Summary:Gwen spies Thor while trying to move her trapset to a new venue, when suddenly: Ice Cream. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Some girls carry their instruments to school and recitals in a little case in one hand. For others, that's not so easy to do. It's not that a drum set is particularly heavy for Gwen, but it's certainly awkward and bundlesome. As she makes her way down the sidewalk, Gwen Stacy is doing her best to keep it all in balance. Large cases and drum boxes swing haphazardly from her hands, as others, balanced one upon another, are dangerously close to toppling. Her head is leaning against two large round cases balanced on one hand as another swings from a strap beneath that hand. The other arm is wrapped around what can only be the bass drum, cuddling it close in an attempt to keep moving down the street without dropping anything. Thank goodness for sticky fingers.
Then, she stops dead on the sidewalk, having spied an ice cream cart. The indecision on her face is tangible.
On a bench not twenty feet away from the ice cream cart rests a very large man. Not really a man: Thor's a god. And his effort at being incognito is a failure as always, despite his 'normal' Midgardian attire. He even has a denim ball cap on, hair in a thick ponytail out the back of it. He has some crumbs on his navy hoodie, but no more food in sight. He's just there, scooched down some in a slouch, both arms draped on the back of the bench, and staring upwards and away into the sky, off in his own dream world, maybe.
Gwen's still staring at the ice cream cart, debating on whether she could manage a big waffle cone full of icy creamy goodness. She's oblivious to the god of the bench.
Until she isn't.
"Dude…DUDE…" Gwen calls out to him, not wanting to use his name and draw attention to him. She notices several people looking her way, and she hushes to a loud and strained whisper. "Duuuuude!" She manages to crook a single finger, trying to beckon him if he looks over. It's about as subtle as that guy in the ice cream cart line who's considering how her backside looks in jeans.
Thor doesn't move his head at first. In fact, he ignores her: the god of Thunder does not answer to 'dude'. But then she starts to loudly call it, and Thor looks at her. Then over his shoulder, puzzled. Then back at her. And then points at his own chest, in a 'me?' motion that also goes with a mouthed 'me' as well, puzzled. Then she's crooking her finger, and he instead gives her an amused grin, and wiggles just a little in the bench. The message is silent, but is 'I am cozy here'. And is followed by a move of hand to point at the bench near him. No, she can come over THERE.
Gwen blows sunny blonde hair out of her face and presses her lips together in mock annoyance. She mouthes a silent "Oh. My. God." in response. Well, at least she got /part/ of that right.
Slowly, Gwen makes her way over to the bench and carefully puts down the cases, stacking them beside the end of the bench. "Next time I'mma call out your name, and you'll have to fend off the chick mob that ensues," she threatens. "I want ice cream. I'll get you one too, if you'll watch these for me. I can't hold one and eat it while I'm carrying them all."
Thor is grinning like a goofball when she arrives. His smiles are robust, big and happy: they just ARE. "A chick magnet? You do not frighten me, for there are no chickens local to this place," Thor determines with a lift of one hand to gesture grandly around the area. No chickens.
"I do not mind keeping watch over your belongings for a time. Leave them here," Thor grants, generous. "You are the destructor of Muppets, if I recall?" Thor asks, squinting a little at her.
"I /am/ the Destructor of Muppets," she replies with a bright smile. "And you've got me there. No chickens, far as the eye can see." She wiggles her brows. "So how about it, you want ice cream? Or are you gonna just eat your crumbs?" She nods to his shirt. "I've heard they're delicious, but I don't wanna graze on your clothes, so I'm going with ice cream instead." She gives him a lopsided grin.
Thor looks down at his shirt, and with no shame, brushes them off with the heel of one hand, shrugging. "I will accept ice cream, in a flavor as decent, or better, than vanilla," Thor decides. "But first, put down your heavy belongings; do not fall over," he teases her, gesturing for her to approach so that he can unload the drum from her arms. He's careful with it, if she lets him take it, and set it nearby on his bench.
"THANK YOU!" Gwen flaps her arms for a moment, happy to have them free of their burden, so she can stretch them wide. "Woosh, that stuff…I am gonna have to find a better way to move that stuff." She turns back to the cart and looks at the sign. "Looks like…Strawberry, Chocolate, Vanilla, or…Ohhh, a swirl…" She cuts her eyes back at him. "I'm going for a Chocolate Strawberry Swirl. You in? Or are those as decent or better than Vanilla? I dunno what you like."
"You are most welcome. Perhaps a … Car?" Thor says, eyes moving over what's nearby in the city, as if 'car' wasn't really the first thing that came to mind, but he's aware enough to not suggest she use a flying goat or chariot. Those options might not be available to her, and he doesn't want her to feel bad about that.
"I am always up for adventure; swirl of course," Thor answers, starting to carefully stack her item on the bench, looking at them with curiosity, but not a ton of interest. Her luggage is what it is.
"Perfect!" And with that, Gwen trots over to the line, stands, squirmily waiting with anticipation, fishing dollar bills out of her jeans pockets and unfolding them to straighten them out carefully. Turning them all the right direction. Until finally, at long last, she's ordering. She returns presently with two waffle cones filled with chocolate strawberry swirl, and piled ridiculously high, to the point that the danger of them toppling is a very real thing.
"Here ya go," she chirps, offering Thor one of the cones with a nearly foot-tall column of ice cream above the cone in perfectly neat swirls. "Ice cream fit for a god…" She winks.
"This is a large amount," Thor observes, but there is no negativity in it. It just is a statement of fact of what Thor sees of his world. He accepts the cone with amusement. And promptly bites it. If ice cream cones are usually just for girls on rollerskates, Thor didn't get the memo or care about that. He's going to have some. "So tell me, destructor. What has kept your days busy? Carrying heavy objects to and fro?"
"Oh they're not heavy. Not for me, anyway. It's my drum set. I'm playin' with a little band at some artsy craft beer place tonight. I thought I'd get an early start, cause these things were gonna be fun to move." Gwen licks her ice cream, but quickly determines that it's going to melt in the summer heat before she can eat it, at that pace, so she takes a bite and enjoys it immensely for a moment. "But y'know, I mostly just work on college work. Help people when they need it. Here and there, I mean." She considers explaining more, but decides against it for now. "Lots of people need help these days. Seems you can't throw a rock without hittin' someone in need. But then you really wouldn't want to, cause if they're in need, hitting them with a rock is DEFINITELY not helping."
Thor visibly perks up at 'beer'. "Ahh! You are a bard, a musician. I enjoy a good ballad," Thor says, jaunty and pleasant. He really does! "Music can distract from problems, and give a moment of respite. You need not be a hero such as an Avenger to do well for others," Thor says, with the clear assumption that she's not a superpowered person, or perhaps a heroing sort.
"You have given me an ice cream to distract me from my brooding, and I would call that doing a great service." Thor is demolishing his ice cream, with no apparent need to pause or eat it slowly. No mind freeze.
"I often throw rocks at my brother, Loki," Thor asides in a stage whisper. "he does not appreciate it, no."
Gwen laughs and sputters a little, mid-bite, and she recomposes herself. "I'll bet it's pretty awesome being an Avenger, though," Gwen replies, perhaps distracted by her ice cream. "I've always dreamed that someday if I try hard enough, I might get on with them, or maybe some other group, if I'm never quite that good." She takes another bite, and another, tryig to beat the drips. Luckily enough, her healing factor keeps her brain from freezing, too. "Your poor brother…"
"Bah, do not feel bad for him, I do not do it without reason," Thor chuckles. A sudden boom of a horn rolls out from the Asgard Embassy building, a stone's throw across from them beyond the far street. "Ah! That is for me," Thor declares. "I asked them to blow the horn when they were assembled, for I need to speak with several of my ambassadors. Thank you for the ice cream, Demolisher," Thor says kindly to her, climbing towards his feet with a relaxed ease. "But it would not do to keep them waiting long, when I have favors to ask, even if they are obligated to do as I say," he smiles down at her. "I hope your performance goes well; I am sure you will 'rock'." It's a stilted comment, like someone trying too hard to be hip, but the feeling is genuine.
Gwen smiles and stands up, too. "Fair enough, I know if somebody blew a horn for me, I'd hop to, as well. Thanks for watching my drums, and good luck with your favours. I'll see ya 'round!" Gwen finished off her ice cream quickly, and begins picking up and rebalancing the cases. Off to the Beer Garden. Another day, another dollar.