Summary:Two short guys meet in Harlem. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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Construction is ongoing. The slow process of rebuilding Harlem grinds on. It means a lot of business for tradies, some of which spills over into the local businesses. Elmo, one of said tradies, is popping the power box against one of the building open. He's wearing a toolbelt full of mysterious electrician gear and an irritated frown. His toolbox sits open nearby.
Reno lets his feet bring him down the street, slow but familir paths looking very different. He wals tall for a 5'5" Puerto Rican. He's got the bounce when he moves but it's not like he owns the place. Feet stop running hand over a newer building that has the mid-modern 70's construction, and almost instantly recoiling it. Dark, warm eyes look to the new project and then to teh smallish electrician near by. "Hey. You workin on that project? What're they like puttin up there?"
Elmo squints over his shoulder at the Puerto Rican almost as short as he is. "Eh, buncha high rises. Gentrifyin' up the place." His eyes flick up to the budding tower, then he makes a wordless sound of Yiddish disgust and turns back to the guts of the power box.
Reno blinks and mulls the possibility over, "So it gets to be somethin new. Just wish they didn't have to chance so much." Looking around and back to the other dimunitive man he observes with a sigh, "Neighborhood already looks real different." Looking around and back he looks to Elmo wndering out loud, "I'm guessin the folks didn't have big robot insurance enither, huh?"
Elmo snorts. "Who has robot insurance in New York?" His hands go to and from his tool pouches, working on whatever it is he's got the power box open for. "Yeah. It's a real shame. Nobody who actually lives here is gonna be able to afford it. They're doin' the same on the Lower East Side." Which has to be where this guy is from, with that hilly Yiddish music in his voice.
Reno chuckles ruefully with an easy grin, "Eh, my guess is probably not enough people." With a side nod to one of the floors above the barber shop he had to agree with a look of commiseration, "Tell me about it. Before I moved away a bit that used to be my place up there. Dude… place don't look the same. Deifiniately don't cost the same." Looking over his shoulder like somehow he can see the lower east side a look of mild alarm comes to his face immediately, "Aww noooo tell me that lil bagel place at Essex and Delancey didn't close man! They got these little roll things they do in the morning. I dunno what they're called but there was this lil bald dude that like would get up and make em every morning " Pausing he remembers when he is and muses, "That might be his son Dion that now. Hey, man what time you think they close?" Mourning the retirement of the shop to wondering if they're open because he needs a bagel apparently right now all in one breath. His brain may be powered by an amusement park.
Elmo slowly looks back over his shoulder at all the rattling on happening behind him. "…Rugelach?" he hazards a guess, eyebrows going up in bemusement. "That place is still there. Think they close at 3. That's usually when the bagel places close. Yannow, the old ones, anyway."
Reno flaps a hand with some animate excitement to it at Elmo, "Yeaheyahyeah that's the one. Yeaaaaaah you gotta find them older places. They do it right. Went into a place since I got back they tried to hand me this friend thing. I was like what is this? Who don't bake a bagel?! It's criminal. You go a way for a lil bit and you come back and some dude wanna fry everything. Like a bagel ain't got enough calories in it that it's gonna try to roll away if you don't weigh it down with more damn calories. Ay man. See? You know what's up. You got a name, guy?"
Elmo can't help it, he snickers. "These hipsters, they don't know nothin'." Even though he could easily be classified as a hipster, from his clothes (tailored and colorful) and his age (really, really young). "Yeah I got a name, who wants to know? I also got a job." He points meaningfully at the mess of wires and alligator clips.
Reno pulls up both hands out of his pockets on the defense, "Woah, hey I was just trying to be polite. I can call you dudeguy it's cool!" Man if a guy can go from casual to oh god don't throw things at me in .02 seconds flat it's this guy. Looking over he does apologize by way of offering, "Hey I appreciate you taking the time to answer alla same. I didn't mean to interrupt ya know, your whole to-do. Just wanted to know what the hell's happening to my neighborhood."
Elmo blinks at Reno, taken by surprise by the sudden change. He kind of pulls back, too, worry tilting his eyebrows. "You, uh, you been outta town for a while, huh?" he says, cautiously. He jerks his head at the construction. "These places gettin' put up by Fisk and Trump and whoever, right? They're doing it in my neighborhood. Driving property up, drivin' out the old folks and people whose families lived there for generations. Like mine. And I still gotta work for the pricks." He eyes the other short guy. "I'm Elmo," he says, like he's offering Reno a dubious favor.
Reno looks…wow! Disappointed, wholly. "Maaaaan what poor behavior. Man lemme tell ya generations can go by and there still some asshole thinkin just cause they have the resources they can destroy a legacy of people that help build up the place to put a pretty buildin on it." Looking around he reasoned, "Guess that's how New York kinda got its second start though. Still a bummer, man." The tentive offer of a name is met with a small smile and a nod of approval. "Reno. Nice t'meet you man."