2019-04-20 - Morning GLory Goes to Shwarma


Eve and America go out for shwarma! Discussion ensues.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Sat Apr 20 00:00:00 2019
Location: An unnamed shwarma joint in Midtown.

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Theme Song



It's a beautiful day and Eve is missing it entirely.

One of the reasons she lives on the top of a taller building is to minimize the amount of 'life' she senses. Oh, sure. She can sense a bird when she's near enough to the walls and one passes within the bubble that surrounds her, so to speak, but oinly occasioinally sensing the presence of her neighbors above and below and to the sides is better than sensing all the life all around her. She needs her space. It's good for her sanity. ^r
But that doesn't mean she doesn't like socializing. Streaming over the internet, Eve is playing the Division 2 with a handful of people, laughing and chatting and keepin' busy…. and then her phone rings.

She answers the gothy-cased black phone with a cheerful, "Yo!"

"Hey. Eve, right? You gave me your number the other night. We were talking about… Flowers, mostly." America's voice is distinct, a bit rough but quite distinctive. A vibrant tone kept carefully neutral. "Oh, am I interrupting anything?" No doubt she heard the game playing in the background. "Just wanted to see if you still wanted to hang out." America's path is carrying her through a park near Midtown, past a jungle gym and sandbox, across the spongy grass. Her phone is tucked against her ear as she passes a couple kids playing.

"Oh!" A pause. "Sure! Yeah, I can do that. I'm not doing anything." Sure, why not? What can go wrong just hanging out? Truth be told, Eve's aware she needs to get out more. GEt out of her comfort zone. Too much time spent on the internet and the movies isn't good for her.

"LIke… right now? Where are you?"

"I'm in Midtown walking through a park," America replies with a faint shrug of her shoulders. "And yes. Now. Where do I meet you?" Her tone doesn't brook any argument. Nothing ventured, nothing againd, after all. She passes a seesaw and makes her way toward the entrance to the little park with long, slow strides. America isn't in much of a hurry.

"Oh! I can come to Midtown. Sure," says Eve, "Just give me a bit ot get dressed." Who sits at home playing video games fully dressed? "I'll call you when I'm close."

And then she hangs up.

It'll be about 20 minutes — hey, she has to drive there — when the phon erings again. "Okay! I'm getting there."

"I can meet you. Where in Midtown are you exactly?" America arches a brow at the phone at this point. SHe'd been waiting, more or less, to ask that question since right before Eve had hung up. For the most part, the teen spent that free time wandering through Midtown until she found herself near a promising looking shwarma restaurant. America looks up at it and squints for a second. The world goes on peaceably behind her.

"Oh! I was going to go the big park. I thought you were there," says Eve, a bit discombobulated before she starts laughing. Still, she sends her location to America's phone, which indicates she's at the south end and getting closer.

It won't be long before they can link up. Phones are awesome.

Soon enough they end up maeeting out side the shwarma restaurant. America has just hung up her phone and turned to stare at the building, arms crossed over her chest. She's wearing that denim jacket nad hoodie combination, keeping her patriotic red white and blue theme, replete with stars on the fringe of her jacket and her arms. She looks up as Eve's car is approaching her location. "You never even told me what you wanted to go do," she observes after a moment. "Or are we going to wander and look at flowers some more? I know you don't get to see enough of them the rest of the time, so…"

"I mean, I figured you wanted to walk through the park but we can totally do something else if you like," says Eve. "I thought that's WHY you were at the park. You wanted more flower talk>" She does get out of the car. Eyes the SChwarma place.

"Well, maybe. First. Are you hungry?" America indicates the restaurant wqith a tilt of her head. She turns slightly to look over the door. "I have it on high authority that this place makes the best schwarma in NYC." It's a hole in the wall no one even knows about. There's one customer inside. One might wonder hwo America came to this conclusion. "If you're up for that."

"Sure, I could eat." Eve is always hungry, to a certain extent, but she never actually NEEDS to eat.

Not that America knows this, of course, but the Goth is heading inside the building with a cheerful smile.

"So, you know. As it turns out this place actually is /really/ good," America will state conversationally past half of her (third) shwarma, holding the wrapper in her left hand, obscuring half of her face. "I wasn't sure because I hadn't tried it yet but they came through. I can see why it gets such good reviews." Not that there are really many reviews to be found. America's information always comes from weird places, though. Or perhaps she's making it up.

Intereting factoid: when you don't need to eat but can actually eat as much as you want whenever you want, you're more than capable of keeping up with someone who's eating three schwarmas. Eve, perhaps a trifle competitive or maybe she just likes the food, is content to get another. She's gonna be on number four before long.

"Yeah, not bad at all," she casually agrees. "I mean, there's always gonna be some place you can find if you look hard enough that's great and yet nobody really knows about it. It's city-legend-and-lore," she gives a nod of her head, blue hair drifting into her eyes.

"SOmething like that," America agrees. She takes a deep breath then, arching a brow as she watches Eve down her fourth schwarma. "Where are you putting all of that?" America is much taller and has plenty of muscles on that full frame of hers. By contrast, a schwarma is about the size of Eve's face. Still, the girl watches with a sly grin. "Did you skip breakfast or something?"

"Mmn? Are they really that filling?" asks Eve, deflecting the question with a playful smile. "They're good! I can worry about my stomach later." She puts a hand on it to pat. She definitely does not have that kind of frame, but then, maybe she moonlights as a competitive eater. Or maybe she's made of a thousand hungry maws seeking to consume all in their path.


"I mean, one is usually enough for a grown man. So not /that/ filling." America takes another large bite out of her /third/ schwarma, quickly polishing it off so that she can toss the wrapper aside. "Glad you like it," she continues after a moment. "Next we need to do something that will completely blow your mind. Ideas?"

"…wait, what? I… no?" Eve says, laughing. "I got no ideas, actually, onm that front. I did meet your friend, thoiugh. The one you were with the first time I met you." Very smooth, Eve. You're so smooth.

"She said she's from Asgard." SMOOTH.

"Yeah, I don't think she's really hiding it," America replies drily. She doesn't seem to be the slightest bit surprised by that information. "Did she tell you to kick her too?"

"Nooooo, but she did mention you were strong enough to spar with her and be a challenge." She eyes her shwarma, waiting to see her response to that. "You'll need to, you know, forgive her for that. She was kinda drunk at the time." Not that this helps at all.

"She's always drunk," AMerica grumbles, a brow arching as she does. "I'm stronger than she is," she'll state seriously then. "If that helps anything." Not that it's likely to. "She needs to learn to keep a secret."

"Probably. I guess when you're apparently three thousand years old or something you might get your tongue a little loose. So, it's true, then? You're like… super-strong?" She lifts her eyes up to America now, curious. Genuinely so!

"The strongest," America replies rather confidently. "Or close to it." She'll nod once, gauging Eve's reaction with a faint frown. "Brunn's the first one who wanted to compare our deadlifts."

"Wow," is what Eve says. "That's pretty… Well. It's only fair I tell you: I'm Morning Glory, too." America has probably never, ever heard of her. She's that minor.

But Eve is smiling like she /hopes/ America totally has. It clearly means something!

"…Morning Glory?" America starts briefly, eyes widening. Then she quickly shakes her head. "Awesome. Nice to meet you. You're one of my favourite flowers," she'll relate helpfully. "Is everyone a superhero in this fucking town?"

"Wwaaaaaaaaaaaaait. You HAVE heard of me? And here I was all set to tease you about not recognizing me and being hurt by that and catch you on your back feet and you actually DO get it?" Eve makes a face at her, disappointed. "I mean, I can make flowers prettier. I'm an /incredibly/ competent super-hero." Her tone is warm and humored, here.

"More competent than you think. Can you imagine if the Joker has floral allergies?" America arches a brow at that. She balls up the wrapper for her latest sandwich and lobs it across the restaurant and into one of the garbage cans. "You might have more pull than you think."

"Eh, maybe! But it's not 'the strongest'. I'm pretty sure you could rip me in two if you wanted to." In reality, Eve would survive this but it'd be a highly unpleasent moment for her. She did wince at the mention of the Joker, though. "Ugh. Don't even talk about the Stanton Island set. Those are the /worst/."

"I don't know, Harley Quinn is kind of cute in that evil clown kind of way," America will reply without missing a beat.

"…ugggggh," is Eve's response, cringing into her seat and sinking down into it. "I've met one once before. The plant one, of course. She was all 'a kindred soul!' and I was all 'You're a creepy weirdo!' though I suppose we're on okay terms." She seems a bit uncomfortable with that. For fairly obvious reasons.

"I mean, they're all crazy. What do you expect?" America asks in what might be mistaken as the most reasonable tone ever taken. She shrugs slowly. "Staten Island is weird. And I know weird."

"I stay the hell away from it," agrees Eve. "Who wants to get caught up in that mess? So what's the weirdest thing you've seen?" she asks, now curious, leaning forward as she does.

"The world without shrimp," America replies with a slow shrug. "You don't want to know."

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