Summary:Able and Thea leisurly look over produce. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Though reputable, family-owned grocery stores are rapidly being pushed out by chain retailers with big names, a few still endure. Such is Medino's, a modest, extremely tidy operation that packs a remarkable amount of merchandise into a medium-sized storefront. The owner, Tony Medino, has been seen there from eight in the morning until eight at night for more than thirty years and he has a long list of loyal customers.
For the moment, Able is one of them. The blond doctor is dressed for a chilly day, with a long, dark overcoat atop a sharply tailored suit. A slim tie, leather gloves, matching boots, and a smile complete the ensemble.
He seems to be enjoying this moment of domesticity. He's carrying a basket and has picked himself out a pair of healthy-looking porterhouse steaks, some asparagus, a few portabella mushrooms, and a very nice bottle of red wine. Right now he's helping an adorable old lady load some bags of cat food into her cart. When he's finished, he tells her an off-color joke that brings a blush to her cheeks and sends her toward the register, giggling and calling him a rogue. Meanwhile, he chuckles to himself and goes in search of dessert.
There is just something about the small, family run places that just is lacking in chains. Of course, years overseas has her preferring the smaller, family run businesses when she can. So she has a basket over one arm, as she moves among the produce, pondering some fruit.
Hair is currently a bright coppery hue, down and loose over the darkness of her coat that hangs open over a chic dress paired with serious high heels, all in shades of china blue and gold. She's humming to herself, as she moves at a slow pace along the aisle.
She will glance about now and then, smiling at the old woman giggling and blushing. There's just something sweet about it, and blue eyes find the man who had been responsible, a hint more warmth into her expression.
"Mmm… Tiramisu," Able muses. He finger-walks his long, spidery hands across the dessert case until he comes across a specimen that he likes the look of. The plastic clamshell container goes into the basket along with the rest of his respectable-looking dinner.
He's still smiling when he looks up, clearly having enjoyed his interaction with the little old lady. He nods a greeting to his observer and turns away from the spread of cheesecakes, pies, and other treats. "Hello," he says pleasantly. His voice is a clear baritone with an accent stuck somewhere between British and Germanic. "Shopping for anything in particular?"
Thea will nod back in return, a glance to the dessert in his hand. Dessert. She hasn't indulged in a while, she should consider something. If she doesn't indulge the sweet tooth now and then, she'll overindulge.
"Hmm, me? Just things for dinner, little things for the next few days. That's the joy of little stores like this all over the city. There's almost always one around to stop in and pick up things, so you can keep your foods fresh. And you? Other than dessert, that is?"
"Bail jumper," Able replies, still in the same pleasant, companionable tone. "And dinner. But mostly the bail jumper. I'm told he shops here, so I figured I'd do the same until I bumped into him."
It's a frank admission, but it doesn't seem to bother him very much. He shoots a glance over his shoulder at the dessert case, then sneaks a hand out to snag a slice of raspberry cheesecake. "Honestly, I'm hoping he doesn't show. I like the looks of my basket tonight."
There's a blink, before her brows lift slightly. "Well, that's one I haven't heard before." She says, her voice lowering even as a smile teases at her lips. "I've never met anyone in that line of work, surprisingly. It must be rarely the same, day to day."
Her eyes will slide over the coat, the suit. "It must pay well, to boot." Says the woman in designer heels, with actual diamonds in her ears, as she shifts her gaze to look at desserts, and she too will choose a slice of raspberry cheesecake. "If he doesn't show, does that mean you get to go home and make yourself dinner with those beautiful steaks?"
"That's the plan," Able chuckles, shrugging agreeably. "Although I wouldn't call this my line of work. By nature, I'm a rogue scholar, a freelance doctor, and a man of science."
There's a pause while he strikes a dramatic pose, hand to his collar and eyes lifted to an unseeable horizon. He's aware that his statement is audacious, to say the least, and the effect is altogether comical. "Unfortunately, my passions don't do much when it comes to paying the bills," he confides. "And so among other things, I chase odd Persian men who fancy themselves as pornographers that take special orders. It's all a bit unsavory, truth be told."
"But the true question is what you'll do with the portabellos and asparagus. How fancy do you get?" The smile is polite, friendly. She listens, a tip of her head. Her lips open to speak, before he is striking his over the top post. The laughter that spills out is not quite a giggle, but close, and genuine.
"I was going to ask what exactly a freelance doctor is." The other designations make sense to the biokinetic. Eyebrows lift again, a sharp arching as her jaw clenches. "Oh see, I'd pay you good money to let me kick him around a little before you take him away."
"Sometimes, less is more," the doctor says, winking confidentially. "A little butter, a little salt and pepper, and a practiced hand is all you need. But back to the villain."
A brief, thoughtful pause. "Is it socially acceptable to call him Persian?" Able queries idly. "I suppose he'd be Iranian these days. You'll have to pardon me, I'm a bit old-fashioned."
There's another pause, then an audible clearing of his throat. "I'll admit, I would've handled this one pro bono, but I'm never one to pass up a dollar and a good deed in the same sitting. I found out about him through one of his 'actresses.' She was… a bit the worse for wear. Apparently, the evidence against him was compelling, but he managed to buy his way into a bail hearing before he jumped on his bond. That's where I come in."
"See, with the sheer meatiness of the portabello, serving it that way with the steak may be doing a disservice to them both." Speaking of steaks, her eyes wander. "But I do like to try new things, myself. Have to know enough to never get bored with my own cooking." Though she's got a large pile of takeaway menus.
There is a small shrug. "Many in that part of the world still reference Persia and Persians. So I'm not at all likely to be offended. Iranian, Persian, it doesn't matter. A scumbag is a scumbag." Her chin lifts, just a bit. "Guys like that deserve a good hurting."
There's another polite, affected cough. "I have a feeling that he may fall down some stairs on his way into custody. Clumsy fellow."
Able takes a few steps further down, leading them into cheese territory. Another bout of finger-walking later, he's picked out a small round of gorgonzola and added it to his haul. "To each their own, in life and in culinary opinions, but you seem a bit nonchalant. Considering the subject matter, I mean. I could be subduing a rapist before we're finished with this conversation, but you're still here."
"I hope it is a couple flights of stairs. At the least." There is a hardness in those blue eyes a moment, a smile as she's watching him pick out cheese. She's picking out her own things, a steak (though smaller than his), and some broccoli rabe.
Her head turns, a glance up to his face. "Was I supposed to run away? I've never been very good at that sort of thing." She will pick up some nice cheddar, pondering the package a moment before it is in the basket.
"I have had my own fair share of taking down the scumbags and giving them comeuppance."
"You don't strike me as a delicate flower, to be fair," Able acknowledges, along with a old-fashioned touch of two fingers to his forelock. "But you might be more careful who you tell your exploits to. I could just as easily be here to chat you up and gain your confidence."
This time, the pause is heavy. "Scumbags have friends, which means you have enemies. If I invite you for dinner now, to have this other steak," he gestures to indicate one of the porterhouses. "Could you know that I wasn't trying to lure you into danger? Food for thought, miss."
"She was not fragile like a flower, she was fragile like a bomb, as the saying goes." Thea muses softly, as she reaches to pluck up some brie, looking over at him consideringly. "There are few who know exactly what my exploits are. I'm more often a ghost story told to frighten the underlings, than a flesh and blood creature with a name."
"Scumbags do have friends. But the friends have to have an idea who did what to said scumbag." The smile she gives him is bright, winsome, and confident to almost arrogant. "I assure you, you wouldn't be using a steak dinner to try and lure me into danger, if you were out for my blood. You'd have done more research, for such an encounter. "
"No offense intended, miss," Able replies, holding one hand out disarmingly. "You're silk on the outside, but I didn't expect to see quite so much steel beneath the surface."
A deep nod, almost an abbreviated bow, punctuates the apology. "I'm sure you handle yourself fine, and you certainly have nothing to fear from me. Shall we check out? My car's outside, I'd like to make it home with my groceries in the case I get lucky tonight. Or, God forbid, I offend the wrong lady." There's a teasing lilt at the end of his statement. But rather than a jab, it's playful, meant to offset the seriousness of the moment.
There's a low laugh again, a spark in her eyes. "I'm not offended in the least. You were trying to be kind and caution me against unwise statements. It's almost gentlemanly." She turns, getting crackers and some fruit that pairs well with her chosen cheeses. "You're not generally supposed to see the steel when it's sheathed. That's the whole point, no?"
"I perhaps need more people to fear things from. Perhaps I need my own comeuppance. Who knows." She sounds almost philosophical, before she smiles. "I doubt you offend many ladies. I saw you flirting earlier."
"Jealous?" There's a shrug, almost sheepish. "Sometimes, I feel so old that ladies like that seem like my contemporaries," Able confides. "And if I could make her smile, that's a good deed done at the right time and in the right place."
Despite his warm exterior, there's something dark and determined about the doctor. Something that befits a man willing to casually converse about capturing a rapist, and potentially introducing him to a few extra bumps and bruises.
"In any case, I'd rather not see you get your just desserts on my watch." Though he appears young, his words and mannerisms are telling. It's as if he's from a different time. He stands between Thea and approaching strangers, though not obtrusively so. And that's on top of constantly being on the lookout for his fugitive.
She grins, quick and bright. "Terribly." It's playful, teasing, even as she winks. "Some days I feel years older than my license tells me I am." Of course, she spent years in a hell dimension that passed here in hours. "Making someone smile or laugh is never a waste of energy, I agree."
She maybe notices there are things about him that are different, but that's most of the people Thea works with these days. "Oh, I doubt that I will any time soon, to sound annoyingly arrogant about my own ability to take care of myself. The only desserts I'm going to get are the sugary kind."
"As it should be." The doctor smiles and indicates his own desserts, which are suitable for at least three people. "I don't eat often, so I try to make the most of it when I do."
That's putting it lightly. Each of his steaks would be suitable to share on a date night, at least when coupled with the veggies he picked out. He doesn't seem perturbed by this, though. "I appreciate you keeping me company during my surveillance, but it's time for me to head out. A rogue scholar's work is never done, after all."
"You should make time to eat. Very important. A doctor knows that." She teases, with a wink. "As for keeping you company, the pleasure was mine. It isn't very often I have such a lively and intereting conversation. I wish you good hunting, sir." She will smile with mischief, ducking ahead of him to check out first! Then she will vanish out of the store and be lost among those on the sidewalk.