1239/Danny and Daken Go Shopping

Danny and Daken Go Shopping
Date of Scene:	01 July 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Iron Fist, Daken

---

Iron Fist has posed:
The Golden Shopping Mall on 41st and Main St. is well-known for being one the go-to spots in the city for all things Chinese. It's not Chinatown, though. Just a strip mall with a supermarket, some home good stores, and authentic restaurants. All run by hard-working immigrant families who have carved a nook for themselves in the shadow of Shea Stadium.

In one of these restaurants sits Danny Rand, crouched in front of a bowl of his favorite dan dan noodles. The best in the city! It's been a long week of work, and the young C.E.O. decided to head out to Queens to get away from heavier bustle of Manhattan. He's not as noticeable in his t-shirt and denim, but he does stand out in the sea of Asians. That's how you know a place is good, they say.

Danny expertly mixes his noodles when they arrive, because despite K'un-Lun being so closed off, the cooks there knew how to whip up some Sichuan food. Around him are several empty spots at a long, communal dining table.

Daken has posed:
Daken, in some ways, stands out less. In others, he stands out far more. His distinctive hairstyle and sense of fashion make it hard for him to blend into any group, Asian or otherwise; his mixed heritage also means that he bears features of both his parents' ethnicities.

Really, it's more his attitude, his way of moving, the way he seems to fit into the situations he finds himself in. Maybe Danny fits in that way, and in that, he'll probably have it in common with Daken. There's not a moment's hesitation before he seats himself right next to the blond, glancing over at his food.

"Looks good," Daken rumbles, smile spreading slowly across his lips. And while the noodles smell good, Daken smells even better somehow. Not that Danny would want to have him for lunch or anything, just...someone who knows the perfect fragrance, apparently, for his body's system. Or something. It doesn't *smell* like cologne exactly. But then there are so many scents in the air.

With a glance to the side, then back to Danny, Daken continues. "What's your recommendation? I'm hungry and I need satisfaction."

Iron Fist has posed:
Danny leans in to smell the bowl of noodles. Chopsticks in one hand, a wide spoon in the other, and he's ready to dig in. He snags some noodles and drags them to his mouth, slurping them up with zero shame. Slurping them up like all the aged, single diners seated around him.

When Daken takes a seat, Danny glances over with a gaze that lingers just slightly longer than usual. Maybe it's the outfit (Danny loves it) or the hair (same) or just the fact that the stranger is, well, interested in chatting. How rare!

"Oh, they're great," Danny says, once the noodles have been devoured. He flags down a roaming waitress and orders another in perfect Chinese. "If you don't like them, they're on me," he tells Daken, turning to take his first good look at the man.

Daken has posed:
It's not the rarest thing that someone has offered to buy Daken lunch, but it's a source of delight to him that not only does this blond-haired, blue-eyed, American-looking guy he just met come here to eat, but he also speaks Chinese and is willing to swallow not only the surely delicious noodles, but also the cost for them, whether or not a veritable stranger actually likes them at all.

It makes him laugh, and it's a rare mirthful laugh that he gives, running a hand through his wild hair and letting it settle back down. It takes a special kind of person to wear hair like that and pull it off. "Really! Do you always buy strange men noodles?" It's a very gentle tease, affectionate in tone. Is he a little closer than he was a second ago? Probably, he's making no effort to disguise his moves. "Maybe the world could use more of that kind of generosity. So...at the risk of sounding like a stereotype, do you come here often?"

He lowers his voice, quieting slightly and speaking in a rougher sort of Chinese, but something that Danny should be able to decipher. "You have such a graceful way of speaking."

Iron Fist has posed:
The laugh catches Danny off guard. Lots of people laugh at him, though maybe less-so now than when he first returned from K'un-Lun. Still, it always makes him a little defensive. Daken doesn't seem to be teasing him, though, so he calms straightaway and says, "Not really," as a response to probably everything Daken has said, "But they're the best I've had in the city."

Danny takes a moment to just watch Daken. There's something definitely different about the man. Or maybe it's just rare for Danny to just sit and have a conversation with someone who isn't in a suit or a costume. Either way, it teases out a bit of chi from the living weapon. Just to get a feel for anything off...or not.

"Thanks," he says, continuing the Mandarin. "I lived abroad for a while." A smile there as he seems to ask about Daken without saying anything more.

Daken has posed:
"I've spent a lot of time abroad." It's almost a fatuous sort of thing to say, but it also seems to fit Daken's whole mien. His way of doing things seems to be just taking things as they come and saying whatever comes to mind.

Daken does have a kind of tremendous aura about him. He's certainly alive, and not in a way that most are -- it's like super-alive, radiant with vibrant energy. He's got to be the kind of guy that never, ever gets sick with anything. And he looks so relaxed, but there's also an aspect of his way of carrying himself as he sits there that looks unmistakably like somebody who commands his body with a supreme discipline.

"Thank you. I'm better at Japanese, but...I hung around Madripoor for a while. Sorry..." Daken shakes his head, actually looking almost self-conscious. "I know it's a little rough. I'm called Daken."

Iron Fist has posed:
The response Danny gets from his chi probe doesn't reveal anything overtly superhuman about Daken, but it does give Danny a good sense of what he's dealing with. Danny responds by changing his posture, straightening up a bit and turning his body to more comfortable converse with the stranger.

"I'm Danny," he offers as a piping hot bowl of noodles are set in front of Daken. That's his cue to eat again, so the young businessman goes at another string of noodles laced with oil and bits of meat.

After swallowing that down, he says (in Japanese), "Don't worry. My Japanese are a little rust, too."

Daken has posed:
Daken gives another chuckle, though this one's a more controlled, sedate, and quieter laugh than his earlier one. "Danny!" He transitions smoothly and easily to Japanese, speaking carefully, but with the accent and the proficiency level of a native speaker. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. Wow...*that* is impressive, Danny."

When the noodles arrive, Daken gives a grateful nod to the server and picks up chopsticks, snapping them neatly apart before bowing his head for a moment. It's not quite a prayer, but Danny will probably recognize it as a Japanese idiosyncrasy; at least, it's an idiosyncrasy to those who aren't around it all the time. He digs right in, probably not doing it perfectly correctly, but he definitely knows his way around a bowl of noodles. "Oh yeah," he flutters his lashes. "MmmmmMMMMMmmmm. That's *amazing*. You've got good taste."

And then he laughs again, but this time it's a little louder. He gestures at himself, towards his face, with his sticks. "Too bad, you probably won't like me. I'm just a mongrel."

Iron Fist has posed:
Danny smirks and shakes his head. "No," he says, reverting back to English. "Maybe with some practice, but not right now." Some more noodles are gobbled up and Danny smiles, both at the taste and the compliments.

"Well, thanks again," he says, a soft laugh escaping him. He seems almost shy at the moment, a strange feeling that he shakes off. "What's the matter with mongrels?" he asks, half-jokingly, with a smile offered Daken's way. "All souls have their beautiful sides along with their dark ones."

A pause. Then, "Are you here to stay, then, or just passing through?"

Daken has posed:
Is this guy for real?! Daken isn't sure, and it's that uncertainty that makes him hesitate and catches him so off-guard. He looks offended for a split-second, but then he catches himself. His eyes narrow, and he almost frowns...but then he raises his eyebrows and just stares in Danny's direction.

He *is* for real! He's being totally honest. So earnest, like pretty much goes unseen in this day and age, and especially in this city. What, has Daken stumbled upon the Bodhisattva of Queens somehow?!

It grinds Daken's gears a little. He's pretty sure he's blushing at least slightly, but that's mainly because the responses he gets and thus response he was expecting are never anywhere near so genuine and well thought out.

But he recovers quickly enough, going back to take another scoop of noodles. "Don't you how how strays are? They stay wherever they can find a place to sleep, for as long as they can do it." It's only slightly self-effacing, but the smile that accompanies it makes it clear it's at least partially a joke.

Iron Fist has posed:
Yes, Danny is for real. So for real that he doesn't even realize it came out of his mouth until it was too late. He learned quickly that, in the New York City, most people just don't appreciate that sort of "hippy-dippy" talk. But Daken seems to. Maybe. So, Danny doesn't edit himself. He just rides the conversation. And eats.

"Oh, I know strays," Danny says, nodding. "I was one myself for a while. Luckily, I found a place to crash," he winces slightly here, "for a while."

More noodles are devoured as the blond turns from Daken to attack his bowl. He's definnitely hungry. Or looking for a distraction.

Daken has posed:
It's hard for Daken to accept, at least at first. Eventually, he decides on a track and sticks with it, easing into it slowly. He doesn't have to have every situation planned out to the nth degree. It's far more fun to meet a person who doesn't do the expected thing and even does some extremely *un*expected things. That depends on the person, naturally, but Danny feels different than the ones that end up being annoyingly predictable yet somehow sanctimonious.

He can't stand those types.

So he moves right along. Daken really seems to like those noodles. He certainly eats them eagerly enough, along with Danny. His eyes wander over the man's form, and he decides: yeah, he's obviously a fighter. That's not the kind of body you get from being a child of wealth with nothing better to do, and it's also not the kind of body that indicates "cultivated for photos or the stage". Or the pole, for that matter.

"I'm surprised," Daken answers back. "I'd figure you're the kind of guy with more friends than he can count and they're all desperate to have you stay with them. I'll bet you're popular, too. How many girls am I making resent me by being lucky enough to share lunch with you, Danny?" His grin is only slightly wicked as he asks.

Iron Fist has posed:
Danny eats most of his noodles before setting his chopsticks on the rim of the bowl. He reaches for a tissue from a container in the middle of the table, pulls it out, and cleans off his hands. Then, he turns to Daken.

"What are you doing the rest of the day?" he asks, purposefully avoiding Daken's line of questioning. It's a topic that's been on his mind a lot lately, friendship. When he thinks hard about it, he actually feels like he doesn't have any. Business partners, sure. Even a couple friendly superhero encounters. But...friends? He left those behind in K'un-Lun. "It's Saturday and I have nowhere to be."

Daken has posed:
At every juncture of this encounter, Danny seems to be defying any expectations of what Daken would believe to be a reasonable development in the conversation. He asks him about friends and paramours, and that gets him invited to do something?

It's implied, sure, but heavily implied!

"Nothing." Daken answers, simply enough. His initial urges had been to pursue some line of easy marks somewhere and get some benefit from it, but he can certainly roll with this. Why not? The company of this curious, surprisingly attractive Danny is better than just being cynical and utilitarian. Pragmatism is overrated! "Did you want to do something? I don't really know a lot to do in the city, these days."

Iron Fist has posed:
Danny is a little surprised at the development, too, but he seems comfortable with it. Daken wouldn't know it, but the young man is actually used to a slower-paced kind of life, one in which strangers would converse, take a stroll, and just let the day unfold. That's not exactly how life goes in the city, but maybe today can be different.

"Maidan!" Danny shouts as he reaches into his back pocket for a slim leather wallet. From it, he takes out a heavy credit card and hands it to the nearest server.

"Doesn't matter," Danny tells Daken. "There's a park around here somewhere. Let's head that way and see what we run into."

Daken has posed:
It's not how life has been for Daken most of the time, especially not in the cities he knows. He'll roll with it too, though. Maybe not as well or as smoothly as Danny, but then who is? He quickly finishes his noodles, licks his lips, and places his sticks just as Danny had. Getting to his feet, he dusts off his legs and rear before smiling broadly to the other man.

"Okay! I like the way you think." Waiting for Danny to lead the way, Daken moves after him to catch him up and then match his pace well as they walk.

Iron Fist has posed:
A server comes to take Danny's card and run it for the amount of two bowls of dan dan noodles. He thanks her and gets to his feet. Turns out he was barefoot this whole time, because he has to take a moment to slip on his shoes before they head out.

"So tell me about Madripoor," he says on the way oto the door. Once outside, he takes up a comfortable pace next to Daken and heads in the direction of the park. It's not too busy outside, but there's traffic to and from the various stores as locals cart goods to their cars or nearby apartments.

Daken has posed:
To anyone else, it would probably be quirky. To Daken, it's kind of adorable. Which makes him feel even odder about all of this. How ridiculous! But he's also never met anyone exactly like Danny.

"Ever been there?" Daken doesn't slide his hands into his pockets. That would probably ruin the lines, anyway, and those pants are incredibly tight. But he wears them well. "You know how it goes: crime syndicates...sex, drugs, rock 'n roll. Hey, you know one of the only good things about me?" He leans closer, lowering his voice. "I give a killer foot massage." Then he laughs again, a mirthful and light sound as he continues on his way.