5893/Coney Island Chit-Chat

Coney Island Chit-Chat
Date of Scene:	01 December 2018
Location:	Coney Island, New York City
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Rowan Saunders, Captain America

---

Rowan Saunders has posed:
Rowan is too local to get excited over the rides and fairway (that he'd admit to) but who doesn't enjoy Coney Island? He's not enjoying it alone, either. One a leash, he's got a rather stocky yellow labrador retriever. The dog has nose to ground, sniffing out dropped treats and tasty bits to snap up, though Rowan tries to keep him reined in. That dog doesn't look like it needs anymore snacks.

As he walks, the bespeckled man keeps a watchful eye out. His gait is easy-going, he's clearly not nervous about something, but he's just keeping an eye on the area. The wind ruffles his wavy hair, and no amount of finger-combing can tame it back down, alas.

Captain America has posed:
If there's one thing that Steve just can't pass up when he's in the area, it's not Coney Island itself. It's not the rides or the crowds or the kitzchy games tucked away in the stalls, promising a giant teddy bear if you throw three hoops on the stick (too easy anyways, that one). It's the elephant ears. He's gone civilian as he always does when out and about, hoping that the baseball cap and aviator glasses will keep him from being //immediately// noticed. There's no guarantee -- there never is -- that even wearing a black leather jacket and jeans like your average New Yorker in winter will keep him anonymous.

Having scored one hot from the stand, he's in the process of making his way towards the boardwalk half of things. He's got it torn in half and is avidly enjoying it, not paying attention to where he's holding the other rapidly-cooling half as he walks along. Right at nose level for that yellow lab.

Rowan Saunders has posed:
Rowan notices the impending disaster in time to say, "Oh! Watch out!" But is it in time? When there is a big, stout dog straining on the leash as that ever active nose picks up the scent of fresh pastry? Rowan digs his heels in and says, "Sonny, heel. Heel!" Sonny's having none of it. That elephant ear is so close he's already got his mouth open to chomp, his tail whumping back and forth.

Rowan is dressed for colder weather. He's got on a sweater over a buttonup, and a coat on over that, with a scarf and gloves. The tip of his nose is red from the chill, and he's apple-cheeked. His khakis are very professional, even on his day off.

Captain America has posed:
"Geez!" Steve pulls the food up and away from the gaping mouth, slobbery tongue and all, and side-steps out of immediate reach of the dog -- unless it decides to continue pulling forwards. "Sorry about that, didn't mean to lead him on. Not for you, boy," the tall and broad-shouldered man then adds to the wiggly lab. "I don't think these are good for dogs." He gives the owner a questioning look from behind his aviator glasses. No doubt they're clean enough that Rowan could see his reflection clearly if he got close enough.

Rowan Saunders has posed:
Fortunately for Steve, the stout dog is also a little too rotund to make any last-minute surges toward the elephant ear. The good-natured beast continues to wag, panting for his effort, and Rowan finally brings him to heel. "You don't need pastries," he informs the dog.

Rowan looks at Steve, or rather his reflection in those aviators. "I'm really sorry. Sonny's a nice dog, but he thinks everything is good for him." He glances at the dog. "I'm afraid my parents think so, too. Sonny, sit." The dog sits, so at least he's that much trained. "I'm walking him for them. He needs the exercise."

Captain America has posed:
One can see Steve's brows disappear upwards beyond the shadow of the bill of his cap. "He could certainly use the exercise." Yep. Steve Rogers just called that dog fat. Calling it like it is since 1918. "It's about a mile if you make your way to the Boticelli Deli from here. The place's nice. It's run by old Mister Boticelli -- " The blond man stops himself and purses his lips for a second. "Sorry, wrong owner. It's owned by his great-granddaughter now, Delilah and her husband Mike. Very nice young lady, knows her way around a pastrami sandwich. Mike's always good for a laugh," he informs Rowan.

Rowan Saunders has posed:
Rowan grins as he says, "Oh yeah, Delilah and Mike." Though he's clearly had some book learning, there's still the ghost of that Brooklyn accent in his voice. When Brooklyn is the topic, it flourishes. "Nice folks. Old man Boticelli hasn't owned that place for ages." What are the chances his idea of 'old man' Botichelli is someome who wasn't even born yet when Steve when in the ice?

Rowan extends his hand to Steve, no offense taken at the dog being called fat. It is what it is. "I'm Rowan," he says. "Rowan Saunders. Thanks for being so cool about Sonny, here." Sonny has gone from sitting to splaying on his belly on the ground. All this walking is wearing him out, man.

Captain America has posed:
Steve picks up on the accent and there's a subtle loosening to his posture, as if he's secretly glad to find himself in good company. Well, by definition of childhood borough, at least. He glances down briefly, chin dropping, to manuever the elephant ear all back into its original paper sack and out of immediate sight of poor winded Sonny.

A quick brush-off of his palm on his jeans and he returns Rowan's handshake. "Steve. Nice to meet you, Rowan. Sonny's not a problem, no worries. He might be an issue if he steals a hot dog from a kid though." Tsk, Sonny, tsk. "You're from Brooklyn though? I can hear it. You know the Boticelli family? Lorenzo owned the place first. He died of TB back in '45."

Which either makes Steve a stalker or...

Rowan Saunders has posed:
Rowan shakes Steve's hand firmly, though of course he only has the strength of a mortal man. "Yeah, I gotta keep a better eye on him. He's a good boy til temptation is within reach." He eyes the dog, who looks up at both of them with big brown eyes. He's not a bad dog, he's just got a big appetite.

"Born and raised," Rowan says to Steve. "Used to go to that deli every weekend when I was in high school. I don't get there that much these days, but once in awhile. They've got the best pastrami in town. I must've been just a kid the first time I went there with my folks.

Rowan tilts his head curiously at Steve. "That was a bit before my time," he says, not without humor. "But I know it's been in the family forever."

Captain America has posed:
"Oh. Right." A short shake of his head and a mildly embarrassed little smile. "Well...Lorenzo was a good guy. I'm glad he decided to keep the place in the family. A lot has changed in that borough since I lived there." Understatement of literally the century, that. "But are you a Dodgers or a Yankees fan?" Steve's stance is clear. The Dodgers logo is on his baseball cap. He takes off the aviators since the wane winter sun has gone behind the grey clouds and tucks them to hang from the shirt showing through the leather jacket. Bright blue eyes, clear as dawn, consider Rowan again as he waits for the answer.

Rowan Saunders has posed:
Rowan glances at the baseball cap. Yeah, he knows he's treading on thin ice here, and he grins, his cheeks dimpling. "I gotta stand by my Grandpa and go with the Dodgers," he says. "You never know, they might come back someday." Even if his father refers to them as 'the bums,' Rowan's going with Gramps on this one.

He looks Steve in the eyes, and his smile broadens just a little. The Star Spangled Man with a plan has a fair face, and anyone would be a fool not to see it. "Makes me wish I lived back then. I would've loved to see a game here at home."

Captain America has posed:
Steve catches the moment when he's recognized and looks briefly off to one side, down the boardwalk, and then down the other, as if making sure that no one else is going to come along and immediately interrupt their perfectly normal conversation.

"Only went to a few games," he informs Rowan then, looking back to the man. "I listened to most of them on the radio. Might as well have known the players by face regardless." He then smiles just enough to make his own faint dimples show. "Pete Reiser and his grandslam in '41. That was a hell of a sight." He shifts his weight to one foot and adds, "No point in hiding it anymore at this point. Still, just call me Steve." There, a proper introduction.

Rowan Saunders has posed:
Rowan nods avidly, and he otherwise keeps on conservsing. One does not call attention to Steve Rogers loudly and in an embarrassing fashion. It is not done. "Well, Just Steve, I would've loved to have been there. These days, it's all so commercialized, but I won't lie, I still watch it. It's still America's game."

Sonny starts to snore, and Rowan says, "Hey, you're supposed to be getting fit, ya lump." The dog opens his eyes blearily and sighs a long doggy sigh. Can't he just eat and sleep? Why all the walking? Rowan shakes his head. "Hopeless."

Captain America has posed:
"If you sleep too long, you miss important things." This he informs Sonny in a rather dry tone, no doubt ignored because he did not share his elephant ear. It's a hard life for a dog. Steve looks back to Rowan and shrugs.

"I don't mind watching it on the television, but there's something about hearing it broadcast on the radio." Probably one of the lingering nostalgic connections to a life now lost to him. "It's a shame they try and fit so many advertisements into the broadcast. They used to tell you useful things, like in-depth player statistics and the man-at-bat's favorite pie." Young-faced Steve, grumping like an old man.

Rowan Saunders has posed:
"I'm afraid everything is commidified these days," Rowan says. "Though I guess now you can go on Wikipedia to find out a batter's favorite pie. Technology giveth, technology taketh away." He gives the leash a gentle tug. "Up," he tells him. Sonny grunts, but he drags himself to his paws and ambles over, tail wagging. There are no hard feelings about the lack of pastry, though he does eye it.

"It was nice meeting you, Steve," Rowan says, and he offers another handshake. "I should get this guy moving again. I'm not sure how much progress we made today, but it beats sitting on the couch all day." Sonny probably doesn't agree. "Maybe we'll run into each other again. That's be cool."

Captain America has posed:
"Isn't that the truth." In terms of technology's boon and bane. The handshake is returned with care as to not crank down on normal human fingerbones and Steve plucks his aviator sunglasses from his shirt with one hand. He unfolds the arms of the glasses as he reples,

"It's a big city, but you never know. I run into people all the time that I never expect to see." By his tone, that's apparently delightful on a case-by-case basis. "Nice to meet you too, Rowan. Enjoy the travel, even if it takes you a while. Sonny will appreciate you working him up to speed slowly. Gotta walk before you can run." He gives Sonny the lab a fond smile before then giving Rowan a small wave. Off he goes down the boardwalk then, now able to fully appreciate his elephant ear.