Summary:Someone hits Hod with their butt. Also, pool rules and Pez. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Hod is very good at not being seen. Scratch that. He's very very very good at it. Not like ninja stuffs, though maybe a bit of that in there too, and not like Navy Seal camo or anything, though his outfit and what not also serves this function. It's that people just don't notice him. At all. He walks through entire crowds being blind, and no on will ever remember he was there. He swims through presses of people with a shocking amount of fluidity for a man who's tapping out his path with a metal tipped cane, and yet every head looks somewhere else, turns away at just teh wrong moment, catches a reflected bit of light in the eye, or a sudden passing shadow that causes them to go dark blind for a key moment. This is what it is to be Hod. To just not be noticed.
Most of the time. The longer he's been on Midgard, the harder it's become to keep a grip on his powers, and sometimes they just fail at the worse moments. Like when someone, not responding to Hod's Hodness (its a thing, shush!) takes a step back while in the middle of a conversation and teh blind Asgardian barrels into them blindly. The pair make contact in a tumble and Hod ricochet's off of a hydrant on the way down before making rough impact with the concrete, "Bor's swinging cod!" he bellows, reaching up to rub his shoulder and roll over onto his back, a grimace of pain stitching over his features. The other man, a paragon of modern fashion wearing shoes more expensive then the top half of Hod's entire ensemble, tumbles over into a brick shop wall, the sound of tearing cloth can be faintly heard before a wail of outrage echos across this half block of The Village.
The last time Cassandra Cain had been out on the streets of NYC in actual streetclothes and not as the dark shadow of vengance as the Black Bat was the night she'd been recruited into The Family Bat.
But, she'd grown more comfortable being around people. And she was very good at observing. So much so she'd learned to drive a motorcycle by observation, and had done so well with it that she'd been allowed to patrol alone on the Batcycle.
And now? Well. She figured that meant she was cleared to drive and be out on her own as well. So, today, for the first day in months, she was walking through the city of New York with no real purpose but to observe. To experience things from a new perspective.
What she's finding, though, is the same body language she'd always observed from afar, this time, just up close. People in love. Selfish people. People uncomfortable in crowds. And — clumsy people?
Hod falls just in front of her from his tumble, and says something she's never heard before. Not that she understands words, but some are starting to sound similiar to her. The girl is dressed in relaxed atheletic wear, and she tilts her head at the figure laying on the ground. Then, she leans down and gently touches the side of Hod's arm, briefly.
She'd recognized the man was blind, from his body language. And, silently offers a hand up. Be nice to people. She learned some of that from Helena.
Laura Kinney saw it all — she's a witness. In fact, she witnessed Hod walking, she witnessed the other guy backing up, and then she witnessed the collision and both gentlemen taking their respective tumbles. Did she DO anything about it? No, not particularly. Why is this her problem?
Laura is walking out of a clothing store with a small bag in her grip when the whole thing goes down about ten feet away from her. She stands there, watching silently, as Cassandra comes up and tends to Hod. To the body-language reader, she's unique on this city street: she has all the tells of a fighter with, if not Cassandra's own level of training, something close to it. To Hod? Well, she probably smells okay, at least.
Hod stiffens at the hand that touches his arm, every line of him screaming the fight or flight response for a fraction of a second. Then he's reaching up to check that his glasses are still on his face, straightening them when he finds them crooked, and then extending a hand, "Well don't just stand there, someone find my cane." another wail comes from the downed man in the Name Brand colorful suit with it's shiney accents and… frankly it's gaudy and horrid to look at. It's just awful. It's just the worst. It's just expensive as all shit. And there is! A scuff! On his shoe!
Everyone knows thsi because that is precisely what the down man screams, somehow making the statement into 3 seperate high pitched sentences. "So buff it out precious." the blind man quips lightly, rolling his arm as if checking the shoulder for real damage, "Or better yet, don't, and in the future make a note to pay attention to where you're stepping." The blind man is sassy today. "Thanks." he mutters aside to whoever it was with the itty bitty calloused hands that helped him up.
Not only are they itty, bitty hands. The grip is strong. And, there is - for a person of said size and said bitty hands, unusual strength. Not so much as to make her 'superhuman', but more along the type of girl who might be a UFC fighter, or fully trained Olympic athlete.
Once Hod is to his feet, the mute girl doesn't nod at Hod, afterall, he can's see her and nodding would be a wasted motion. She looks, instead, towards the other fellow.
Silently, she steps between the man and Hod, reading the other fellow's body language. And she stares into the other man's eyes with eyes of her own that are full of confidence that not only could she smack this other fellow around, but she could break every bone in his body while doing it. Confidence bolstered by real life experience of an abusive childhood, years on the streets, and now months along the rooftops as a Bat.
She makes no threats. Not verbally. NOt physically. She merely stares. Hod may be sensitive enough to at least smell the position of Cassandra, that she's interjected herself between the blind man, and the insulted man with the scuffed shoe.
Laura would be able to tell the dangerous, dangerous readiness in Cassandra. A coiled lean-muscle slackness that would allow her to respond to the merest movement and instantly take this blowhard down.
The cane rolls to a stop by Laura's foot. Laura's wearing inexpensive sneakers, and they curiously have slits cut through the toes. A scuff? Pshaw. On the other hand, these shoes probably cost fifty bucks.
Laura steps on the cane with a toe, gently, but for a long moment her gaze is more directed at Cassandra. It's the kind of gaze that a cat might give when it notices another cat through a window. A gently furrowed brow, a quiet intensity, a curiosity best labeled as 'who the fuck are YOU?' — only after indulging all of those for a moment does Laura pick up the cane and walk towards Cassandra and Hod. "Here's your stick," she says, holding it by the middle and poking its handle at Hod's hand until he grasps it.
Hod takes note of the hand and quirks a brow before the little girl goes to stare down the wailing fashionista. "Huh." he says simply as the man's next wail of protest is suddenly cut back into a sort of gurgling noise. "See what happens when you pick on the handicapped?" Hod asks the man still sitting in the street, "You get checked by… I wanna say a child, but I'm just guessing a very tiny person?" he seems to question it aloud before shaking that off and continuing, "Now. Run along. If you hurry you can stuff the other shoe on a deaf guy and have a matching set!" he pipes up with mock enthusiasm.
As the cane nears his hand his wrist rolls and it slips right into his fingers, as if the blind man saw it coming or something. Perhaps he's faking it. Either way, it looked well practiced. "Thank you." he pauses, sniffs almost daintily. Laura will recognize the action if anyone would.
Cassandra points, her eyes not leaving the fashionista, points away from Hod, herself, Laura. She points again, to emphasize her point. Only when he has left, does Cassandra turn around to consider Laura. She can easily tell the girl's ability to fight, but seems to have no desire to test it out.
She nods to Laura, once. Pauses, and shrugs, points to her lips, and shakes her head. Hopefully, Laura understands what that means: Cassandra can't speak. At least, not yet.
Laura's brow stays furrowed as she looks at Cassandra's pantomime. One eyebrow does lift slightly. She takes the meaning, but then is distracted by Hod's dainty sniff. She actually sniffs, herself, but less daintily, and then steps back.
"Do the two of you have a… caretaker or something? I don't have a phone. So someone else would have to call them." Laura looks between Hod and Cassandra. Her question seems well-intentioned, if blunt and stupid.
Hod does not smell like a city fella. In fact, he smells like… like nothing. Not that he has no scent persay, but that he smells like nothing. Like the great Canadian North in the heart of winter, like ice and wind and open spaces so cold trees don't grow and so can't leave their taste on the wind. He smells like that. Assuming one can parse that out amid all of the scents of the city. He barks a laugh, "I like you. People havn't the stones to ask questions like that anymore, lost them with the invent of the internet is my guess. No, I have no caretaker." he seems greatly amussed by the question as a whole, "What about you little bit? Got yourself a wet nurse?" he, unlike Laura, couldn't see the pantomime that explained her silence, a silence he's currently taking for stoicism, another thing he finds lacking into todays uh… youth.
Cassandra reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a card. It's a nice card, clearly made especially for her. She hands it to Hod, and - because both Bruce and Helena probably had a hand in making it, the top half of the card, thick and as resilient as a credit card, reads: 'Hello: My name is Cassandra' in bold black print against the white. The bottom of the card is, curiously enough, in Braille and it says the same thing. She hands this card to Hod, first.
And, the fact she has a card, that state her name, might make Hod wonder why, and lead him to the same conclusion that Laura's already formulated.
The mute girl looks back to Laura, and considers the question, then shrugs. The body language isn't as clear as words, and - well, while Bruce isn't her caretaker, he has taken her in. It's a bit wishy-washy.
Laura watches the display of the card being handed over. That dark eyebrow hasn't quite settled back down — still raised just a bit. "Thank you?" she says, when Hod says that he likes her. It comes out question mark and all, like she's really not sure how to respond to the blind man's candor.
When Cassandra shrugs at Laura, Laura just shrugs back. It's not QUITE a mockery of Cassandra's non-answer, but more of a 'well, what do you expect me to do about it, then?' type wishy-washiness of her own. "I can't spend all day making sure you find your way back to wherever you're supposed to be." That seems more directed at Cassandra than Hod, but her nose twitches subtly a few more times. Hod's scent is something she's still working over. "I just bought a bathing suit," she says, as if that's an explanation as to why she wouldn't have time to help Cassandra get back to some imaginary care facility.
Hod is unaware there's a card aimed at his head like the barrel of a gun for long awkward moments, until bitty hands actually /hand/ it over. And he seems a bit surprised. Then he feels the card, "Fancy." he says aloud before nodding, "Ah. Mute." he says in instant understanding. "Well." he sort of turns towards Laura, "If you're deaf or crippled or something, I'm gonna be forced to start a handicapable sporting league of some kind." he makes 'handicapable' sound like a dirty word when he says it, his distain for the term obvious.
Then he's back to Cass, "Nice to meet you Cassandra, my name is Holde-" he stops, considers, then adjusts, "Hod." he pronounces it more like Ode then Odd, an odd inflection in said pronunciation that marks it as not English in origin. "I just bought a blank of high carbon steel so I can forge a new chef's knife." he pauses, "What are we doing? Talking about our shopping trips? I'm confused." he jerks a thumb Cassandra's general direction, "And she can't very well join in. Seems almost rude. Unless you can read sign. I'm shit at that language." smirk.
Not that HOd can see it, but Laura can. Cassandra shakes her head at Hod's question. She can't read sign. She takes the card back, and stuffs it into her pocket where it belongs.
She, too, seems confused at the turn of conversation from what she can read about body language. Again, she shakes her head, but this time she offers Laura a wry sort of look. Maybe she doesn't either have a swimsuit, or a block of high carbon steel.
There's a pause, and she reaches into her other pocket, a faint jingle of keys there, before she pulls out - of all things, a Pez dispenser.
The Pez dispenser has the head of a black kitty-cat on it. And Cassandra opens up the head, to showcase a piece of candy. She seems pleased by this. And, she offers it to Laura, first, then to Hod, again gently touching the Pez to his hand first.
"I can read sign language," Laura says with all of the passion and verve of someone pointing out that they know how to walk on two feet. "She can't." She's talking about Cassandra, for Hod's benefit. "She should learn. It'd be more versatile than writing things down." It's not clear if Laura MEANS to speak about Cassandra like she's not there, or what.
"I had to buy it because the pool said I can't swim laps in my shorts." Not that Hod would know, but Laura is in fact wearing denim cutoff shorts. Just normal ones fashionable-enough for someone of her age and look. She takes the Pez candy and sniffs it. Like, holds the piece of candy right up under her nose to check it for poison.
Hod huhs, "Yeah… you should definately learn sign language. Won't help you with me of course, but most of them," he jerks a thumb in Laura's direction, "it'll do wonders. Okay. Some of them. A few." he shrugs, "They're shit at dealing with us." us in this context being people who aren't 'normal'. Ish. "Luckily we're adaptable."
"Wait. You can't swim in shorts? Pfft. I just go naked and when they start to freak out I give them a face full of the eyes. If I'm lucky I'll catch one with a weak stomach and they'll puke then I can do what I want, bigger conserns to fret over at that point." he grins and it's hard to tell if he's kidding or not.
Hod also ooo's at pez, "I love these things." and pops his in his mouth without sniffing it at all. "I had one for awhile couple years ago, top was in the shape of a middle finger. Super useful little bastard."
Cassandra takes the pez back, exhales, and then pats Hod on the shoulder as if to say 'goodbye', and then nods to Laura. It would seem her job here is done. She's learned something, perhaps, but has to think about this particular interaction with these strange people. Laura is given another assessing look, cats do recognize other cats, afterall. But Laura seems like 'good people'.
Then, the lithe young asian woman is turning to continue on her way she was originally headed, before the Hodccident happened.
"They said that if I tried to swim naked they'd call the police," Laura says, with a tone of voice that suggests that she tried it. As Cassandra departs, Laura eats the candy and then says, while still chewing on it, "I hope people don't back up into you again, at least for a while. I'm Laura. I never said. Anyway. Bye." And then Laura is also on her way, probably to go menace a community pool.