Summary:Two people bond briefly over pickles. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It hadn't been a bad day for Barbara. Work at the library went about as well as could be expected, which meant she thoroughly enjoyed herself as she reshelved books and audio/visual media. If anyone could read her mind, they'd likely be worried at how much enjoyment she drew from handling books and keeping track of checkout status and such. After her shift, she had gone over to the Staten Island Police Headquarters to give them a hand with some server and network upkeep - before returning to the library to finish more shelving after hours where she wouldn't be interrupted.
At 11:03pm the redhead emerged from the building, arming the security system and locking up. She turned, then, and began to unhurriedly walk down the many stone stairs of the grand, gothic styled entrance. Yes, it had been a very successful day.
Jason has not been having a good day. He hasn't been having a good several months, in fact. He had a failed encounter with his mother and little sister just the other day, and he's been beating himself up over it since. He helped himself get over it by going out earlier tonight and beating the snot out of several thugs in a back alleyway, but unlike the old days, he didn't kill them. One of them will never hold a gun again, though, and the other two might have a limp for the rest of their lives.
A little beaten up, but mostly just tired, Jason heads to one of the only sure things he knows of in this city : Barbara is going to be working late at the library. Some things never change. Jeans, boots, a faded Talking Heads t-shirt under a jean jacket with a baseball cap, someone would need to know who to look for to recognize Jason at first glance. He spots Barbara leaving the library from a few buildings up and takes a deep breath, beginning to follow her. She'll likely notice in a block or so. The lone figure keeping pace.
Barbara Gordon wasn't the kind of woman to go crazy over expensive purses or hand bags. Okay, she had a few Dooney and Bourke purses - which were more expensive than the things one would find at a Bullseye or L-Mart. But she only bought those because they had characters from some of her favorite movies and she could still rebel against High Society by attending Bruce's gala's and events dressed lavishly, while still repping nerds and geeks everywhere. No, in her day to day, Babs was a backpack sort of girl. Still not so removed from her college years, plus it was simply more practical. Tablets and laptops don't fit in purses.
When Barbara noticed her shadow, she was indeed a few blocks from the library, and still a little over four more to her apartment. Her hand instinctively tightened around the backpack strap but she continued her pace. Running wouldn't make it any better. And it could be a coincidence. After 11pm.
After another block he dips into a side-alley. He's been learning this area all day, and knows how to get where he is going. As she keeps the same pace, he picks his own up. He moves through the alleyways swiftly, hopping trash cans. He ends up between Barbara and her apartment…but only just.
As the redhead turns a corner and spots her apartment building, she finds the man sitting on the stoop in front of the building's door. He glances up and reaches up, pulling his baseball cap off. She'll probably recognize him immediatly, fresh black eye and all. "Uh. Hey, Barbara," he calls out to her. He lifts a brown paper back with a bottle in it. "Drinks?" Yeah, just like that. He is nervous as hell, but not showing it.
Barbara Gordon completely expected something was going to happen - and was convinced she was right when her shadow disappeared when it did. But she wasn't prepared for it, him, to return in front of her. On her apartment doorstep. Or that her shadow would turn out to be,
"…Jason…"
The surprise on her face was reflected in her eyes. She just did not see this coming. She had stoppped short of the stairway, still beyond arm's reach as she looked at someone who had disappeared two years prior and, if she was completely honest, may well have killed himself, or been killed, given the mental issues to be battled.
She looked at him in silence for almost a minute before looking to the sack with a bottle in it then back to his face.
"The last time I saw you? You broke three of my ribs. Two more were fractured and both of my kidneys were bruised."
She doesn't answer the offer for drinks as she waits to judge his response to her comment about that time where Red Hood attacked Batgirl.
He flinches as if struck, but does his best to keep a stoic face. To a person who didn't know him he'd seem uneffected. She pretty much grew up with Jason, though, and she can still read him like a book. The slight sag to his muscled shoulders. The nervous shift of a planted foot. She can read his profound regret in his body, even if he barely shows it in his face. Instead, he furrows his brow and glances down at the bag.
"I did a lot worse to a lot of other people, Babs. You don't need to forgive me for it. I don't deserve that. But I…" He trails off and glances away from her, to an unspecific space down the street. Anywhere but her eyes.
"…I didn't want to be alone tonight. I can't go to the Manor. I…don't know anybody else." Nobody that isn't some crooked contact. "I'm, uh…back in town, by the way…"
Back in town. Well that was going to go over well, wasn't it? Part of her really wanted to be there to see -those- fireworks. There are no family reunions like Bat Family reunions.
She watches his reaction. She sees the change in demeanor. the little movements she remembered so vividly.
"Yes. You murdered …. it doesn't matter how many. You did it." She still hasn't moved.
"But you know what? I almost could forgive you for those. Even if that isn't how we were trained, isn't how we did things, how we still do things. They were all among the worse criminals ever to exist on Staten Island. But /we/ were not strangers." She felt betrayed. She knew he had been brainwashed. But somewhere deep down she felt that he should have been able to fight it. Batman could have. Would have.
But no, that isn't fair to believe or to hold against anyone who is not Batman. Only the Batman could have the resolve to beat attempts at mind control.
She regretted her accusation the moment she said it. The moment she realized she was judging Jason against the Shadow of the Bat. Against that shadow? Who could be found equal? She wasn't certain it was possible to answer that question.
She looks to the man in front of her again. Lost. Afraid. Clearly in need.
"You can sleep on the couch. I wasn't expecting company so there isn't much to eat that isn't leftover Chinese."
She watches him, waiting for his response.
"I have a place of my own. It's just empty. I'll head back there before hitting the sack. I just needed someone to be with tonight." She wasn't far off when she earlier thought about him offing himself. He hasn't been fully right since waking up in his own coffin and having to dig his way out. He's had his gun in his own mouth on more then one night…this one included.
He clears his throat and rises, holding the back up. "Drinks, like I said. Company. Conversation. We have some catching up to do, right?"
Barbara Gordon nods, albeit curtly. She's tense. Expecting him to attack her at any moment, really.
Pushing past him, she moves to the door, unlocking it with her building ID - gone were the days of doormen. Now it was just an RFID pad that determined who could be let in or not. She held the door for him with her foot then began to climb the stairs. It would be three flights up but she was not about to risk being in an elevator with him, yet.
A final glance at him over her shoulder then she silently unlocked her door and let him enter first, following after.
Her place looked more like a college dorm than an apartment. A basket of unfolded laundry. Some dishes in need of washing. paperwork strewn all about the very fancy computer desk. And computers? There are at least seven of them. A few being server towers, a few laptops. And the array of wide screen displays looks like something out of a scifi or military movie where the good guys are fighting evil hackers or aliens. Everything on the computer desk is easily worth more than the rest of the items in her apartment combined.
Dropping her backpack near the computer desk, she turns to gesture toward the couch while she goes to get a couple glasses, asking finally, "what are we drinking?"
.~{:--------------:}~.
Jason stands a bit awkwardly near the door, glancing about the apartment for a long, quiet moment. He finally clears his throat and follows her towards the counter. "Nice place," he says, as he sets the bag on the counter. He reaches into it and withdraws a bottle of decent Vodka, and a six pack of Hero Energy. "I have a decent memory, sometimes," he offers with a small, lopsided smile.
He brushes his fingers back through his dark hair, the white streak in it something that came with his mysterious ressurrection.
Barbara Gordon gets out two glasses and smiles at the compliment of her place. "Thanks. I don't get to spend as much time here as I may like. But I'm happy with it's amenaties and location." She moves to the counter, setting the glasses down and taking out the bottle. She looks at the label and smiles faintly once again. "Well now you're just trying to appeal to College Coed Barbara aren't you?" She sets the bottle down with a laugh and turns to the 'fridge to take out two fruity punch flavored energy drinks. She opens each and fills the glasses about two thirds with the bright red liquid before opening the vodka and topping each off. It's a generous amount considering. It seems like it's going to be one of those evenings and conversations. She offers one glass to Jason, gesturing to the living space. "Have a seat if you like."
He nods a bit to that. "Well, you always kept yourself pretty busy. Got that from your dad, I figure." He smirks at her comment about college co-ed Babs and shrugs a muscled shoulder. "I was going to spend the night drinking alone at home, and figured this'd be better." He eyes the glass and then nods, taking it from her. He walks over to the living room and glances about it for a moment before he slides down to sit on the couch.
Barbara Gordon nods, agreeing with that assessment. "Probably. He's always at the precinct these days." She moves to take a seat on the other end from him. "You say that now. You might change your mind later" she says with a wry smile. "How long have you been back, Jason?" she asks it carefully; uncertain yet if this is going to be a stable and polite visit or if it's going to turn sour unexpectedly.
The man chuckles softly and leans back on the couch, trying to get comfortable. He's got a lot of nervous energy, though, and he shifts quite constantly. He brings the drink to his lips for a long sip before he glances over at her. "Uh, about a month, or so. Not too long. I've been keeping my head down, mostly. Establish myself. Setting up my own place and shit."
Barbara Gordon hasn't taken a sip of her drink yet, just holding it as she listens. She nods then pauses a moment. "Is this going to go - differently - than last time you came home?" She watches him carefully, studying his reaction and response.
He furrows his brow and is silent for a long moment, glancing down into his drink. "I hope it does. I'm…not the same as I was then. Just like I wasn't the same as I was…before." He lifts his drink for another sip. "…Maybe this was a mistake. People probably aren't ready for…me…yet."
Barbara Gordon finally sips her drink then shakes her head, "You're wrong, Jason. You're family. But one bitten…" she shrugs. "I think it's going to be hard for you to come to face the results of your actions. Even if you weren't fully responsible - and I understand that. But you still carried out the actions, unwillingly or not. That had a tremendous impact on everyone." She sighs and looks at him. "But you know how the Family is. If you show yourself to Him as genuinely focused on changing and getting better? He may make things hard on you for a while just to see if you'll crack. If you'll give up. But if you don't, if you remain determined to change for the better. He'll accept you back."
Jason brushes his hand over his face and back through his hair as he listens to her. "Bruce is…well. I haven't seen him yet. I bet Helena and Selina have told him I'm back, though. I don't really know how all of that is gonna go. My encounter with Helena and mom was…" He trails off and sits up a bit, before rising to his feet. He stays near the couch, though, just hesitating. "It went bad, but not as bad as it could have gone, considering I shot her before. She -did- hit me with a car, but…it was later on…"
Barbara Gordon watches him and remains seated. Cautious but not afraid. She nods. "I remember. It wasn't good. What you did. But if you recognize that, it's a big step toward making things right." She sip sher drink again and stands. "Listen.. whatever you want to talk about? You pick the subject and we'll go with it."
"I know it wasn't good. I shot my mom," he growls softly. Well, his adopted mom, but Selina was there for him WAY more then his real one ever was. He sighs and brings his glass to his lips, draining it. "I don't know what I want to talk about. I just didn't want to be alone tonight."
Barbara Gordon looks at him sharply. "And how many others, Jason. How many?" She shakes her head, "If you only regret shooting her..?" She shrugs and goes to refill both of their glasses and returns, offering his glass back. "Then we can just sit quietly. I'm not going to kick you out or chase you off." She looks to him, "I'm… glad.. you're back. The real you. Things have changed. But it doesn't mean things will be worse because you've come back. I think they'll be much better."
"186," he replies smoothly. "Killers, rapists, pedophiles, drug dealers. I put one hundred and eighty six in the ground. Each one was a piece of shit, Babs. Every single one." He glances over at her, his tone soft. "And even though they were walking garbage, I see -every- single face when I try to sleep at night."
Barbara Gordon looks at him as he talks. She nods quietly. "I can't imagine what it's like. Stopping them all was good." It was the method that caused such a rift in the 'Family' as it were. She sighs. "It wasn't easy seeing you that way." She moves to sit again whether he does or not. "… what happened before you came back here? I heard a report you'd escaped? Is that true?"
Jason Todd nods. He considers for a moment and then moves to the kitchen to refill his drink. "Bruce put me in this…institution. He paid for good help for me, to be fair. But being locked up like that was hard for me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't." He makes his way back over and slips back onto the couch, half-facing her. "I broke out eventually and left. Travelled Europe but settled in France. It's a really long story, but I got a job at a chateau. I mostly worked in the owner's garage on his cars, but eventually I got out into the garden, too. It was…good for me."
Barbara Gordon listens and nods. "Well then I'm glad you were able to find a way to work through things." She smiles and walks over, this time just filling her glass with the energy drink and none of the alcohol. "It's good to have you back, Jason." She offers another smile and then offers him a hug. If she doesn't show him she trusts him, how can he ever get past feeling at odds her?
He starts to say something about the life in France, but he hesitates and then trails off. "Yeah. Work through things." He pauses when she goes to hug him, but then leans in to take it. He rests his head on hers and holds her close. The hug lasts as long as she allows it. The man clearly, clearly needs it…and didn't even realise that he did.
Barbara Gordon hugs him and doesn't pull away. "I'm sure this isn't easy. Any of it. When you're ready to talk, if that time ever comes, you can always talk to me. It isn't exactly a Family strong point - admitting emotions or feelings." She laughs softly as she leans against him.
Jason Todd chuckles and holds her close. "It really isn't, no." After a moment he realises he is enjoying the closeness more then makes him comfortable, and the young man gentle releases her. She likely notices that he gives off a surprising amount of body heat. More then normal. "So…what have -you- been up to, huh?"
Barbara Gordon steps back when he does and she nods. "Well. I'm not going to make it any harder for you if I can help it." She glances back, "Well… Working with the New York Public Library system…" She smirks, "After all these years I really am a nerdy librarian like you used to tease me." Brushing her hair from her cheek she continues, "I've been working with the Staten Islend police department. Their records system looked like a hurricane hit it and their network was still making use of dialup modems. /Modems!/" she complains. "I've helped them get into the 21st century finally. But now all the old guard distrust the system. They think it's spying on them. Even my dad" she laughs.
The man nods a bit to that, chuckling softly. "Nice. All of that. I envy you a normal job, but…I don't think I could handle it, either way. I'd go a bit crazy. Are you still wearing the cowl, too? You always looked good in it." He sits back and sips his drink, watching her.
Barbara Gordon grins some. "Well… I did go to college to get my criminology and cyber terrorism degrees. Then i got my masters in Library and Information sciences.. so is it really any wonder?" She sets her half finished glass down on the side table then nods. "I am. Now that I've got a regular schedule, it's easier again to get out and help." She then comments, "Also, if you hadn't heard, Ivy has.. as it's said, turned over a new leaf. She was offered a chance to work for the government. She's helping recover the devestation. She's done an incredible job in bringing nature back to replace all the scars and scorched earth."
Jason Todd looks surprised at that, and he looks like he is about to say something snide, but he catches himself. "Eh. If I can look for a new start, so can she." He brushes his fingers back through his hair and sighs. "I'm proud of you, Babs. You've done well. You deserve that regularity and sense of accomplishment." He brings his drink back to his lips for another pull.
Barbara Gordon nods. "I've been checking in on her - Batgirl has rather - for a few weeks. She hasn't been sure what to do with herself when she isn't working. She's found she likes having friends. So I… think.. you could say that Batgirl and Ivy are friends now. More than acquaintances at least."
Jason Todd blinks at that and then chuckles. "Wow. Well, good for you two, then." He sets his glass aside for the moment. "I don't know if I really have friends. Well, not here. I did back in France but…that all went tits-up." He shrugs his well-muscled shoulders and glances back over at Barbars.
Barbara Gordon laughs some. "well no one can be completely alone. Even introverts need a few close trusted friends." She nods to him. "Well whether you considered it or not, Bruce and I were always there to consider ourselves friends of yours. Even if he shows it in the strangest of waves usually.
"Bruce never knew if he was my friend, my mentor or my dad," Jason grunts. "They are not all the same." Jason knows which one he considers him, even if he wrestles with it in the rougher times. "But…thanks."
Barbara Gordon nods. "I know." She then smiles. "You're welcome, Jason. You don't have to go through this alone. Just remember that. okay?"
The fabled Katz's deli was long gone in Rachel's time. She'd been making a list of places she'd heard about that she wanted to check out, as well as gotten ideas from other sources. Kitty. Jean. The occasional random New Yorker who was thinking SO HARD about wanting something from Katz's Deli that she just had to come and check it out. The redhead now stands in line looking over the deli case looking completely out of her depth.
"What do you want?" Asks the counterman to which her reply is a deer in the headlights gaze. "I… don't know. Um. What's most popular?" This just gets her a glare along with a very not nice thought that causes her to wince. It was never easy blocking out the thoughts of people thinking right at her. In fact she often didn't. It was a great way to ensure she wasn't snuck up on by potential assassins.
"Pastrami," she blurts out. "And a drink."
"Smart choice," Jason states from behind Rachel in line. "She wants extra pickles on the side, too," he says over her shoulder to the cashier. He glances at Rachel and adds, "Trust me."
The young man behind her in line is dressed in a pair of tight black jeans, boots, a Smashing Pumpkins shirt (Circa the 90's), and a leather jacket. A Cubs cap is pulled low on his dark hair. "Haven't been in here in a few years, but their pickles are fucking great." His voice is deep, with a pleasant growl to the edges of his words.
Rachel Summers lets out a small breath. Not quite a sigh but darn close as she lets some obvious tension relax out of her shoulders. When the man behind her pipes up she looks over her shoulder to flash him a smile. "Thanks. It's my first time, obvs." Lightly clearing her throat she shifts her weight to one booted foot as she reaches for the offered cup meant for filling at the soda station. Her own attire was simple enough if a bit warm for the weather. Red leather boots, jeans, and a white tanktop that revealed her toned shoulders.
"I'm also not great around crowds and this place is pretty tight in here," she admits to her line-buddy behind her. There's another pause before she leans a bit closer to him to ask, "Sorry to be weird, but what's a pickle?"
His gaze dips curiously over her as she steps aside to take her cup, taking her in. "Well, everyone has a first, right?" He glances at the cashier and fishes out hsi wallet. "Same, actually." He pays in cash and then takes his cup, turning back to face her as they get out of the way of the busy line.
"Well, you can sit outside on the patio. Less of a crowd?" He glances about at the booths and then chuckles. "Hell, I figure that's where I'm going to sit. Wanna join me?" He cocks his head to the side and then blinks, glancing over her again, curious. "Uh…it's…" He furrows his brow. "…A cucumber, I think? Well, it's pickled. I…don't know how to explain it." He laughs.
His own inability to properly explain a pickle earns a chuckle from Rachel in response. At least she wasn't the only one fumbling about at times. It was a bit reassuring. "Outside? Sure, that'd be great," she has to admit with a quick nod. Another glance is cast over the crowded interior of the deli. "I'll give it a try regardless. This place does smell pretty great and it came highly recommended."
Stepping to the side, having paid her own with a crumpled twenty handed over, she moves to fill her cup with ice and Sprite. Even as she does so she makes sure there's room for him to pass if he needed to get something else. "Since we'll be table buddies I guess I should introduce myself. I'm Rachel."
He steps up beside her to fill his own drink. This close, and she can see better under his cap, revealing a -mostly- healed black eye, and a few other partially healed scuff marks on his handsome face. He fills his own cup with ice, before he mixes all of the sodas like a kid. He grins a bit at himself and brings it to his lips for a sip, deciding not to get a lid or straw.
"I'm Jason."
Rachel Summers lifts a single eyebrow with a bemused grin as she spots that black eye hidden beneath the ball cap. "Hope the other guy looks worse," she comments while he makes a suicide causing her to reconsider her own drink choice. Nah. Instead she looks him over a time or two only to add, "Judging by your size though I'd say that's probably the case." Turning back around she moves to the counter to grab her plate and sandwich when her number is called. Between it, loaded down with pickles, and the drink, her hands are pretty full and she turns to carefully make her way through the crowd. "Meet you outside?"
He's about to reply about the 'other guy' when her order is called. He waits another moment or two for his own to be ready. He sets his drink down on his tray and moves to follow her out to the patio. It's a nice Spring evening in New York…so there are worse places to be. He settles down across from her at the table and spends a moment setting his drink aside. He picks up a pickle and pops it into his mouth before he nods in satisfaction.
"The other guy is in traction," he finally replies with a lopsided grin.
Rachel Summers sinks down into her seat letting her legs stretch out to kick her heels up on an empty chair next to her. It was at least roomier out here and there were fewer people to complain about her chair hogging. The remaining chair is of course left for Jason to sit at. When he does she grins again with a solemn nod of apparent understanding. "Only way to end a fight." Lifting her soda she takes a long sip off the straw before setting it aside again.
"I've been in my fair share before. Though I usually don't end up with black eyes." Her free hand gestures at her face as if it were obvious. "With as pale as I am I'd end up looking like some kind of clown. Red hair, black eyes? Nope."
"Well, not the only way, but…," he stops and shrugs a well-muscled shoulder. "…The better way." He chuckles and nods a bit, bringing his sandwich up for a big bite. He washes it down with a bit of his soda. "Eh, you'd pull it off, somehow, I bet. Just have a feeling." He adjusts his baseball cap, leaving it on to keep random people's attention off his face.
Rachel Summers picks up one of those pickles he'd insisted she try regarding it curiously. A little sniff is given of it to ensure it wasn't something totally weird. Not like she wouldn't try it to begin with. Instead of commenting on it she says, "No one will notice if you take the hat off if you want to be more comfortable." Odd remark, that, but she doesn't explain further as she takes a testing nibble of the pickle. One eyebrow shoots up and it's tucked into her cheek chewing thoughtfully. Slightly spicey, sour, garlicky.
"Okay, you were right, these are pretty good."
He arches an eyebrow at her when she says that. He considers for a moment and plucks the hat off, setting it on the table. His hair is very black, save a streak of premature white near the front. It looks natural, somehow. He grins at her response to the pickle, and he nods. "They're awesome. I really missed them," Jason says. He leans forward and works on his food slowly, taking his time. "So, new to the city?"
No one does seem to notice. No one even looks their way as they sit and eat. It's like a weird Jedi trick to ensure that no one pays them any mind. Though people do still walk around their table giving them a suitable berth to ensure there were no crashes, splashes, slips, falls, or other accidents that would occur around an outdoor eating venue.
"Pretty much," she has to agree with the question. "I guess I had a… unique upbringing. I didn't get to experience a lot of things," the pickle gets a wiggle in indication. "So I'm trying to make up for it now. I admit I've been doing a lot with trying foods out. I mostly got military rations and stuff before so this is just…" Her gaze drops down to her plate as she gushes without a hint of joking, "Amazing."
"Ah. Had one of those crazy prepper parents, huh? I feel you. I'm adopted, but…my adopted dad is pretty much the same." Not really, but how else can you explain being raised mostly by Batman? He sips his drink as he lounges back in his seat, getting comfortable.
"Well, if you ever want to experience some of the cooler things about the city, you let me know. Ever been to Coney Island, for one? Had a Nathan's hot dog? Ridden on the ferris wheel?"
"Yeah. Kind of grew up on a commune," Rachel explains with a little crinkle of her nose. It wasn't entirely untrue after all, and better than explaining she was from a post-apocalyptic potential future of this world. Or one world. She opts instead to pick up her sandwich. Ducking her head down she takes a bite closer to her plate so that it doesn't squish everywhere. A little low mumble of apparent appreciation comes from her, and she wiggles side-to-side in her seat clearly enjoying it. It's gulped down, and she dabs at her lips with a half-crumpled napkin she'd thought to grab. "Oh man that's good."
"No, I've never been there. That's on my list to try though," Rachel adds with a chuckle. "It'd be fun with some company, if you're offering."
He grins softly when she shows her appreciation for the sandwich, nodding in agreement. He brushes his fingers back through his hair before he pauses in his own consumption to relax. He watches her curiously as he loops a muscled arm over the back of his chair. "I am. I just got back into town after some time away and I don't…really know a lot of people outside of my family."
Rachel Summers extends her hand across the table toward him in clear offer of a handshake. "Consider yourself known then. I'm in the same boat. I've got some other family here, but they're a bit stand-offish around me due to my upbringing. It'd be great to get out and do some things without them hovering around."
Just about this time another patron starts toward their table, calling over his shoulder, "There's a free chair here I'll grab!" He gets within three steps of their table with his hand outstretched to grab the fourth chair that was empty. That's about when he gets an odd look on his face then mumbles a quick apology, "Oh sorry man, I didn't see the baby carrier there. Enjoy your dinner."
Rachel watches after him with sharp green eyes fixed on the retreating figure as she silently chews her sandwich.
He watches her hand for a moment before he reaches out to take it. His own is rough and calloused and very, very warm. He doesn't look sick, but he gives off a surprising amount of body heat, like a furnace. "Well, it's a date, then. Whenever you're up for it…"
Jason trails off when the man approaches, and he blinks when the man withdraws. "…What did you do?," he asks, glancing sidelong at her. "…And how?"
Rachel Summers had a few callouses of her own but no where near what he has. Her hand was still ultimately far softer as she shakes in turn. When he releases his grip she'll pull her own back. For the moment though there was the more pressing matter of the near loss of the extra chair. Her sandwich is placed back on her plate with a little frown. "Guess I can't really bluff my way out of that one. I'm a telepath."
Her gaze moves to watch his reaction, before dipping away again. It wasn't that she was avoiding his eyes so much as she knew many were uncomfortable meeting HERS once that was known.
"I was projecting a general image of a family of four eating here so we'd be left alone. I wasn't expecting there to be someone in the crowd that's got natural blocks built up." Looking over toward the retreating fellow she shrugs. "So he saw what was actually here until I kind of… Flashed the projection directly into his mind. It won't hurt him," she assures. "And I don't read minds without permission. Unless I have to. Mostly I spend most of my energy keeping their thoughts *out* of my head."
He doesn't respond immediatly. He just picks up his drink and takes a long pull of the 'suicide' before he sets it down again and pops another pickle into his mouth. "You a mutant or something?," he asks, his voice soft so it doesn't carry beyond the table. He doesn't sound judgey in his tone, or afraid. More curiosity. His gaze is rather intense now, though.
Rachel Summers bites down on her lower lip. That was a hefty bit to dump on anyone after all. She'd been brutally honest. "Yeah." Her voice is kept down too as she starts to regard her plate with a difficult to read expression. It fades to a quick forced smile as she shrugs it off. "I'll understand if you want to head off."
He's quiet for another long moment as he finishes off his pickles. He picks up the little plastic cup and drains the juice before he washes it down with his soda. "When did you want to hit Coney Island?," he asks. "I tend to work late nights, but I'm free pretty much any other time. And…sometimes I can be free late nights, too, depending." That's his response.
Rachel Summers looks up again regarding Jason quietly. "You're weird," she finally determines with a half-laugh. "I like it. I'm up for whenever so you can keep your late nights if you need to." Grinning again she fishes inside her pocket to pull out a pen. Scribbling a number in one of her napkins it's offered over. "Here's my cell number. It was great to meet you, Jason."
He reaches out to take the number. He eyes it before he tucks it into his pocket. He picks up his hat and slips it back on, chuckling. "Us weirdo's need to stick together, right? Plus I have a feeling I'll be introducing you to your first funnel cake, and that's worth going on a date with a Scanner." His tone is light and teasing, and not mean…even if Rachel has probably never seen Scanners. He rises to his feet and turns to dump his plate into the trash can. "See you sometime this week…"