Summary:A chance encounter between the Warrior Princess of Themiscyra and a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Welcome to White Castle! Our restaurant in Brooklyn is known for being so clean even Gordon Ramsey wouldn't yell at anyone. We also love having our caped, cowled, and super-powered customers here. Bring your friends, but no pictures without permission!
Bud Repperton, the heir-apparent of the family-owned restaurant, is working the counter. His younger sister is busing tables, and Mom and Dad are in the back with the line cooks. It is a lively day, but there have been a lot of them on the safe side of the Brooklyn Blitz.
Then the door bell rings as it opens and Bud looks up…and smiles.
Spider-Man, looking pretty squared away in the new suit (which is a lot spiffier than the old one, if you ask Bud) steps inside, and a few heads turn. Not many…he is seen often here. Especially because the food is good, and (after Spidey was able to save Bud's sister from some very bad guys) he eats here free. No exceptions.
Spider-Man is about to speak when Bud smirks, "The usual?"
The man in the spiffy red and blue longjohns nods. "Read my mind. How's your dad?"
The sprawl of New York City offers a veritable feast of dining options to choose from. It's one of the things Diana finds charming about the place, alongside those rare glimmers of kindness in the gruff and tumble personalities that are more often seen on the streets. In Brooklyn on a whim to see its history in the ghosts of brownstones repurposed and the sprawl of the docks on the river, the Amazonian finds herself walking adjacent to the White Castle restaurant.
Memory reminds her of commercials and word-of-mouth alike regarding the place, and so, wearing a light-cream buttonless cardigan overtop her warrior armor of burnished crimson and gold along with a pair of tan slacks, the woman enters the burger place. Immediately, given the eye-catching color of the Spider-suit, she spots Peter. A small, somewhat mysterious smile curves her lips as she walks to take her place in line behind Spiderman. Her dark-hazel eyes rise to peruse the menu. Hmm. What sounds good.
Bud smiles to Spidey. This is how he knows it's the real deal under the mask. They've had a few in costume trying to acti like him. But the ripped physique is one of the identifiers. The other is that he always asks about the family, or any part of the family, when he shows. It's as good as a driver's license.
He is about to continue when he spots the lady behind Spidey and HOTTAMIGHTY, whatta woman! He grins to her, then says, "Webhead. I'm in love."
Spidey sighs. "For the first time…today." He looks back and his own breath catches in his throat. She's got what MJ has, that charisma, but poise and bearing give her aura a different…flavor, you might say.
He looks to Bud, then says, "I'm taking up the line here. Order number?"
Bud speaks, but it's a distracted tone. "Uh, yeah, sure, sis will bring it out." He makes a shooing gesture, and Spider-Man steps out of the line with his cup. "'Scuse me, ma'am," he says politely, and head over to a table, glad the mask hides his flushed cheeks.
So far out of his league it's not even the same sport. But he's with Helena now, so there's none of that little sting of regret.
Bud smiles to Diana. "Welcome to White Castle. What can I get ya?"
Diana shakes her head gently, the fall of her dark hair shifting on her shoulders.
"You have not bothered me, Spiderman, no need to apologize." After relaying the quietly-accented missive, she steps up before Bud at the counter. "Good afternoon. If I could please get an order number three with onion rings instead of fries and water instead of soda, please." She reaches into the pocket of her cardigan and pulls out a roll of bills. With careful delicacy, she peels off the appropriate number and sets them down before Bud on the counter. "Please, keep the change. This establishment appears to be honorable in its dealings and upkeep. It is a nice change from others in this city."
A glance over her shoulder at Spiderman sees him alone at his table. The woman marks this. Perhaps he wouldn't mind a tablemate for lunch.
Spider-Man settles in at his table, one of the large ones that seats four, his legs stretching out slightly under the table, his hands clasped together. The dutiful child, waiting patiently for the test to come back.
Bud smiles and punches in the order. "Number Three, onion rings, and here's your cup. There's a little white lever in the lemonade dispenser that'll dispense just water." He takes the change and puts it in the tip jar. "Thanks, miss. Order 19. My sis will spot ya."
"Thank you, Bud," replies Diana, reading his name upon his plastic name-tag. "Order 19. I will be seated with the young man." If that's not forewarning, nothing is, and the woman makes no attempt to be sly about the pronouncement. After filling her large styrofoam cup with water at the soda machine, she walks over and pauses before the table. Standing across from Spiderman, she gives him another small and knowing smile.
"Would you mind if I joined you? I saw that you might be alone in your lunching and it seemed a shame. We are all already lonely enough in our duties to this city and its people." The gleam of the restaurant lighting catches at the bronze eagle-esque lining of her armor-corset and along its fitted plating beneath. "If you wish to eat alone, however, I do understand this as well. Time with ones thoughts can be peaceful."
Bud gives a sad sigh before his dad elbows him. "Stop flirting with the girls!" he hisses.
Spider-Man looks up. It's the lady with the regal smile. He is just lifting the mask to expose his nose and mouth when she speaks, and there is a look of sudden awe before he quickly pulls back his legs. "Oh! Uhm, sure, no problem. Sorry. No, I don't…mind at all." He stands abruptly, next to his chair, waiting for her to sit before sitting himself. The glint of the armor, though…it doesn't ring a bell. And it's not some rough-hewn Ren Faire armor, this is the Sunday-Go-To-Meeting armor.
Dangit, should he KNOW her?
With poise, she seats herself across from him. The cup of water is sat before her and the woman watches him quietly for a few seconds. While her attention is searching, it isn't overtly pressuring or unkind — simply curiosity.
"Thank you for allowing me to join you. I know you from the papers, Spiderman," she reveals. "They do you an injustice in their reporting. Word from others in our sphere is that you are an honorable man who does his best to keep others safe without doing harm yourself. It is a rare and necessary thing in this world." Her smile deepens and reaches her eyes. "I am Princess Diana, of the Amazons. It is a pleasure to meet you in person."
He is just sitting down when she is thanking him. Then she introduces herself.
Princess. Diana. Amazons. Armor.
The realization that she is Wonder Woman happens a moment before the mental network goes down and his mouth relaxes, the lower jaw dropping as the enormity of it hits him. Diana of Themiscyra is sitting here. At this table. With HIM.
Then the network comes up again and he regains control, the teeth clicking slightly as his jaw snaps shut. "I…uhm…pleased to…meet you?" He says/asks, his voice barely a squeak.
"Please, call me Diana if you would like." The woman in her armor knows not to laugh at him. She keeps her expression in its serene contentment instead and then glances away from him, towards the kitchens, as if a few seconds out of her line of sight might give him time to compose himself. She picks a neutral vein of conversation.
"I admit that I haven't been here before. It seems like a good place to eat. What can you tell me about it? It is local, correct? The atmosphere speaks to family ownership," Diana comments as she looks back to the young man, once more with open curiosity writ on her features.
Speak. Say something, dangit. Okay, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1,..
Spider-Man opened his mouth and his voice actually sounded normal. Young, but normal. Only a boy. A boy who hurls himself into gunfights and can lift cars, but still a boy.
"The Rppertons have owned it for a couple of decades. They own the franchise, and from what I hear they always run in the black. Amy and Frank Repperton started it together, and invited their kids to work it with them. They're training Bud to eventually take joint ownership, then retire and give him full ownership in a few years if all goes well. His sister is going to Arizona State University in a few years, but plans to come back after she graduates. I believe she wants to be a filmmaker. Independent."
His eyes keep moving to the armor. Surely not the body beneath. She has seen sexual arousal, His look is more curiosity than arousal. What is it made of, what alloy? She seems to have no problem moving in it…
Diana's eyes narrow thoughtfully at him and his voice, its pitch counter enough to his build and the continued incidents he appears to be involved in per the newspaper articles. She listens and sips at her water, leaving the cup to rest before her with fingers curled around both sides.
"Ah, so it will remain in the family. This is good. There will be a lineage to boast of if it retains its wholesome atmosphere." One side of her lips rises again. Spidey will be caught looking at the armor without fail. A knowing glint appears in Diana's dark eyes.
"You are curious about the breastplate, I assume. This is the battle armor of my people. It is strong, like the warrior women who wear it. I believe the composition to be called 'adamantium' in this day and age," she informs the young man.
"Adamantium? Really?"
He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Epic warrior woman, epic equipment, epic materials. "I've never had the opportunity to see it this close, let alone work with it." Probably never will, either. What would he need it for anyway, the stuff he does?
"The most I have to work with is titanium alloy. Can't afford anything like adamantium. We can't all be as rich as Croesus like Tony Stark…but I don't really need the stuff. My equipment works just fine as it is…" He exposes the innet wrist, allowing Diana to see the webshooter. Glimpsed in pictures, this is her first real look at it.
"Yes, adamantium. We are a people of science as well as guardianship. It has been used in our armor since before my time." However, given an opportunity to see the workings of the famed webshooter, Diana does lean in to peer at it.
"It seems to be a delicate device, but it can't be as delicate as it appears. You take on a good number of foes and diasasters where it must withstand a great deal of force. You must upkeep it with care. Good. As it should be with all armor and weaponry. A lack of preparation falls upon the head of the lazy." She nods and a lock of her dark hair falls forwards over the light fabric of her cardigan. "May I touch it?" It is a daring question and she leans away as she asks it, to take away any unnecessary pressure of presence in this.
Spidey looks at Diana for a moment. It doesn't seem like an unreasonable request. He extends the arm towards her. "Now be careful about pressure on the 'spoon' part, the part that covers the palm. Different varying degrees of pressure create different types of webs. Webline, web, glue, cloud, even heavy impact settings are available depending on how hard you press…"
Her dark eyes fall from his face and to the gloved hand outstretched towards her. At first, her pressure is tentative and might tickle as she draws a fingerpad across the palm to feel the workings beneath the suiting's spandex layer.
Inevitably, at one point, she does find the 'spoon' section of the webshooter. "It seems to be as playing an instrument. You had to learn which pressures equated to — !!!"
THWIP
A nearby chair is now a proper Halloween decoration given its covering of a glistening spread of webbing. Diana gives Spiderman a wide-eyed look.
"My apologies. I will clean that up before I leave."
Spider-Man blinked, then looked to Diana. "Uhm…good shot?" He looked sheepishly to the girl bringing their food. "Uhm…might want to put that in the back until the webs dissolve?" He looked apologetically to Diana. "That…doesn't clean off very well. The webs tend to hold cohesively for a good two hours. Removing them will likely remove the paint as well. Best to just stick the chair somplace until the webs disintegrate."
The young woman puts their food on the table, then goes to grabe the webbed chair to take it into the store room.
"Oh, thank you!" Diana calls out softly to the young woman. She sighs, still apparently put-out by the accidental mess. "I will remember this if I ever come across any webbing in the city," she notes to Spidey even as she picks up an onion ring.
"You know, these are perhaps the most addictive culinary creation I have come across — other than Cheetos. Those, while terrible for you, are delicious. I could eat an entire bag by myself and not feel an ounce of guilt." Crunch — the onion rings are not soggy and that is a boon in itself.
Spider-Man smiles. "Make sure you fill out one of their survey cards. But for dessert…"
He reaches into the backpack and pulls out the red container. One of his little projects, and he is quite pleased with the outcome. He puts it on the table near Diana's food. "Homemade apple pie. Be careful, the inside of the container is fairly warm."
He read somewhere it was customary to give gifts to royalty…
The daubing of her white napkin pauses at the corner of her mouth in surprise. "Oh. Thank you, Spiderman." Pleased by it, she pulls the small container towards herself further to look within it. "I have not had apple pie in some time. You are too kind." Diana's dark eyes meet and hold his. "I have nothing to give you in return at this time, but I will think of something appropriate. Next we meet, I will have a gift for you too."
She glances around, looking at the napkin dispensers on the tables and then towards the front counter. "Are the survey cards with the staff?"
Peter points to a small cardboard display with TELL US HOW WE DID! printed in black along the top. He chuckles. "You don't have to get me anything. I know the lady who baked that. Knowing you like it is reward enough. The container you can keep. It has a heated interior so you can keep food warm, and can even cook food inside it at higher settings. It's a prototype, so it would be nice if you told me how it worked."
"It is a very clever contraption then. You must have built it yourself if you're asking for feedback on it." Diana lifts the small container and turns it about in her fingers, eyeing it and its workings. She sets it down carefully once more next to her mostly-finished meal; the burger was a single-patty, so it's set to disappear in another two bites. "I shall be certain to tell you how it works when I attempt to reheat my lunch in it." She gives Spidey a warm smile. "Thank you again, Spiderman. You are a thoughtful man."
Not young man — she acknowledges his status rather than point out his youth.
"But I must be going, I realize. I didn't intend to linger as I did." She carefully wraps up the remainder of her burger and places it back into the white paper bag everything initially arrived in. The onion rings, about six left, are hoarded away as well. "It was wonderful speaking to you. Do not hesitate to say hello if you see me on the street. I may not be wearing my breastplate next we meet, but you never know. This city is a bold place of many events, both fortunate and unfortunate alike." Rising to her feet, she gives Peter a formal nod before she departs. "Have a good day, Spiderman."
On her way out, Diana snags a survey, intending to return and submit it on another day.