4478/Coney Island in the Afternoon

Coney Island in the Afternoon
Date of Scene:	19 May 2018
Location:	Coney Island
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Volt, Echo

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Volt has posed:
Coney Island is a trip. Between its tented attractions, large rides, and restaurants, it's a fascinating piece of geography - exciting, in fact! Even with the mild, but gloomy rainfall shooing away the walkabout's typical bustle, Drake is having a nice time roaming. Hood drawn up and sunglasses dangling from his collar, the teen drifts from one attraction to the other, generally unimpeded. It's humid, thanks to the winning combination of moisture and heat. It's /especially/ humid in the hoodie. Summertime is no time for bulky outer-wear. But it's something he's had to come to terms with over the past few weeks.

Drake is in pretty good spirits, despite it all. He's not able to go about his purpose, what with the rain and what it does to his powers. The goal is to show them off, not seriously injure or kill someone. And though it's disappointing that his plans are on hold, these are some rare moments where he can kind-of-sort-of bathe and not be totally gross. It's like a double-edged sword, but not really. It's refreshing, at any rate.

Echo has posed:
Maya Lopez is wandering the Coney Island after having come through the turnstiles a few minutes ago. As she stops amidst the traffic, she considers for a moment if the area is sparsely crowded or not. Her pace is leisurely and she looks gloomy like the weather, the misty rain dribbling on her little purple umbrella as she starts to walk up the path again. A huge blast of sound erupts from a booth, hooting and hallering as Maya walks by, announcing a prize winner. The happy family claps but Maya doesn't turn or even react.

Maya glances at a teenager in a hoodie of all things as she walks to the Hot Pretzel booth, maybe wondering why this crazy guy is in a thick sweatshirt hoodie in this humid weather. She gets in line for her pretzel depressingly, gloomily contemplating life.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley happens to come to a halt right there as well! However, he doesn't enter the line. The moves up to the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets, back turned to the person working the cart. There's a nice little line there, keeping the worker nice and occupied. It's not as good a cover as not being seen at all, but to achieve /that/ effect, he'd be drawing all the attention of everyone else nearby. So it's a compromise. Fortunately, he's had a lot of practice with this over the span of countless vendors and supermarkets.

Emerald green gaze drifts with feigned listless interest over the people in line, ever-so-aloof. The gaze lands on Maya briefly, but doesn't linger. It's no sleight - his gaze doesn't linger on anyone. Not unlike setting the mark on a polygraph test, Drake's first step is establishing himself as simply part of the crowd and non-threatening. The mistakes tend to happen when someone can't be patient. And despite the gnawing feeling of persistent hunger, patience is something he's had to learn the hard way.

As the first person in line gets their order, the second one steps up. Drake casually rolls his stance over to face forward, checking out the pretzels pre-made and on display. His peripheral is on the nearby patron in line and the worker himself; no one else would be able to get to him in time to stop him, should they even see what he does. At least, not logically. It's an acceptable risk, and one he has to take to stave off starvation.

There's an opportunity, but it goes too quickly. A second opportunity, but he plays it off just to assert that he's not there to steal - again, tricking the metaphorical polygraph. The third opportunity is the golden one, and deft fingers smoothly gloss over a pretzel on display. When his hand passes, the soft bready has vanished; palmed and sleeved. The worker didn't see it. Others in line didn't see it. Drake turns, satisfied and excited to be eating something as soon as he can saunter far enough to be clear. But did Maya see it?

Echo has posed:
Visual learning and visual perception is one of Maya's best talents and she's no slouch in dealing with the endless amounts of imput coming to her. Maybe because she's just standing there depressingly or maybe because she has nothing better to do, Maya can't help but watch the hooded teen's adept movements. A little kid screams in front of her and makes a fuss in front of his frustrated mother, but Maya doesn't even react. Her eyes follow the enigmatic Drake as he walks off. She glances back up to the line and then back at him, leaving her sacret place in the procession to follow him, suddenly making him her business. She draws closer and closer like a slow, stalking animal, and her hand reaches out for his shoulder, her nails chipped and rugged, revealing her work ethic. "Hey..." she says, but not like a superhero or a police officer, but more like an upset mother who saw their kid do something pretty dumb, "Stop..."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley gets some distance away and hears no sounds of fuss or confusion. That, says experience, is a clean getaway. Perhaps more importantly, it means he gets to eat something. Sure, the pretzel has nothing going on - it isn't even salted - but food is food, and he's in zero position to be picky. Besides, a lack of food has a tendency to make someone really appreciate whatever they can get their hands on.

And so, after rounding a corner, Drake is prepared to devour his ill-gotten gains. With a practiced smoothness, he lifts his arm, tugs his sleeve wide, and catches the pretzel that tumbles out. Holding it like some sacred treasure in both hands, he raises it. Mouth gapes. Aaaand- there's a hand on his shoulder and a very unaccommodating voice to accompany it.

Drake freezes, not moving beyond the flitting of his gaze to the side. No, he can't be sure who it is. But it doesn't matter. In the end, he'd react the same towards any of them. That reaction happens to be a sudden duck to leave her palm and fingers empty, followed by a sudden burst forward. He dashes around the corner of a game stall, neatly spins around a standing pedestrian, and frees a hand from the pretzel to grab the back of a bench and cleanly vault himself over. Though panicked, his movements are graceful and easy - he's had a lot of practice in evasive maneuvers!

Echo has posed:
As she grabs for him, Maya adds protectively, "Are you okay...?" she asks but maybe he's out of earshot by the time he can hear it. She frowns at his attitude and her stupid behavior trying to reach this idiot. After taking a few steps, she puts up her hands as the teen dodges a large lady to make his escape, "Sorry ma'am," Maya says and purposefully walks after him like Jason Voorhees. He dashes around the corner, but Maya follows his path and walks around the corner too, following him. A horn from above bellows in the small little alley between the stalls but Maya doesn't react.

Maya heads out of the darkened, gloomy connection, "Wait...!" she announces as she thinks she sees him nearby but he jumps a bench like a professional runaway. She quickens her pace but stops when she reaches the bench, frowning as she watches him continue on like a rabbit. She looks down for a second at the bench, and seems depressed as she observes its faded blue paint, which has dulled into a light grey color and chipped with time. She looks back up for the teen.

Volt has posed:
As Drake had come to expect from most pursuers, he's gained some safe distance. But he heard her shout, at least. Not so much the question as to his well-being. But it's enough for him to whirl around with a defiant look, emerald eyes narrowed on Maya. As if to reinforce the notion that chasing him is pointless, he quickly pops a curve of the pretzel into his mouth.

There. Now it's not fit for anyone else! Take that, society.

Once he's finished swallowing that bite of bread, he adjusts his footing. He's ready at a moment's notice to resume his escape, his attention zeroed in on Maya. But he's curious enough to hold his ground and wait to see if she has anything to say or do. It's not so unlike dealing with a stray cat.

Echo has posed:
Maya Lopez puts her hands on her hips impatiently and doesn't have much to say or do, except call after him. She drops her annoyingly purple umbrella as the teen keeps running but she sees him look back, so she raises a little card in her hand and waves it back and forth, "Plan for dinner?" she asks him, the little card waving in the air. The rain mists her black, black hair as she stands there.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley continues staring at her, but the defiance has diminished somewhat. The prospect of food in the future is a sorely tempting one. He inches forward a step. Then another. He clearly doesn't trust her, but it's serving as a fair lure insofar. He nears the bench, until he's about fifteen feet away from it. Another bite of the pretzel is taken, tentative and cautious.

"What's that?," he asks, bobbing the remaining pretzel in the card's direction.

Echo has posed:
Maya Lopez lowers the card slowly like a hand grenade and offers it to him between her two fingers, "A restaurant," she says, not elaborating much on detail, then again she doesn't seem like the chatty type.

"Take it. Tell them you're with Echo. They'll give you a bowl of rice," she adds. She wiggles her fingers, "Take it."

Volt has posed:
The similarities between Drake and a stray cat only grow as she offers the card and he responds by creeping in little by little. He starts to reach a hand forward, only to shrink back. "Wait. Why? And Echo? Who's Echo? What's Echo?"

Echo has posed:
Raising her chin, Maya Lopez considers the ethics of her situation as she says, "You want to eat, don't you? Don't be stupid," she tells him. She frowns at him but softens immediately a little, reaching the card toward him again like a spear, "They won't question Echo."

"She's a deadly mob assassin who can kill anyone," Maya explains to him, "Take it please."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley starts to reach forward more, fingers stretching - right up until she says it's a deadly mob assassin. He immediately recoils, eyebrow raised. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What? Doesn't the saying go 'never accept favors from the mob'?"

Echo has posed:
Maya Lopez frowns, because Drake's reply pretty much typifies her life but unfortunately, she's way past that, "I wouldn't think of it that way. Echo isn't the mob. She's Echo. And Echo's friends are treated right. They're not discriminated against or made fun of and they don't go hungry. You want to be one of her friends," she explains.

"Better than enemies," she adds, with finality, "Take it before people start staring."

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley looks very uncertain at this point. Food is good. He needs that. And the prospect of food secured in the future is better than having to be opportunistic. At the same time, this chick is giving him all the dangerous signals. And what sounds like a threat at the end only emphasizes it.

Vivid green eyes flicker between the card and her face a few times. But at last, he snatches it neatly and tucks it into the central pouch of his hoodie. "Alright..," he says quietly. In the end, having the card doesn't necessarily mean he has to /use/ it. He can pour over it later.

Echo has posed:
Maya Lopez stands for a minute looking depressed, even though the teen has taken Echo's famous calling card, "I know her. She had no father or mother to protect her and spoil her. She had to take it," she tells him, "Just like you're taking her card," she emphasizes, because it is Echo's card, her promise, "Give it a chance." Maya raises her umbrella up over head and the misty rain flickers off it. The umbrella shadows her face ominously. She stands there to see if the teen has anything else to say before leaving.

Volt has posed:
Drake Riley frowns as she explains - sort of - the circumstances of how Echo became Echo. Or that's how he's interpreting it, at least. He stares at her face for a few seconds before exhale a soft sigh and nods. "Okay. Alright." Her background doesn't seem too dissimilar to his. Granted, he couldn't call it exact, but it's close enough to feel some sympathy for her. He's assuming, of course, that she's being on the level with him.

"Um. Thanks." He begins to inch back from her, letting her leave.