13555/Jog on, jerk

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Jog on, jerk
Date of Scene: 25 June 2021
Location: Central Park, Manhattan
Synopsis: Kit, Beast and some magely friends in the park
Cast of Characters: Beast, Kit Killovarras, Kinsey MacKenna, Xiang Zhao, Vitali Svyatoslav




Beast has posed:
There are a few things in the universe that are considered to be stupid things to do, nevermind about the best or worst of times. One of those things, if any horror movie that was ever made ever, has anything to say about it... is jogging around Central park NYC, after midnight. It brings out the weirdos, the winos, the werewolves, witches and lets face it, the wankers of society. But occasion has a habit of sometimes not getting memos about the jurisprudence of events.

Such is the case for one Hank McCoy, aka: the Beast. He'd been working in the American Museum of Natural History for the last week and a half, staying nearby in a nice little hotel overlooking the park and there's only so much gym time you can put in, before you have to just go for a run. And it's not that easy to do in the daytime, for some individuals.

"Look young fellow-me-lad, I'm going to give you the count of five before I make life a little tricky for you for at -least- two days, maybe more for the trauma, unless you leave me /and/ that young lady alone." "Dah fuck you talkin' about homes? You see this piece?" "Yes, I see that piece. Do YOU see this face?"

That dialogue can be heard by any in proximity to the Strawberry fields. Muggings and other such crimes are commonplace after dark. They don't usually involve cheeky dialogue.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
It's been a long day indeed, meeting new people, getting jumped by unsavory people and now? Now Kit has had a chance to showcase one of the more negative aspects of his magic, having killed off around five or six fully loaded hotdogs after what little of his magic he'd used earlier. Aside from that, it would have been a day of chatting, learning about the town and anything else that might have come up, including the creatures love of music and particularly, old music, which is likely a topic you shouldn't get him started on unless-- "Nothing's is real, and nothing to get hung about!" Yeah, the kid can sing and he's got some good pipes to boot. "Strawberry fields forevah," he's just managing to finish off the song, which is probably not the first one he's sung today at this point. Even with his hood up, his coat closed and such, it's pretty easy to tell he's not human, but he's having fun at very least and it seems like he doesn't care as much as he had when they'd left the scene of the early days beating.

Kinsey MacKenna has posed:
"My favorite is Blackbird." For which Kinsey winks. "Do you want extra hotdogs to take home? I've still got some cash left."

Really, the boys weren't overly expensive. Besides, she didn't come to earth by habit, so this was a treat for her. She sat on a bench at the picnic tables and stretched out her feet. "Though, I am going to regret the coffee!"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Central park is one of those places that Xiang Zhao does happen to go to a fair amount of time. Sometimes in daylight, but it's really much more common to see him around the area after dark. When evil is about. This could say one of two things about him, really. Either he's there to join in the evil afoot... or he's there to put his style of dent into it.

He walks, calm and tranquil, robes of deep purple silk flowing with his motions, not far from the Strawberry Fields, and the apparent robbery in progress there. His long dark hair has been only partially bound, the top and sides, into a looped tail. A jade hairstick of white is stuck through it. In the dark, it's hard to make out the hair stick's features of a phoenix in flight.

Xiang Zhao's right hand waves a folding fan in a leisurely manner, the breeze created wafting up toward his face. While his left hand rests at the small of his back. Upon hearing the exchange about a 'piece', he pauses and glances that way. He resumes walking, his feet taking him in the direction he'd heard the voices coming from. He knows, by this point, just what a 'piece' is. He hangs around China Town too much not to. He apparently hasn't heard the singing, just yet. Or he's not paying it any mind.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Central Park is a place that Vitali has come to like, and with that being the case, he does find his way there on a relatively regular basis. He had parted ways from the pair of others after eating lunch with them, but it would seem that he's returned to the park. Perhaps he wasn't able to sleep, which prompted there to be a walk. He's settled himself in cross-legged fashion beneath a large oak tree. His hands rest lightly on his knees, and his long braid is drawn forward to lay in front of his left shoulder. His eyes are closed, at least at the moment.

On one of the lower branches of the tree above him is where Soraya is perched, and she ruffles her feathers a little bit, sitting up and paying attention. Keeping watch over her human companion. At the conversation of a potential confrontation reaches her ears, Soraya tilts her head to one side, and she gives a sharp click of her beak. Once, and then a second time. Vitali is still dressed in what he had been wearing earlier -- his black steel toed boots, black jeans, and a dark green turtleneck. The sleeves have been slightly pushed up his forearms, though not as far as his elbows. He opens his eyes and takes a moment to look up towards where she perches in the tree, and then he turns his gaze towards the source of the voices. Shifting slightly, he gracefully rose to his feet and started to make his way towards the voices that Soraya had advised him of. Soraya lightly leaps from the branch, spreading her wings to glide, and after only a step or two, Vitali lifts his left arm for her to be able to land on. As she lands, she gives a shriek of sound, and then she lightly walks up his arm to settle on his shoulder. Once she's settled there, he lowers his arm back to his side and continues on his way.

Beast has posed:
"One, two, two and a half..." **the sound of a very satisfying crunch, then the sound of strained metal reaches ears. How well it reaches ears all depends on how good the hearing is, one supposes. "Holy fuck," "Alright so I lied. Who ever counts to five these days?" -- And then the sound of scurrying footsteps, of muggers and/or other things, making a hasty retreat from the circumstance they found themselves in.

Hank McCoy turns to the lady of the moment, "I suspect that catching the next train out of here might be a good move, yes?" She nods "Thought so. Good night miss."

Sometimes a mugging is just a mugging, attempted or otherwise and you don't want to be the mugger when the world is populated by people with super powers. It just is the nature of things. Not tha tmore things might not happen, but for now, that was an idiot with a gun, with a mutant that is very quick and strong. Didn't really go much further than that.

Emerging from the jogging path, Beast takes his moment to breathe, bending double with hands on knees, stretching out from the exertion as you're supposed to do. Familiar sounds haunt his ears, but he doesn't fix on anyone at the moment. It's just a circumstance in the park, after dark. "I wonder if they have kebabs?" he ponders as he heads toward the food trucks.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
"Good choice!" Kit laughs a bit at the mention of Blackbird, then he shrugs a little and adds, "One of my favorite old songs growing up was Sympathy for the Devil." Then he gives Kinsey a glance with those now-glowing, violet eyes of his and chuckles a little, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good. The last six should keep me going for a bit at least." Then he tilts his head and adds, "and I /AM/ going to find a way to pay you back for those by the way," he says with a playful point, "even if it means I have to pay for yours a couple times."

He's going to say something else, but then his attention snaps to something in the distance, his forward momentum stops for a moment as he just stares. He looks dumbstruck for a moment, but then, with little more than a, "I'll be back in a moment.." he takes off at FULL sprint towards Henry, not caring in the slightest that the fast movement would pull his hood back.

Kinsey MacKenna has posed:
"You will, will you?" For some reason that tickles her pink to contemplate it. It's not as though she has riches, but she's doing okay. She has no family, and kids to speak to.. what else has she to spend it on? But she doesn't argue. Kinset just nods. "Of course you will."

When he perks up his head, and excuses himself, she gets a little furrow between her eyes.So far, so good, Kibou doesn't seem bothered by it, but she still worries about it.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The scream of an eagle at night? This is not a common occurance and brings Zhao to a stop, his head turning in the direction he'd heard it. "Ah'Tali," he murmurs, his voice as soft by nature as it is by volume. He is thus distracted from the mugging. Until there's that crunch of metal. Xiang stops again, his steps once again taking him toward what now proves to be a familiar voice and face. "Yisheng," he greets as his dark eyes alight on the Beast.

He glances in the direction he'd heard the eagle calling from, and pauses where he is. To wait for the eagle's owner to join them. Something he knows is going to happen eventually. Xiang looks back to Henry. "You are well?"

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The crunching sound causes Vitali to raise one of his eyebrows, and he turns his head to look towards the eagle perched upon his shoulder. Soraya clicks her beak and ruffles her wings much in the manner of a shrug of the shoulders. For not the first time today, ruffians are sent scurrying and scampering before -they- end up receiving harm. Lifting his right hand, he lightly strokes the pad of his thumb along the eagle's beak, a gesture which has her half closing her eyes and ducking her head. She catches one of his fingers, nibbling on it for a moment before he slips the digit free of her. He doesn't seem to mind or be harmed by it.

The eagle on his shoulder looks towards the jogging path, and it takes a moment for Vitali to look in that direction as well. The path of his steps shifts in order to angle in that direction. Soraya's attention flicks towards Kit, and she gives a click of her beak before making a soft sound. Yet she remains on Vitali's shoulder, at least for the time being. And it only takes a couple of moments for him to step out of the darkness to reach Zhao and Henry.

As Vitali's gaze settles on Zhao, there's a warm smile that comes to his features, and he inclines his head in greeting. "Zhaoshenka, is good night," he says. "How is night for you?" he asks, curious. He looks to Henry, giving a small nod to him. "All is okay?" he asks, one of his eyebrows quirking up a touch.

Beast has posed:
Out of the shadows of night, familiar faces and voices emerge. Taking his breath for what it is, a necessary intake of oxygen that is, Beast looks up with a grin all full of teeth, fangs and joviality. "Oh, not so bad. Good to see the two of you. Or rather, see you sort of and hear you definitely," he looks up at the scant street lighting. "That probably explains the lack of recognition, right? They really do need to update the street lighting in this particular area, it would do /wonders/ for the crime levels."

Straightening up, Hank tosses the hood off his wild hair, limbering up his shoulders. "Just par for the course in NYC, I think. Anyway, good to see you two, surprising at this time of the night... sorry, I have a distinct need for Shwarma, if you want to join me?" He aims his sneaker-footed self at the incoming sound of footfalls, as a shadow he doesn't recognize makes a bee-line in his general direction. "What the glorious fudge...?" coming into view, into one of the ACTUAL street lamps that flood the area, Beast tries to make head or tail of incoming Kit. Ms Kinsey, unfortunatley it is but the whaft of scent that reaches his nose, for now.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, TAIL! It's a bad time to be prone to making a fool of yourself when you're running at someone, but at least Kit manages to catch himself! Nope! Not gonna fall flat on his face in front of a new person! Instead he jerks himself back a little and comes to a skidding stop a few feet from Henry and the others, using both feet and one hand to correct for a moment before he stands up, just staring at the man in disbelief. He doesn't say anything, just pants quietly. He wants to say something, but he just pants quietly, keeping himself a few inches shorter than the other man for some reason or another.

Kinsey MacKenna has posed:
Ah, yes. The one who is known as "Beast". And more importantly, one who could be almost like Kit. No wonder he went rushing for him. And beyond that, the other boy from this afternoon was also coming out of the poorer light, into the brighter lit food trucks. And apparently he had a friend.

Kinsey remained seated, and gestured that they should join. "I actually have to be going now, but I didn't want you to not have a seat." And it was true. People were milling around to grab up her prime spot.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao bows his head in Vitali's direction. And though there's a warmth in his eyes, his expression doesn't change a single bit. HIs features remain calm and serene. "The night is warm," he says. His tone remains that same softly spoken one, and there's a thread of that warmth within it as well now. That toothy grin of the doctor's doesn't even bring Zhao's expression to change. There's nothing to indicate he's not as calm and serene as he looks. His hand hasn't even stopped its lazy waving of that fan.

"I am often out at this time of the night. It is a good time to hunt things of evil, such as those demons we fought in the park in China Town." His eyes follow Henry's as the keener senses note the incoming Kit before Zhao's do. He turns to face that direction as well. As though ready to face whatever it is. Despite this, his posture and expression remain the same. Calm. Serene.

Zhao's dark eyes take in the entirety of the approaching Kit, and the trip that happens. Surprisingly, the fan actually pauses at that. It only resumes once the creature has caught himself and didn't face plant. This is a good thing, apparently. His expression and body language don't change otherwise.

He glances toward Henry. "Another gh-.." He pauses. "Mutant," he says slowly, carefully, like the word is an unfamiliar one to him. "Like you?" He doesn't seem to be bothered in the slightest by the creature at all, despite his unusual appearance. Perhaps where he comes from, since neither his accent nor his clothing are American, such creatures are fairly commonplace. He glances toward the woman who speaks and inclines his head at the kindness offered of a saved seat.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
"Soraya hear. Soraya recognize voice," Vitali says, giving a small nod, a smile touching at the corners of his lips. Soraya ruffles her feathers and clicks her beak, then snatches at an escaped lock of Vitali's hair. He doesn't make an effort to stop her, and there is a certain amount of familiarity in her doing so. "Is good for seeing, also. Da, light need be better," he affirms, giving a small nod. Light isn't anything that he can do something about.

"Is good for seeing, also. Have strange timings, sometimes," Vitali says, lifting one of his shoulders in a bit of a shrug. And he does, sometimes. Then he tilts his head a little bit to one side. "What is shwarma?" he asks, curious. The curiosity doesn't, at least, cause him to stop paying attention to his surroundings. He notices the approach, the stumbling, and there's a faint murmur under his breath, his right hand shifting just a touch in preparation. Yet it proves to be unnecessary, and he lets go of the power when all seems to be well.

His dark gaze turns to Zhao, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. "If are too warm, can make cooler," Vitali offers, one of his eyebrows quirking up just a touch. He -does- have ice magic, after all, and it -is- as cold as he wants it to be.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy looks over Kit, then down, up and along cross-wise in one sweeping eyeballing. He holds up a finger to the youth, looks to Vitali and then points that uplifted finger to the foot trucks. "Shwarma is a thing. A wonderful, disturbingly addictive thing, that we are going to try, given that this lovely lady has kept a seat warm at the bench and is kind enough to offer it directly." He nods to Kit, pointing the same pointing finger at the trucks, at the bench and kind of ignores all possibilities of strange, to saunter over that way as if it's the most normal thing ever.

If you don't make a big deal of yourself, people don't seem to know what to do with it half the time. He heads to one of the vans, grins toothily at the server and waves one clawed, fuzzy hand. "Beef shwarma, all the fixings, except the hot sauce. Does bad things to my flatulence," he indicates, looking at Zhao, Vitali -and- Kit also. "ANd whatever my friends might like. Thank you Farouk."

Kit Killovarras has posed:
There is a moment where Kit's left ear flops to one side and his right eye twitches ever so slightly - seriously, whats with people and food today? - but he shakes his head quickly and regains himself when he notices the server looking at him. "Uuh, lamb shawarma, everything with it, extra hot sauce...?" It actually comes out as a question, Though he gives a simple, "Yeah.." and a nod in a strange sort of effort to verify it was meant as an order. It could also be that this is the first time he's ordered food on his own since arriving in the states, but that's another matter entirely.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao can do something about the light. And moves to do so. His left hand comes from behind his back, and he makes a motion with his fingers, and turns his hand palm up. A small ball of fire appears there, maybe two inches across. And lights the area around the four with the soft warm light of fire. He holds his hand steady, palm up, the ball of fire remaining hovering there about an inch above it, for only a few seconds. Then the ball lifts until it's hovering over his shoulder. There, it remains. Zhao's left hand returns to its former position, resting at the small of his back.

Zhao too, seems to be curious as to what shawarma is. His eyes turn to Vitali and he studies the Siberian for a moment. "It is warm. It is not too warm, at present." There's probably a reason Xiang hasn't been going out of the apartment during daylight hours. He glances to Kit, and then moves to follow Beast to the food trucks. He stands to one side, and a bit behind, the fuzzy blue guy, looking over the menu for what might be on offer. He glances to Henry at the words of whatever his friends would like. His eyes shift to the guy apparently named Farouk. "Chicken shawarma, please. However it is usually made is fine."

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
Vitali blinks at Henry at the initial answer that his question earns. Soraya ruffles her feathers and tugs on the lock of hair that she had captured. The Siberian tilts his head a touch to one side, looks over towards the food trucks, then looks back to Henry. And he shakes his head, briefly. "Am sorry. Am not understanding. Maybe will understand better when try. Am willing to try new thing," he says, giving a small nod. Is it meat? Is it vegetables? He doesn't know yet, but he's curious enough to find out.

There's a glance given towards Zhao's fire, but he doesn't seem bothered by the summoning of it. It's far enough away from him and he knows that Zhao has it under control, and that it won't hurt him. Fire isn't his favourite thing. He tilts his head a little bit to one side at Zhao's clarification, and then he ducks his chin slightly before giving a small nod. "Da, okay," he says, agreeing and letting the topic of temperature fall by the wayside. He's going to have to see about acquiring shorter sleeved shirts or the temperatures are going to start roasting him.

When Henry starts to head towards the trucks, he glances towards Zhao, and then he follows along. And at the truck, he listens as the order is made. And then he glances towards Zhao again before looking towards the server at the window, and he lifts his right hand to gesture towards Henry. "Will try chicken, also," he says, with what might be a bit of uncertainty. He has no idea what he's getting himself into. He doesn't usually order food, although that's on account of the fact that his money isn't in US dollars -- it's in roubles, and places aren't so keen on accepting those. He usually eats what either Willow or Zhao or himself happens to cook for the meal in question.

Beast has posed:
Henry McCoy looks aside at the young fellow with the muzzle. "You're brave," but he does produce forty bucks, setting it out for the cost of the shwarma, prepared and handed out seemingly in reverse order. Slightly belated to the conversation, but still relevant: "Yes, he's like me. Not a Ghost, but well done, thank you for that Xiang. Did feel a might on the odd side to be called that, rather a different meaning in english I think, than Mandarin."

To Vitali: "It is all things. Shwarma is a soul food, for when you want a bit of everything. Farouk pickles his own turnips, which that sounds a bit weird, but pickled turnips in a kebab are quite awesome." He picks up a bottle of water too, raising it to the server as he settles himself on the bench that was so helpfully kept warm by Kinsey and looks with a smile to the two mages, then with an inquisitive look to the young and new mutant in this particular arrangement. His hood really doesn't hide all that much of his squareness, but it at least hides most of the blue. Not on his face though, there's no mistaking that. "My name is Doctor Henry McCoy," he offers "This is Vitali and Xiang Zhao. They are friends of mine, mystically inclined. I'm a mutant, which is what it seems you are."

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Kit shrugs a little at the mention of being brave, "I just like hot foods. Always have really." he says with a little smile, then nods slightly and adds, "Name's Kit and I've actually met Vitali before, he helped me deal with a few gang bangers who followed me into the park earlier today." He gives Xiang Zhao a glance and nods to him slightly, giving a simple, "It's nose to meet you." He pauses for a moment and chuckles a little, "And yeah, sort of hard to miss the fact that you're a mutant, same could be said of me... You're actually the first person I've seen with a mutation similar to mine. Sort of why I ran over." that last little bit is said with a weird little smile and a scratch at the back of his head.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Chicken is good. Zhao seems pleased, though he doesn't smile precisely, when that is what is ordered by the Siberian. He also seems pleased that there's no fear of his little ball of fire. He inclines his head briefly to the doctor. "I have come to learn that here, a ghost is the spirit of something which has died," he says. "In Mandarin, a ghost is.. simply something that is different. Not human. Usually neutral or good. A demon is the same, but is evil."

As the food is given out, he accepts his with a half bow, slipping his left hand free to take the food. In his right, the fan moves in that lazy, continuous way. "I am uncertain what a turnip is," he says at that explanation. "A pickle is.. a long slender green vegetable that comes either sweet or savory, yes?"

His dark eyes move toward Kit, and there's that inclination of his head again. "It is also nice to meet you," he says. He sets his food atop the table before he settles to the bench opposite the doctor, flipping his robes out of the way with his left hand as he sits. The fan closes with a soft snick of sound. Silk on silk as well as the ribs of the fan coming together. He lays it atop the table. The fireball moves to hover more toward the center of the table, perhaps a couple of feet above Zhao's head, providing ample light for the four of them.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
The Siberian man tilts his head slightly to one side, his brow furrowing a little bit. And he gives a small shake of his head, some concepts not quite grasped. "Am not sure am understanding. What is soul food? Understand pickled turnip, da. Grow turnip before, in home. Make pickle things. Is not weird for put with meat," Vitali says, giving a small nod. Trying new foods is a good thing, and as the shawarma is handed out, he accepts his and carries it over to the bench that had been reserved by Kinsey earlier.

His gaze turns to Kit, and he gives a small nod. "Da, have met. Earlier in day," he says, giving a small nod. "Did help, da. Were bad people, people with closed mind. Did not deserve to be treated in way they did," he says, frowning for a moment.

His dark gaze turns to Zhao, watching him, and he gives a small nod at the difference voice about the words. It had taken him a bit to get the difference, as well. "Turnip is vegetable, grow as root. Is good. Da, pickle can be sweet, can be sour. Is sometimes with other vegetables, da? Not always... ogurets," Vitali says, giving a small nod. 'Ogurets', for those who know, is cucumbers in Russian. With his food in hand, he heads over for the bench as well, then sits next to Zhao and places his food on the table.

Beast has posed:
And so it is that shwarma is handed out, in red and white chequered paper, on little cardboard trays, to all and sundry. 'However it is usually served' for Zhao's benefit ends up with lettuce, onion, tomato, chickpeas, hummus, tahini sesame sauce, pickled turnips, cucumber, cilantro and a splash of hot sauce that makes the whole think rather more 'szechuan' in its heat, but a very different experience than Zhao's cooking. And apparently here, at this food truck, you either eat it all wrapped up, or you eat it open faced in strips and chunks.

Looking up at the small ball of fire, Beast gives a small, goofy smile, looking through his spectacles at the controlled magic. He then drops attention back to himself, holding his hands up and exaggeratedly gasping at his own palms. "Oh my goodness!!" he declares, feels his face all over, bites his knuckle then grins around it, relaxing back again, to a casual 'after jog meal' position. "I get called the Beast, but because that tends to sound a lot like I'm a terrible leading role in a pornographic production, I tend to drop the 'the' out of that equasion." There is a slight squint at the young fellow. "Nice to meet you, Kitt. Do I detect a hint of arabic? I'd say... Tunisian or Egyptian if I was to have to put a pin in it. Kind of African adjacent." He gestures with palms close together, shoving his hands to one side with it.

Helpfully, he leans toward Zhao's plate and points his wooden spork thing at one of the pickled turnips. "That's a pickled turnip. It really doesn't translate well, I could say the mandarin, but it doesn't define the taste or the production process adequately."

And then an explanation in fluent russian occurs, of what 'soul food' basically translates as, as that meal that your Babooshka used to make and only she could make it quite right and thusly, you'd be sitting with your latke in utter bliss. What you eat when you are homesick and/or in need of comfort. ANd back to english. "Unfortunately, the closed mind is prevalent everywhere. I've been working to somewhat thrust a crow-bar plot manoever opening of mind, to the public eye. It's very hard to ignore me, generally speaking. Well you can, but then I talk at you."

Kit Killovarras has posed:
Kit heads to sit down, holding out a hand to literally allow his food to come to him when it's served. There is a little crackle of violet energy through the fur of his arm, then the tray with his food just sort of picks itself up and hovers it's way to him. "I was raised in Egypt, along the Nile." he says with a nod. "My family owns a small bit of land a dozen or so miles north of Sudan along the river." He takes a quick bite of his food, taking a moment to enjoy it before he mentions, "Closed minds are typically all I've seen until recently. Since I got here it's been a strange mix of people who either aren't phased by how I look, or who panic and run away screaming at the sight of me." He takes another bite, before adding, "or worse." with his ears folding back ever so slightly.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao listens quietly at the explanation about Kit. As he listens, he tries some of the food. It seems to have come in the strips and chunks variety, and he appears to be enjoying it just fine, not bothered much, if at all, by the heat of the seasoning. He pauses only to glance to Vitali. "I do not think I have ever had a turnip. Unless that is another name for a potato. I also do not know ogurets." He glances to Beast and nods, then spears one of the pickled turnips so indicated, and eats it. "Hm," he murmurs after. "I was correct. I have never had this before." He eats another, with evident enjoyment.

Those dark eyes shift over to regard Kit for a moment. "I have found that there are closed minds everywhere. But there are also open minds and good people. It is a sad fact of life that there are people as you describe. Those who are not phased are better." He eats another bit of his food, still clearly enjoying it, despite the hot sauce.

Vitali Svyatoslav has posed:
There are strange things that Vitali doesn't have words for on his food. With a woode spork-thing in hand, he prods the hummus with the tines of it before lifting it to taste it. He does similarly with a couple of other things that are on it as well. The tahini sauce, the chickpeas. He uses the fork to stir things up a little bit before having a bite of it that way.

One of his eyebrows quirks at the sudden examination that Henry gives his hands, and he makes an inquisitive sort of sound. He doesn't really understand what the possible issue is, and he glances towards Zhao briefly. And his gaze turns back to Henry at the explanation of what soul food is, which has him agreeing wholeheartedly in Russian in return, and turning a bit... wistful. It's been a long time since he's had his grandmother's -- or his mother's -- cooking. He's been taught how to make the same food, but it tastes different to him, at least, even though it's really the same. He looks down at his current food, prodding it a little bit with the wooden spork and perhaps for a moment wishing that it was some of his grandmother's cooking, and he's quiet as he eats a bit more of it.

Vitali tilts his head slightly, looking to Zhao. "Nyet, is not same as potato. Is different. Kind of... like make cross of carrot and potato. Maybe. Sort of close. Ogurets... am not knowing English word. Ogurets, green outside, white inside, have seeds inside," he says. He rests his spork in his food to be able to hold the first finger of each of his hands about six-ish inches apart. "Grow so long," he adds. He uses his spork to rummage a bit amongst his food, then to pluck up some of the cucumber, and he holds it aloft. "Oguret," he says, giving a small nod, a smile quirking at the corners of his lips.

"Is unfortunate. Closed minds. Is like saying part of world not exist and ignoring is right there," Vitali says softly, giving his head a brief shake. "Good people, too, da. People willing to accept more," he adds, giving a small nod to agree with Zhao.

Beast has posed:
"Aaah yes, the inherant sociopathic, xenophobic hater. Haters gonna hate, bro," Beast says it, frowns at himself, wrinkles his nose up to its maximum and shakes his head vigorously. "Nope. Just nope. There are some things I am never going to be able to emmulate, but you do get the point." He eats some of his shwarma, making happy noises with it, then pauses, setting his spork atop the pita and looking at the new kid on the block. "Where are you staying, master Kit? I want to know so that I can make sure to keep an eye." And tell the mister and missus back at the base, if such is necessary.

He glances aside. "Aren't they quite something? Turnip on its own, kind of boring. Pickling juice on its own, not great. Add turnip and pickle together and I do not know WHAT they do to it to turn it beetroot pink, because there's no beetroot involved, but still... it is magic." He nods though. "Yes." pause, think. "Cucumbers." And the same word in Mandarin, for Xiang's benefit.

Kit Killovarras has posed:
When he's referred to as 'master kit', the Aardwolf just sort of twitches an ear, but shrugs it off and smiles. "I'm actually staying in the park for now.. Well, that or wherever." he takes another bite, then adds, "I've been offered a temporary place to stay, but I don't know if I'm going to accept or not." He pauses to take another bite. He's finished with his food within minutes, then gives a simple, "I'll, be right back." as he stands up, goes back to the server and offers a sort of timid smile. "Umm, same order as before please. Lamb shawarma, everything on it, extra hot sauce." he puts in a second order for the same, taking a fold of cash out of his pocket as he adds, "Aaand, a can of root beer please, if you have it?" He pays for the food and walks back to the table, sitting back down. "Haters gonna hate, huh?" he says with a glance to Henry, then gives a grin and a nod, "Yeah, sort of. I mean hell, the reason the thugs from earlier were after me is because I helped someone out around Bushwick."