ArchivedLogs:The Cajun Effect

The Cajun Effect
Dramatis Personae Remy, Isra	2012-12-20 A chance intersection of radically different worlds.
Location <NYC> Central Park North
Remy is sitting against his bike, staring out at the lake. Not that uncommon really, a man in sunglasses eating a hotdog and leaning against a motorcycle. His lips are in a slight frown but it is New York after all. Isra walks briskly along the path, a tall figure wearing a black chador over gray khimar and niqab. She pointedly ignores the young man following half a step behind, who is chattering at her: "...and after all, you're not supposed to be goin' anywhere without a /man/, right?" the latter asks glibly. She stops abruptly and glares at him. "I have told you twice already: leave me alone now, or I will call the police." Remy tosses the wrapper of his hotdog into a trashcan...15 feet away and stands narrowing his eyes a bit and walking towards the pair. "Dare a problem 'ere?" he asks in a casual voice that is traced with a faint accent... "No problem at all," the young man replies, "I was just escorting this lady. What's it to you?" He straightens his US flag-patterned hoodie and stands tall. "He is a nuisance, Sir," Isra adds, "but there is no need to escalate." Her green eyes flick from one man to the other, assessing the likelihood that she may need to dial the police after all. Remy smiles a bit, "Well dats nice of yah homme." the man says with a smile, "But de lady seem more den capeable of lookin' out foh 'erself Ah t'ink. But why yah not let me take over since yah presence obviously bot'ering 'er." "What're you, some kind of foreigner?" the young man asks, snorting. "Bet you're not even here legally. /She/ may be a towel-head, but at least she talks American!" Isra sighs a long-suffering sigh and starts unpinning her khimar. Remy rolls his eyes slightly and looks at Isra with an expression as if to say "You believe this guy?" he smiles at the man, "Non homme, Ah'm as American as apple pie. Ah'm jus' from de Sout'." He lowers his sunglasses where Isra can't see but the man can, his red on black eyes glowing like the fires of hell. "De Deep Sout'." The young man looks like he was about to hurl another non-too-clever retort when Isra pushes her khimar back like a hood, revealing her head. Not only was she completely devoid of hair--eyebrows included--her ears were long and rose to sharp points. He stumbles back, eyes round, though it is not clear which of the two he is staring at. "F-freak!" he cries and flees, stumbling, down the path. Remy turns around to face the girl, his glasses still down as he takes in the woman's appearance and raises an eyebrow at it but says nothing for a moment. Then he slides his glasses up again and smirks, "Well dat got rid of 'im non?" Isra blinks a few times rapidly, then smiles in relief. "Ah! I was a little concerned this might scare /you/, too." She pulls the headscarf back up, but not the veil, and pins it a bit more loosely than before. "Thank you, Sir." Remy smiles a little amused. "Yah welcome, but please don' call me sir." he says and the word seems to look like he has bile in his mouth from speaking it. "Yah c'n call me Remy." He bows gallantly and smirks a bit, "Isra," she replies, bowing in return. "Do you often have to scare delinquent youth away with your eyes around here?" Remy shrugs a little bit, "Ah wouldn't know. Ah jus' got 'ere mahself." he says with an amused tone and sighs a bit, "Ta be honest, Remy jus' got inta de city about forty five minutes ago... Ah t'ink dat may be a new record foh me findin' trouble. Ah'm usually much faster at it." "Faster?" Isra echoes, straightening her chador, "you must practice at it! I actually lived in the city for years and never got into trouble. Ironic that I should find it after I had moved out!" Remy laughs a little bit, "Nah, it probibly 'ave everyt'ing ta do wit' yah proximity ta me at de time. It called de Cajun effect." he says in an almost playful tone. Isra smiles, tilting her head. "I will have to keep that in mind. But, as trouble goes, that did not seem /too/ terrible." She looks out over the water. "It is beautiful here. I cannot believe I missed out on all of this, hunched over computers and papers." She glances sidelong at Remy. "You travel a lot, I take it?" Remy shrugs a little bit. "Remy not 'ave a home chere, not ta speak of, so Oui Ah travel allot. De way Ah see it, Ah'm a citizen of de world, so Ah wanna see as much of it as Ah c'n 'fore Ah die." Isra nods thoughtfully. "I feel that way about the Universe, myself--and since I can't just hop on a motorcycle and go to the stars, I became an astronomer. I guess I still envy you a /tiny/ bit, though. Remy laughs a little and shrugs, "Sure yah c'n, but 'Ollywood nevah 'ad dat much appeal ta me." he says amused and shrugs a bit. "Ouytta curiousity yah actully a muslim or yah just using a convenient disguise?" he asks curiously. It was Isra's turn to laugh. "No, I am a strict agnostic. My parents were...indifferent Muslims at best, and they never pressured me to attend masjid. The hijab is just a disguise, though I am starting to wonder about that, too." Remy shrugs a little and nods, "Well lets face it chere, in dis city if dare is one t'ing dat competes for de bigots attentions more den mutants, it's Muslims." he says with a shrugs that has not rancor, just speaking fact. "Ah'd look inta a wig dat covered de ears." "That was not always the case," Isra replies, sighing, "and, unfortunately, I have worse things than ears to hide!" Remy raises an eyebrow at that, He pulls a cigarette from a pack in his inside coat pocket and offers an almost playful smirk, "Now yah got me curious chere." Isra shakes her head. "If you had asked a week ago, I would have fled in terror. Then again, a week ago I would not have taken off the headscarf for anyone, even to get rid of that /gentleman/ earlier." She takes off the chador and straightens up to her full height of almost six feet. The lower portions of her legs are visible now: she stands on clawlike toes of wildly elongated feet, and a tail swishes slowly behind her. "The wings," she says, "are folded away under the robe, and I'm afraid I don't know you /quite/ well enough for that!" She blushes and settles back down to her usual crouched stance. "But you see why I cannot run about in a t-shirt and jeans, no matter the weather." Remy does raise an eyebrow at the girl's litany of mutations but then just nods in understanding and smirks at her comment about the wings, "Well let me buy yah dinner chere, we c'n get ta know each ot'er bettah." he says in a playful voice dripping with flirtation and promised sin. Though it's likely how he talks to /every/ female. All of them... From 8-88. Isra blushes even deeper. She drapes the chador back over her head and shoulders, hiding her face in its shadow. For a moment, she looks as though she might refuse. "I will agree only on one condition," she replies at last, smiling shyly. "Let me pay. You were the one who saved me from my 'gentleman' earlier, after all." Remy laughs a little and shakes his finger as if scolding her playfully, "Now what sort of gentleman woul' Ah be if Ah allowed yah ta do dat?" he asks with a grin, opening the seat of his motorcycle and pulling out a pair of helmets and offering her one of them. "Not the old-fashioned sort," Isra says, "which I suppose you are, then? We will see." She accepts the helmet and turns it over in her hand a couple of times, as though she has never worn one and needs to puzzle it out. "Do you have somewhere in mind, or are you letting the Cajun Effect guide you?" She smiles, donning the helmet. Remy grins a little bit, ad puts on his own helmet, though his voice comes through speakers in her's. "Well if yah 'ave a suggestion, Remy allot more trusting soul, Ah'm willi' ta put mahself in yah very capable 'ands." the man can make anything sound like a flirtatious proposition. "Well..." Isra replies, "there is a nice Chinese place off Canal Street. I can't pronounce the name, but they have the best dumpling soup in town." Remy grins a bit and says "Unpronounceable Chineese sound good ta me." he smirks a bit, rocketing the bike in and out of traffic, and if she were to look over his shoulder, going at speeds that are much too fast. Riding behind Remy on his bike as the gray New York afternoon fades to evening, Isra stares at the blur of buildings and traffic flying by. The contrast between this and her life of research and teaching was shocking. "If your life is always like this," she spoke quietly, knowing the microphone would pick it up, "I really /do/ envy you." Remy chuckles a bit, "Actually chere, mah life is more like dis..." he says gunning the engine up into triple digits and lifting the front wheel of the bike off the ground, laughing a bit as they rocket into the afternoon sun...