Summary:Peter steps in to help care for and feed a strange Russian. For the night, anyways Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Central Park at night in the summer is one of the more pleasant places to be in NYC. The cool night air mixed in with the fresh greenery makes it an ideal place to spend ones evening. For Dashenka, however, it's a place to avoid, being so close to nature. Yet, here she is standing in the middle of one of the many pathways that snake through the park, facing one of the wooded areas with her eyes glazed over and swaying slightly in the breeze.
Peter is usually out here at this time of night wearing the red-and-blue longjohns, but tonight he is wearing his regular clothes. He does have his reasons for it, though.
Aunt May is currently in the hospital. She is undergoing testing to see if she is medically ready to have the surgery, to install the hip-replacement array he had dreamed up. It was in a medical sterile box right now, waiting to be assembled. He realized he was distressing Aunt May with his endless pacing and he had acceded to her "request" to take a walk in the park.
So, here he was, trying to walk off the disquieting worry gnawing in his gut. Guys like Electro, all you had to do was pack insulation when turning out HIS lights. Watching Aunt May hobble was like a knife in his gut.
So he was lost in thought, not thinking about what is around him until he nearly finds himself walking into the pale woman with the white hair. He stops, backstepping to keep from running into her. "Whoa…! Uhm, sorry about that," he said sheepishly.
Dashenka doesn't seem to hear him. Wherever she is, it isn't here. Something isn't quite right.
Peter gets quiet, looking at the tall woman. She has a good four or five inches on him. He looks around, but doesn't see anyone. Which is no big surprise, really. But what the heck can he do?
Well, watch over her, he guessed. Wherever she was, she wasn't here, and it would be a rotten thing for some person to take advantage of that. Luckily, there was no one else around, and concern for her was better than concern for Aunt May. He can't really do anything about Aunt May, but he can do something here.
Dashenka's swaying comes to a stop, and clarity comes back to her eyes, and with it some dizziness and confusion. She wobbles on her feet before collapsing onto the ground with looking stunned and breathes, in Russian, «What the heck?»
She might have collapsed, but she doesn't. Slim but strong arms catch her before she drops to the ground, drawing her to a more comfortable and more dignified position of sitting on the ground, one arm propping up her back. "Heyyy…easy there, miss. You okay?"
It takes a good half minute for Dashenka to get her bearings and to get her mind switched gears into English mode. "I…." she says, getting back to her feet and sounding confused. "This is Central Park. How did I get here?" Her accent is an almost comically thick Russian one. "What happened?"
The young man…not much more than a boy, really, smiles apologetically. "I dunno, miss, I just got here myself. You were staring out in that direction." He pointed. "When I arrived, you were just…standing there. I figured I'd keep an eye out in case someone decided to prank you while you were taking a powder."
"I…" begins Dashenka as she follows where Peter is pointing to spy the forested area. Her eyes go wide "Bozhe moi!" She looks back to her rescuer and very visibly tries to hide her panic. "Thank you for catching me, but I should not be here. Not near the forest." She's still a little addled so discretion isn't exactly foremost in her mind. "Grandmother might see me, and find out where I am."
Peter looked around. "All right. Where do you want to go, and would you like me to go with you if you need help getting there?" He looked back at her, very concerned for a complete stranger in Central Park.
She needs help. And he is here, so what choice does he have?
Dashenka looks back to Peter and smiles at him. "You are good person. I need…" she pauses. What does she need exactly? "I need food and to be away from park. It is dangerous if Grandmother finds me." She blanches, realizing she sounds like a crazy person right about now. "I am new to New York and I do not know how I got here, so I do not know how to get home." She tilts her head, "Perhaps you show me way to Little Odessa? After food."
Peter chuckled. "Yeah, I know a good place. We can take the subway to Brooklyn. I know a good place that sells mini-burgers called White Castle. We can eat there, and then head to Brighton." He points to the west, where the street can be seen through the trees. "Let's go." He smiled reassuringly.
Dashenka nods enthusiastically, "I have heard of this White Castle. There was movie of it, Da?" She also looks grateful that at least one of them knows where they're going. "We have McDonald's in city where I lived before I cam here. But no White Castle." She scowls a bit as she walks along with her chaperone. "I want to thank you for helping. You do not have to do this."
The young man smiles and extends a hand to Dashenka. "I know. Name's Peter Parker. And White Castle is…a little different."
Dashenka takes the offered hand in her own. Her grip is firm, but warm and friendly. "I am Dashenka Ivashin. I am hoping that White Castle is as good as movie says."
It's no big deal to take the J line into Brooklyn, then the B12 bus to the stop just outside the White Castle. Peter doesn't say very much during the trip. He seems content to listen to the sounds of the vehicle trundling on through the night.
Forty minutes later, then step off he bus and face the White Castle. "Here we are, Miss Ivashin. Hope you're hungry. I'm buying."
Dashenka fidgets a bit at the silence, but seems to calm down the further away from Central Park they get. Once inside White Castle her eyes go wide. "Just like movie." However at the offer of paying for the meal she shakes her head. "Nyet. You helped me enough. It is me who should be paying." Her tone is steadfast, and would brook no argument.
Peter looked at her. "What say wo go Dutch this time? I pay for mine, you pay for yours. I was thinking of getting the special, anyway," He points to a sign.
SPIDER-MAN SPECIAL. Twelve cheeseburger sliders, large fries, large soda, $12.
Dashenka looks up at the sign. Looks over at the other patrons to see that each burger is about the quarter of the size that she normally eats and nods. "Da. Is good compromise. I will have one, too." As they wait for their food, Dashenka says, "I have met a… mmm… I think she is a Spider-Girl. Maybe Spider-Woman? She wore black, not like Spider-Man, and had big spider on chest. There was robbery in Brooklyn, and she swung in to stop it." She nods, "Was quick. Robbers did not stand chance." Dashenka is conveniently leaving out the part where there was a giant friggin' bear there to help. The bear being herself.
Peter nods. "Yeah, Spider-Man is one of the local vigilante types. Rumor is that he saved the owner's daughter, and now he gets to eat free here whenever he wants." He steps up to the counter. "Spidey Special." He looks to Dashenka. "I've heard of her, too. Back after a long hiatus." He smirks, then takes out his wallet, which actually has money in it. Amazing, really. He pays for his food and takes the little plastic sign with 17 on it. "We can sit at the table near the window."
Dashenka follows Peter to their seat with her own number in tow. "I… uh… thank you for being kind," she says with a small amount of embarrassment that she would actually need the kindness of a stranger. "You must… you must think I am weird to be so afraid of park."
Peter smiled that same hangdog smile that is disarming and genial. It has endeared him to some, and gotten him out of lectures from others. "Dashenka, we are in New York City. There is so much weird in this city that there's plenty to go around." His smile softens. "And I learned a long time ago never to judge anyone unfairly. My Uncle Ben taught me that. And a lot of other good things."
Dashenka squinches her face. "Uncle Ben. Like the rice? I am confused." She doesn't get much of a chance to mull it over when an employee wanders by with their food and deposits two small mountains of burgers between them. She looks at the pile of burgers and says, "This is lots of food. Fit for Russian."
Peter chuckled, but there is a subtle sadness to it. "Fit for college student, too." He slides one o the sliders out of the paper box and takes a big bite, smiling warmly as he chews and swallows. "My uncle was a one-of-a-kind person. Raised me when my parents disappeared. I think I'm the person I have become due to him>
Dashenka nods, releasing one of her own burgers from it's cardboard wrap. "He must have been good man like you," she surmises, pulling the top of the bun off the burger to peek at it's contents. Onions, cheese, and a singular pickle. She replaces the bun and pops the whole thing into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "This is interesting," she concludes.
social dashenka-ivashin peter-parker/Unmixing a White Russian