Summary:Old adversaries Thing and Poison Ivy meet in a new setting Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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It's a pleasant day in Central Park, here at the cusp of summer. Joggers and bikers are hitting the paths, and with school being out there's a lot of kids of all ages roaming around.
A touch out of the way, near one of the flower beds, is Pamela Isley. Currently she's got a rather typical complexion, though there might be the slightest green tint to her skin that she can't quite escape. Her redhair is tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail, and she wears a rather nice looking green blouse and matching slacks. She's just loitering on a park bench at present, eyes half-closed as she just basks in the beauty of nature.
Ben Grimm has gone incognito today. For him, that means wrapping his enormous frame in a trench coat and putting a large, wide-brimmed hat on his boulder of a head. The rocky orange feet are a dead give-away, as are the three-fingered (plus thumb) hands protruding from the ends of his sleeves. He attracts looks one way or the other, but at least this way, he hides most of his inhuman features from casual observation. He's doing his best to avoid people, skirting off paths and, coincidentally, nearer to Pamela. He holds a plastic bag in hand, from a local bookstore.
Pam cracks an eye open, and notices a few things. First, Ben Grimm is… well, not nearly as incognito as she is. Which actually gets a look of sympathy from her, and the second is the plastic bag, which prompts the question, "If you don't mind my asking, what did you pick up?" She gives Ben a slight smile, looking curiously towards him.
Ben Grimm looks over toward Pam at the sudden question. It's more polite than many he might get, less hero-worshipping than some, and also - just very everyday. It's something that does not go unappreciated for the Thing. His blue eyes rest on Pam for a moment. There is something familiar about her, although he's having trouble placing it at the moment. With the sunlight filtering through leaves overhead, the subtle colouration is lost on him. "It's a bit of a… well, a mixed bag," he notes, lifting it slightly to indicate that, yes, it is literally a bag. "Some non-fiction, some fiction… I, uh… read a fair bit." The conversation has stopped him in his tracks, as he stands awkwardly for a moment, trying to decide what to say next.
Pamela quirks a bit of a wry grin, "Yeah, me too. With my current work, I take my solace where I can, and reading is definitely at the forefront of that." She arches a brow, "Personally, I've been diving back into a bit of the classics. But there's just something about turning over a new leaf." With that, the grin quirks just a bit wider, as if making a note of the pun for later.