Starbucks - Greenwich Village - Manhattan

         The smell of roasting coffee permeates the air in this cramped coffee house. To the left, a counter is set up, and aproned young men and woman dash around behind it, shouting orders to one another as machines hiss and foam. Mounted above it, a large chalkboard-looking menu proclaims all that they have to offer in this particular shop. To the right of the cash register, large coffee machines burble and percolate, while the left opens into a glass display showing off their baked goods.

         Behind the counter, two rows of tables have been bolted to the floor. One runs through the middle of the shop, open on both sides with a chair either side. The next one is set up in the plate-glass window that overlooks the street; these window-tables offer four seats, two across from two.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The coffee house is at about half capacity. Though it's prime coffee time, it's also Friday, so most people tend to be out doing more exciting things. Fox is not. He has had enough excitement for the past few days. He is currently trying to order from the waiter, but is failing slightly. "Oy there, mate. How hard is it ta get me a large coconut cappa with a couple o' bikkies?" The poor boy seems a bit scared as the muscular man yells at him in a strange dialect. "Um, sorry sir...but what?" Is all he can manage. Fox rolls his eyes and points at the items that he wants...assuming the waiter to be a bit slow. Fox is not currently wearing his usual coat and tank-top. He is instead wearing a button down shirt with the top few buttons undone. Under the shirt the wrapping of bandages can be seen.

Grey isn't old enough to do anything exciting at this time of night, as she'll bitch about should anyone get her started. Rolling by on her skateboard, she spots the lit up Starbucks, pauses to consider, shrugs to herself, and then heads for it. She makes a bit of a kerfuffle in entering, wrenching open the door and then noisily kicking her skateboard up into her hand with a clatter. As one of the baristas spots her, her eyebrows quirk up slightly, just daring the establishment to kick her out. So she saunters into the coffee house, making a big show of studying the menu, until she realizes it's not just strangers in here tonight. "Well, fuck me. This /is/ a small island," she offers by way of greeting.

Fox stops glowering at the panicked waiter for a few moments to turn and address the voice by his side. Upon the realization that it is Grey, he grins broadly. "Well hello there deary. Howja like a cuppa joe, eh?" He turns back to the waiter, his expression again quite unfriendly. "Get this li'le sheila whatever she wants too...on my tab. An' DON'T screw up the order." The waiter just makes a soft noise and mutters something about not really knowing what Fox is trying to order...Fox seems slightly less friendly as a result.

"God, everywhere I go man, there you are making friends," Grey razzes him as she moves up to the counter, smacking her dirty skateboard down upon the pristine surface and revelling in the reaction this gets. But the waiter doesn't seem to dare order her to get it off, not when it's two against one. Going back to studying the menu, Grey orders each thing in turn as she comes to it, clearly not one to feel guilty about taking advantage of the charity of others: "Hot chocolate, almond biscotti, two chocolate chip cookies, a Danish... Oh, and this," she decides, picking up one of those horribly overpriced bars of chocolate from beside the till. Girl likes her sugar rush, apparently.

Fox smirks at the girl "Yeah, I'm just a friendly sort o' guy." He chuckles as she puts her wheeled plank of wood on the counter and watches the waiter as Grey orders. "Oh right...Cookies, tha's what you call em. Two 'cookies', not bikkies. And like I said, a large cappa wit' coconut in it." The waiter eyes him strangely "Oh don't make me try an' say it, mate." The waiter still just looks at him. Fox sighs and attempts to say cappuccino, but it comes out like "The..er... Cappachiatto-deroo..anino... cappra... chupacabra... thingadoo." The waiter starts to laugh but stops abruptly as Fox bares his teeth. "Right, then sir...Anything else?" Fox looks down at the chocolate bars and back to Grey. "Ah, sure. Make it one o' each o' these chocos, here. " Foxs bill ends up being over thirty dollars, but Fox doesn't care. He gives the kid a tip...consisting of a nasty glare and nothing else.

Grey doesn't even try to stifle her laughter at Fox's attempt. "Chupacabra? Isn't that some sort of monster?" she points out with a smirk as she begins loading up her skateboard to use it as a tray with her rather prolific order. "So you like sugar too, huh?" she asks/points out as the kid heads off to make their drinks. "Really though, man, you gotta learn to talk right if you're gonna hang out in this part of the world." But her advice is given lightly, and she doesn't /really/ care whether he talks 'right' or not. "D'you guys always say only half the word? Choco, cappa, bikki..."

Fox smirks at the girl but then looks back to the waiter. Watching him intently to make sure he doesn't try to spit in either of the drinks. "Oh I'm not the one who speaks funny...These words ent even english. They're French...Or 'talian...Or something distinctly un-english." He nods in agreement with himself and upon the receiving of their order he smirks back down at Grey. "The secret ingredient must be chupacabra...otherwise it'd be reasonably priced, right?" He nods again. "An' sure. It's the Ozzy way. Cut the words in half, add an 'o' to the end. Easier to say when yer tanked."

"You are too!" Grey insists stubbornly that he's the one who talks funny. "Bikki? I don't think that's English either." She gives him a 'so there' look, but it's not enough to hide the fact that she's really just having fun with hassling him. "I think I'm allergic to Chupacabra," she adds, eyeing the drinks warily. "I hope they go light on it." She looks back up at him, considering the wisdom of making words easier to say when drunk, and then has to nod in concession of that point. "Okay, yeah, that's kinda smart. 'Cause some words, they're real hard when you've had a few." And she's so knowledgeable in that area.

Fox laughs a bit. "A 'bikkie' is a biscuit, deary. An' tha's what the Brits call 'em, so it's deffinately English." He gestures toward one of the tables and starts moving toward it. "An' we'll find out how much they use when you swell up an' vomit a bit o' puss." He laughs heartily at this for a moment, walking the rest of the way toward the table. He sits down and sits down the candy bars on the other side of the table where Grey would probably sit. He says nothing in response to her drinking comment. In Australia, you can drink as soon as you can see over the counter. Why, when Fox was Grey's age...plus three years...he was already working at a pub.

Grey brings her things over on her skateboard, setting it down on the table to unload it before dropping it beside her on the floor. "I dunno, they talk pretty funny too. Not as funny as you do, but calling it English might be a stretch." That's right, she's going to insist people from England don't speak English right. His comment about vomiting up pus just earns him a raspberry as she sticks her tongue out at him and then drops down in her seat, deftly pocketing those candy bars. Of course, if she knew how lax Australia was on drinking, she might be a little more forgiving of the cultural differences. "So you get hurt or something?" she asks, eyeing the bandage curiously while tearing open three sugar packets to dump into her hot chocolate.

Fox sips his coffee and nods. "Oh righ'. Of course they don' speak English in England. They speak Norwegian. Silly me to 'ave forgotten." He shakes his head. He hears her question and looks a bit puzzled before following her eyes to his chest. "Oh righ', tha's abou' patched up now. Got into a scrap with..." he looks around and lowers his voice. "A real speedy fellow." He winks and starts talking at a normal level again. "Things turned out fine, though." He laughs. "Thing is, he doesn't know that I'm...erm...bandages." He looks as if he just remembered something, and kind of attempts to change what he's saying mid-sentence...but not very well at all. He decides to change the subject. "Anyway...Hows yer whiskey discount? Might be orderin' a bottle from you pretty soon, here. Ran out o' me other a few days back."

"You're in America now. You should speak American," Grey insists as she slouches back in her chair, putting her feet up on an empty seat. Oh, she doesn't miss that very awkward change of course and gives him a skeptical look, but his change of subject does seem to distract her: "Really?" she asks, a little too eagerly. "I mean, that's cool. I can probably hook you up. Business is okay, though it's not really what I want to do with my life, y'know?" She shrugs, taking a tentative sip of her drink and wincing as she finds it still rather too hot. "So you're bandages? That some sorta crazy Australian slang?" Distracted, but not forever.

Fox laughs. "Oh? Speak American, eh?" He screws up his face and fakes a southern accent "Jesus tells me that America's the best country in the world. I'm gonna drive a huge truck built for twelve, but carrying two, just so that I can run down minorities." He sips his coffee and shakes his head. "Nah. Don't think I like it. Don't suit me, ya know?" He smiles. "An' take yer time with the booze, ya?" he looks a bit shifty when she mentions 'bandages' again. "Um...Yeah. It's slang for...Ex-military." He nods and looks as if he's proud to have thought of it. "Anyway...What is it you'd like to do with yer life, if not sell discount turps to blokes on the street?"

"That's the spirit. But you forgot about how our right to bear arms absolutely means you can take an Uzi into Times Square if that's what you're feeling," Grey points out, tipping her cup in a mock salute. But she sets the hot drink down for now, instead working on one of her cookies as they speak. "Me take /my/ time with the booze? You're the one who went through a forty of premium whiskey, dude. Not that I'm complaining. You being an alky is good for business." She eyes him doubtfully as he tries to cover. "Right," she replies, drawing out the syllable to make it clear she doesn't buy it. "I want to sell /other/ things on the street. But I gotta make enough money to get the ... supplies, first. So I got my, y'know, delivery service."

Fox nods. "Oh right. Forgot about that one. It's what makes this country great." He smirks. "And I didn't mean to take yer time DRINKIN' the whiskey, I said to take yer time GETTIN' the whiskey...But you should probably do both. I'm probably a good 50 kilos bigger than you." He doesn't really care if she doesn't believe his explanation...she's not asking anymore, and that's all that matters to him. He drinks his coffee as she speaks. "Right, so what is it you would LIKE to sell?" He somehow doubts it's girlscout cookies and lemonade.

Grey nods and points an approving finger at him as he tacks on the bit about guns, though her mouth is too full of cookie to make a snarky comment in return. She makes a dismissive noise about taking her time, whether it's getting /or/ drinking the whiskey. "I bet I could drink you under the table," she bullshits, not even really trying to sell that one. "Everyone knows it's the squirrelly ones that'll surprise you." At his question, she pauses, sizing him up before nodding in agreement with herself. "Weed, mostly," she states, matter-of-fact, but clearly also sizing him up for his reaction to this most bad ass of statements. "At least for now."

Fox laughs. "Oh I'm so sure. I could drink more liquor than there is blood in yer veins, kiddo." Is this true? Maybe...probably not...But maybe. "And a weed eh?" His eyes darken a bit. Not at the mention of weed, so much as when she says 'at least for now'. He narrows his eyes at her. "You know...That stuff stunts yer growth. You'll be all midgy and diminutive fer ever." he nods. "An the other stuff..." He shakes his head. "Well if you get an army of hookers comin' after you don't come runnin' to me fer help." Not that he wouldn't actually help her if she was in trouble...

"Bring it on," Grey challenges, narrowing her eyes, and taking a swig of her chocolate as though tossing back of shot of hard liquor. Still very /hot/ hard liquor! She makes a face as it scalds its way down, plunking her paper cup back on the table. "I didn't say I was gonna /do/ weed. First rule of business is you don't sample your own wares, man," she informs him knowingly. "And hey! I'm not ... midgy. What the fuck is midgy? I'm a kid! I'm supposed to be this tall!" she exclaims indignantly.

Fox laughs as she burns herself. "Oh my, what a toughy." He laughs again when she mentions her height "Oh right. What an excuse." He makes a fake kid voice "I'm not short, I'm vertically challenged." He guffaws loudly, causing the waiters to look over at the table. Fox notices this and shoots them a venomous look, which causes them all to quail about looking for something to clean. He looks back at Grey "Seriously, though. Not the drugs that'll kill ya. It's the customers. 'Specially if they see it's a kiddo who's carryin'."

"Shuddup," Grey mutters as he makes fun of her, scowling and hunching further down in her seat as she attempts to kick him under the table. At the warning, she straightens up, rolling her eyes and heaving a world weary sigh. "I can take care of myself, okay? I done okay so far, haven't I? Why does everyone think I'm always gonna get myself killed or something. /I'm/ not the one who's 'bandages'," she points out, jerking her chin towards his recent war wounds. "A few potheads don't scare me. And when I got some money, I can take care of myself even better."

There’s  a thudding noise and Fox looks a bit confused. If Grey managed to kick him, he shows no further indication than that. He shakes his head "And if you was 'bandages', then you'd have military training and I'd worry less." He smirks at her, thinking he's oh-so clever for clearly having deceived her so well. He nods again. "And just remember...Potheads are like zombies. Get enough of them together and they'll eat you." He says this with complete seriousness. "Why don't you get a real job? Like..." he looks over at the waiters. "Well like making coffee? I promise I wouldn't threaten you...too much." It really is too much fun to scare waiters. It's one of Fox's favourite hobbies.

Grey looks a little confused at the reaction to her kick and again slouches down in her seat, this time trying to peer under the table to figure out what just happened there. "I don't /need/ military training," she argues, really good at doing so without even devoting her attention to it. She looks back up at him, skeptical about his threats of a army of zombie potheads coming after her to eat her. "I think I can handle it," she says flatly, before wrinkling her nose at the idea of a job at Starbucks. "Ugh. No way am I gonna work for the /man/. Besides, I can't. I'm too young and I don't exactly got a stellar resume."

Fox looks under the table as well, trying to see what she was looking at. "Oh? Really now? So if a crazed crack-head came at you with the sharpened femur of his dead hooker, you'd be fine?" He stops investigating the underside of the table, having only found a bit of chewed up gum. "And what you mean you're too young? Li'le kids in China work all day making shoes and soccer balls, I'm sure you could find somethin' here." He flashes a wicked smile before sipping a bit more of his coffee.

"Um," Grey replies, having to give that enough attention to properly size up the scenario, "Yeah, probably," she decides with a nod. "Or I'd survive, anyway," she allows, canting her head slightly as she has to consider whether or not she'd be 'fine'. But she shakes off these thoughts quickly. "But it's not gonna happen. Besides, I never /said/ I was gonna deal crack. And everyone knows potheads almost never attack you with parts of someone else's anatomy. I'll just make sure not to stand between them and the nearest vending machine, okay?" She rolls her eyes a bit at the question of age. "And if we were in China, I'd be thinking about my 401K by now, but here we got laws. And anyway, they'd want like a name, address, and social security number, and that's not stuff I feel like giving right now."

Fox raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Impervious to hooker bones, are we?" He chuckles a bit and finishes his coffee. He's really quite confused about the vending machine. He's not frequently around high people, and without the luxury of American tv for most of his life, Fox simply doesn't get the reference. "Uh...Right." is all he says. Then he laughs a bit at the China reference. "Yeah I s'pose. 'merica should strive to be like China as far as their policy with youth in Asia." he says 'youth in Asia' quickly...so that it sounds like 'euthanasia'.

"I got a few tricks up my sleeve," Grey just states mysteriously, and as imperiously as a scrawny and dirty thirteen year old can manage. "I'm not completely stupid and helpless, no matter how much people want to treat me like it." She smirks a bit as he doesn't seem to get the vending machine reference, before rolling her eyes at his pun. "You're a real cut up, y'know that? Anyway, if you're done giving me career advice... I mean, what is it /you/ do, anyway?" she asks bluntly.

Fox smirks at the girl. She had obviously survived this long without being killed...Unless she's a zombie...Which Fox doubts because Zombies aren't real. "Well...Since you HAVE to know...I'll have you know that I'm monk with the holy order of Saint...er..." he doesnt actually know any saints...so this lie fails before it's finished. He chuckles a bit. "No, well actually I'm a bartender." So obviously he's capable of getting cheap liquor without Grey's help...But he still seems interested in being her customer.

"/Really/?" Grey breathes, suddenly intrigued. She leans in over the table to study him with her eyes all aglow of the opportunities this might present. "Can you get me into a bar?" she asks almost reverently. She sits back then, smacking back against the chair fairly hard. "Man, that's actually kinda cool. If it's true. I can't even mess with you about that one." On one hand, it's really cool and might even come in handy, but on the other, she /really/ does enjoy hassling people. Oh, such a conundrum.

Fox gives her a look.  “Well I doubt me boss would appreciate me bringin’ such a young kiddo into the bar.”  He shakes his head.  “And ‘sides,” he continues “it’s kind of a...” he ponders for a moment.  “A specific KIND of bar.  Don’t know if you’d fit in there, or if you’d want to run away screamin’.”  He manages a weak smile.  “An’ I mean really.  You seem to have an easy enough time gettin ahold o’ liquor on yer own.”

"Oh, c'mon. You gonna tell me that chugging back some cheap vodka in a dirty alley is the same as going to an actual /bar/?" Grey questions incredulously. "So what is it, like a strip club or something?" she guesses, as to the kind of bar it is. "You think that's gonna scare me? I mean, we got- We had cable, man. I seen some pretty messed up shit. And anyway, maybe your boss doesn't have to know. He can't be there /all/ the time."

Fox stretches a bit, puffing out his chest as he does so. He no longer winces when he does this, that's a plus. His ribs must be healing nicely. "Well it's a...Not EXACTLY a strip club...Though there are usually people there who are down in their skivvies." He nods and plays with his dog-tags idly. "Well...it's a...I work at the Stonewall Inn." Grey may have heard of it. It's kind of the most famous gay bar in America. He sits in silence, watching for her reaction...if she knows where/what it is.

Grey clearly doesn't get the reference, for all her claims of being so worldly. She just stares back at him rather blandly, clearly expecting a much bigger reveal than the fact that he works at some inn. "Uh-huh," she replies slowly, taking a sip of her hot chocolate (now lukewarm at best). "I mean, okay. So, uh... So what?" She doesn't really want to admit she has no idea, though it's a crap job of pretending otherwise.

Fox smiles at the girl. "Maybe when your older," is all he says, though he's sure this will just annoy her. Though he supposes that's fine with him. It would amuse him. He glances at his watch and stretches again. "Well kiddo, I think I should probably be gettin' home. Got a bit o' work to do tomorrow." He grins. "An' if I don't get me beauty-sleep, I get all cranky and sometimes yell at poor incompetent waiters." Actually he does that all the time. It's not like they're real people or anything.

"Older than /what/?" Grey asks, annoyed indeed. "Fuck that shit. The hell about this place is so bad you can't tell me?" she demands, frowning as he takes his leave of her without actually explaining. "Yeah sure, whatever. Knock yourself out," she mutters in her frustration. "I guess if anyone needs their beauty-sleep, it's you." And if it's not actually true, well, it was just too hard to pass up. She begins cramming away the things she hasn't finished, into her many pockets.

Fox stands and heads toward the door. "Right-o kid. See ya around." He gives a quick wave and exits, but not before shooting one last nasty look at the waiter.

Current Mood: amused