack climbed out of the truck, sliding the knife into his boot before shutting the door and turning to Faora. "Follow me." He grinned, then began walking up the street towards Chin's.

Superwoman has posed:
Faora keeps time with Jack as he leads the way. "Do they gave the eggs and the hash browns at Jimmy Chin's? I like the eggs and the hash browns." She is looking around curiously now. She has been in this part of the city so many times, but she never really stopped just to take it in.

Jack Burton has posed:
Jack nods. "Yep. And bacon, pancakes, sausages, even chorizo sausage if you like that sort of thing...As well as some native dishes. I tend to stay aaway unless I know what I'm eating."

Chinatown has its own style. Large, colorful banners hang above street level, advertising everything from salons to shops to marketplaces where fresh vegetables, meats, poultry, and fish are hawked and purchased. On these signs, the English is at the bottom, a footnote overshadowed by the large Chinese characters. Many signs have symbols or pictures denoting what they are selling.

Jack reaches the door, then steps aside and holds it open for Faora.

Superwoman has posed:
"Thank you, Jack," Faora says softly as she moves inside, inspecting the place,and glancing at the food on other people's plates. "Are the spoons greasy, or is that a colloquialism?"

Jack Burton has posed:
Jack chuckled. "A...what you called it." He waved to the cashier, who grinned and pointed towards a table near the window, which actually has a good view of the street in bother directions. "Jimmy Chin runs a tight ship. Cleans every night, cleans the whole place top to bottom every Sunday. I think Gordon Ramsey ate here once...or was it Anthony Bordeaux? One of those big-name chefs."

Superwoman has posed:
Faora's gaze runs up and down the street as Jack points to the table. "Well, if it is good enough for Anthony Bordeaux, it's good enough for me," she replies with a glance at the menu.

Jack Burton has posed:
Jack sits as Faora sits, picking up the menu. It's not a big menu, though - one legal-sized page, double-sided.
"The good places don't have ten-page menus with 120 dishes. They have a few dishes that they do very well." He points to one. "Get what you want, I'm buyin'. I'm gonna have the Kung-Fu breakfast platter. I'm hungry."
The platter in question is substantial - two eggs, four strips of bacon or sausage, a mountain of hash browns, and a set of four buttermilk pancakes.

Superwoman has posed:
Faora narrows her eyes at the picture...particularly the pancakes. "I..will have the same. I am not certain I trust pancakes. If they prove disloyal, then you can have mine."

Jack Burton has posed:
Jack chuckles. "Pancakes are never disloyal. If they seem odd, put some butter and maple syrup on 'em. That calms them down quick."
The waitress walks up, bows slightly, and Jack says, <Two Kung-Fu Platters. Make my eggs scrambled.> He pauses, then looks to Faora. "How do you like your eggs? Sunny-side up, over easy, scrambled?"

Superwoman has posed:
"Over easy, please, Faora replies, splitting her attention between the waitress and Jack. "And peanut butter. Because I am not certain plain butter can calm down pancakes."

Jack Burton has posed:
The waitress nods, then smiles to the two of them and steps away.
"Peanut butter on pancakes? Seems a little thick for pancakes, but whatever rings your bell, Faora." He pauses, then adds, "You look good in those clothes, Faora."

Superwoman has posed:
She arches a brow, looking back up at Jack. "Thank you. The shirt is..."She trails off, looking down at it with a growing smirk, then shakes her head. "Thank you," she repeats. "Peanut butter might be the only salvation for those wimpy little cakes."