So Many Choices

July 16, 2014: Sam Wilson and Lunair get caught up in a street-level mutant fight and then discuss their lives

Lower Manhattan

The southern end of the island of Manhattan is the seat of Wall Street and City Hall. Bounded by the Hudson on the west, the East River on the east, and the harbor to the south, it's a veritable mosaic of smaller, storied neighborhoods that fill in the patchwork south of 14th street. From the arts-friendly, boutique-laden, gentrified areas of Greenwich Village, SoHo, and TriBeCa, to the tenement dwelling, immigrant-filled, working class districts in the Lower East Side, Bowery, Little Italy, Lower Manhattan is one of the most diverse places in the city. Just about anything can be found here, and often is.



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Mood Music:

It's another day on the southern end of the island of Manhattan. The place is a smorgasbord of activity, people and buildings. On the streets, street vendors hawk wares of varying quality, including food, clothes and flowers. Cars are parked here and there along the streets, adding to the crowded, frenetic feeling that ebbs and flows depending on where one looks. Even glancing around a corner or at a thing either eases it or makes it worse.

Many people make their way here. Immigrants, mutants, and so many, many more. Fate and activity make it a critical spot sometimes! Today is one of those days. Lunair herself has a dark purple rose in a pot as she walks along down out from Greenwich village. People argue over something, a Brooklyn cabbie shouting at his slow passenger to hurry up.

Remember, that once Lunair was part of a group of children who all developed powers. And some of them have a little less kind attitude towards ordinary people. Three teenage girls, one of whom seems unusually bulky, one with silvery skin wearing a hoodie and one who looks a bit dazed walk along. "Hey. Hey, do you think we'll find any…?" The bulky girl asks.

"Yeah, of course."

There's a pause. The bulky girl asks, "Why don't we just ask if they have powers?"

"Oh my god, Tsumugi, you can't just ASK people if they're a mutant. We'd be all over Tumblr in a second." The trio consult a moment. Then the silvery skinned girl grins, points a hand at a parked cab. An explosion goes off under it and the thing goes flying.

After the frenetic pace and rigid structure of his deployment, Sam Wilson is finding his hours strangely empty back in New York. He finds himself wandering the city, hoping that he can lose himself in the clamor of the streets. Today he's headed toward Battery Park for some relaxing, touristy views, when a sudden detonation has him diving for cover. For a split second, he thinks he's having a flashback or episode of some kind, but then he sees that everyone else is panicking — it's not just him. Cautiously, he raises himself up just enough to peer over the hood of the parked car he finds himself behind. He's got to figure out what's going on.

Lunair is walking with her rose pot when that explosion goes off. She dives behind some cover and peeks out. For now, she does nothing. But there's a look of recognition and panic on the girl's face. With that explosion, someone has likely alerted the police. After all, they can't really write it off as yet another gas line explosion. People run, screaming. A couple pull out smart and cell phones to get a picture. One guy even has a tablet out. The bulky girl sighs, and slips off her cover. She has tentacles! "I am SUCH a stereotype."

And with that, she's going to smash the hipster's tablet and several phones. The car has landed upside down, bits of fire and metal landing here and there. "Hey, it was a Prius. No one feels bad. We're doing community service AND finding others from the trial," The silvery skinned girl clenches her fist. The dazed girl looks more focused. "I think I can feel one nearby." A little bit of fire dances on the end of silvery girl's hand. "Let's go then. It makes me sick to hear about people like us schmoozing with sheep and pigs." The two nod an affirmative and head out to look for their quarry. "… actually, I'm gonna go look in Chinatown." Tsumugi, the bulky girl points and runs off.

The other two sigh. "Totally going for sushi." But the search is on, and the search party is down to two, thanks to the whims of the terror that is TEENAGED GIRLS WITH ADULT STATUS. Dun dun duuuuun. They don't seem to notice Sam just yet.

That's no surprise, as Sam hasn't done anything to draw attention to himself just yet. Clearly, these young women have some pretty exceptional abilities, and he's got nothing special. A small part of him is terrified; the greater part of him is training. And his training did cover situations similar to this one. Urban setting; unarmed combat against armed opponents; stealth and surprise. He can do this.

Keeping low and out of sight, he moves quickly along the line of cars, getting closer to the girls and just ahead of them as they look for… whatever it is they're looking for. He pulls off his jacket and waits for them to pass his position. He's guessing that the silvery girl with the fireworks seems like the greatest threat to public safety, so when he springs up behind them, it's her head and shoulders that he tries to throw his jacket over. A quick tug to one sleeve should leave her spinning, blind, and disoriented, assuming he judged the distance properly.

Mercifully for Sam, they do seem to be rather untrained teenagers. His brains and training should give him the edge. Provided he doesn't get set on fire or whatever it is that dazed girl does. They seem to be making a beeline for the girl with the roses, anyway. Lunair looks baffled. "Hey… Sue, and Linda, right?" She peers at them. Puzzled. "Why are you here?"

The two sigh. "You're doing it wrong! You're not supposed… to hide with people like this." Clearly, if they found out about the Brotherhood, they'd be cheerfully terrorizing humanity. Lunair herself looks confused. Blank. Neutral expression. "Ehm…" What?

And then suddenly, the silvery girl has a jacket over her head and is spinning disoriented and blinded. "AAH! I'M BLIND!" Lunair looks EVEN MORE CONFUSED and the dazed girl turns to Sam. She strikes a martial arts pose. "… um." Pause. "… rawr." Yeah. They're inexperienced. "Hey! Don't pull other people into this!" Lunair seems unhappy.

But Silverygirl is trying to sort herself out, while the dazed girl is coming to kick at Sam.

Sam doesn't know what this girl is capable of, but she doesn't seem like the most competent combatant he's ever faced. He tries to catch the kick with one hand and tug the girl off balance. If that works and he sees an opening, he's going to try to dive in behind her and lock her arms. He's not sure what she's capable of, but she's a teenage girl who hasn't done anything too destructive yet, and he's a grown man. He is definitely going to try to restrain her rather than actually attacking. "You need to work on your battle cry," he tells her. "'Um rawr' doesn't exactly strike fear into my heart, you know?"

Dazed girl is actually quite /strong/. She seems to be pretty resilient. But is that what she does or is she holding back? It's hard to say. Maybe she's holding back to see what /Sam/ is capable of doing. Silvery girl is trying to untangle herself, and Lunair looks - well, confused. "Um." Pause. There are sirens off in the distance, likely SRD and standard police.

"I HATE ALL OF YOU AND I THINK THIS THING SMELLS FUNNY. THAT'S RIGHT!" Silvery girl is PISSED. A few small sparks start under a really ugly Aztec and the thing launches, sending one man and his smart phone running off.

Dazed girl seems to let herself be restrained, but - arm locks hurt. "… don't make me angry, then." She replies, narrowing her eyes. This might get ugly. Lunair hesitates. Fortunately, the sirens are drawing nearer and nearer, with the sight of a square armoured truck coming in.

"Hang on," Lunair offers and carefully pulls what looks like a freaking ice gun out of nowhere to chase after Silver. "But I am SO not telling the cops I have powers. Um. As a favor."

Sam grunts with the surprising effort necessary to immobilize his opponent. "I wouldn't try to make you mad," he tells her, voice strained. "In fact, why don't we both just chill out until the cops get here and then you can be pissed at them instead of me." He tries to rotate so that Dazed is between him and Silver, just in case the latter girl works herself free of the impromptu snare. "Sorry if I smell funny. It's hot out and I get nervous around girls who are trying to make me explode," he jokes. Lunair's offer gets a curt nod — he's got no quarrel with anybody who isn't actively trying to blow him up, and he grew up in New York. Stonewalling the PD is practically the city's pastime.

Dazed girl seems to be getting stronger. Say, are her teeth getting a bit longer and sharper? They ARE. Grooowl. "I'll devour them!" She remarks. "I'll kill you and them and your family and their families and-" She's being used as a shield. "Hey! Are you using me as a SHIELD?! Rude!" Snarlsnarl. Lunair looks confused. She shrugs, shakes her head and will probably help freeze up Silver spark since she seems to have problems escaping Sam's Hoodie/Shirt of Justice. It's more an immobilizing sort of ice, provoking slips and restraints more than an outright weapon. The thing is dismissed after being used, though. She'd rather not have the PD or SRD on her case.

"Thanks," She smiles faintly. And weirdly, the cops are somewhat on time, the special response on their heels. Feral girl is getting angrier though, and getting harder to grip. She bursts loose, if he doesn't have serious grip and turns - then promptly gets hit by a tranq dart. If they're quick, Sam and Lunair can probably avoid being questioned. Unless he wants to, anyway.

Sam nearly falls over, backpedaling desperately as the werewolf finally escapes him. He catches himself on the hood of a nearby non-exploded car and blows out a long breath of relief when the cops tranquilize her. He eyeballs the approaching police warily, but decides not to run off. He's a veteran and a private, unpowered citizen. Damn it, he shouldn't have anything to hide from these guys, even if they do make him nervous as hell. He will be happy to explain his part in the fracas, although any questions about who iced up the sparky one are going to be met with unhelpful non-answers.

The werewolf girl doesn't seem to have any resistance to the drug and is off in sleepyland. She even curled up a bit. Lunair is fetching her flowers and being equally unhelpful. They didn't like her in high school, you see. That's all. But with their answers, Sam and Lunair will probably be let go with the caveat they might get talked to later. With her roses safe, Lunair waits nearby. She seems … distinctly uneasy around police and SRD, a distant, thousand yard stare on her face. Something seems off about the girl the trio were after.

But either way, she waves to Sam once they're free of cops. "… hi! I'm sorry about all of that."

For his part, Sam is actually a little relieved by the frank questioning. There's a lot less automatic suspicion of him than he was used to as a kid growing up in Harlem. Still, he seems more at ease once the authorities have headed away to find the tentacled girl who left the scene. "Nah, not to worry," Sam answers Lunair, giving her a warm smile as he shrugs back into his jacket. "You've got nothing to apologize for — I appreciate the help, actually. I'm Sam Wilson."

The tentacled girl will probably be a handful for them to apprehend, but she didn't seem to be the most danerous. Lunair doesn't seem at ease around the cops at all, but she smiles politely at Sam as he smiles at her. She has to work at it to emote a little. Odd, that. "I see. I'm glad to help. They were after me, I guess." So it WAS her fault. "My name is Lunair Weir. Pleased to meet you," She bobs her head politely, offering a hand carefully.

"You're not hurt are you?" Peer.

"Nah, just a little winded. Wasn't exactly expecting a fight," Sam replies with a smile, gently shaking her hand. "But you say they were after you?" His eyebrows inch together in an expression of concern. "Are you in some kind of trouble? It sounded like they were trying to out you, or something."

Lunair nods. She seems oddly - unexpressive when she's not consciously working on it. "Well. Probably. I knew them a long time ago. It's sort of a weird story," She admits. She glances up to him. "No, no trouble. They want me to help them." Pause. "I'm not sure people in the public would wanna hear these," She admits, smiling weakly. "Some people believe that those who have powers are um, I guess - that we could take charge by being forceful?" She rubs the back of her head. "But …"

"I can think of a lot of people who wouldn't be too big on that idea," Sam says wryly, quirking his eyebrows. "Quite a few of them with a few powers of their own." He grins and shakes his head. "But they're just kids — hopefully, they'll learn. I've seen how life can change you." A shadow of sadness darkens his face, and he looks down at the girl, continuing in a quieter voice. "Speaking of which, are you okay? I've noticed you seem kinda… off. Is something wrong on top of being hounded by jerkass classmates?"

"There are many," Lunair concedes, smiling faintly. She seems amused and a bit happy as he grins. "Kids? Hey! I can totally vote." Pout. It /counts/! "Granted, I've only been fighting about … is it 8 years?" She ticks off her fingers and shrugs. She looks up to him. "That it does." She peers back up. There's a distance in her stare now and then. Hm. She furrows her brows. "Oh. They aren't my classmates. We were in a hospital together. It's - a long story," She waves a hand. "I'd have to buy you coffee. I am different. That's -" She's uncertain about giving her whole story out. "Anyway. I'm just -" Hmm. "There's things. Yes. But I'm fine for now."

Sam's brows knit — he's not entirely satisfied with that answer. "If you say so. But if you ever need someone to talk to, come by the VA office in Harlem and ask after me. I spend a lot of time there, volunteering and visiting with friends. I'm there to help people, and I owe you one, anyway." He knows better to push, but it sounds like Lunair could use a friendly face from time to time, and he's obviously displaying enough emotional warmth for the both of them. "So, what kind of name is Lunair?"

"Yeah, not in public like this, anyway," Lunair looks to him. "I'd rather not get set on fire by angry Quaker Oatmeal cosplayers or something." She's a mutant. But he might've figured that from her ability to create and dismiss something out of will. "And really? That's nice of you. Though, I'm not in the VA," She admits. Something a little more illegal. "I've been making friends. Some days are better than others." Pause. "Sometimes people pick up that you fight, and that scares them, I think." It's hard to turn away the warmth. Is it a superpower of his? Nicest dude ever who is actually nice man. Yup.

She answers, "Dutch or German. I'm adopted though." She shrugs and smiles. "I owe you one. They were after /me/ and you almost sacrificed your shirt," She points out. "So … it's fine. Hm." She thinks. "Are you thirsty?"

If he does have a superpower, pulling people out of their shells is probably it. Sam laughs and tugs on the lapels of his jacket. "Aww, not to worry — I've got lots of shirts. They're definitely cheaper to replace than a car, too." He glances at his watch. "Sure, I could grab a drink. There's gotta be a Starbucks or something around here. I guess that's a little less intimidating to a civilian than the VA. Although if that mess didn't freak you out, maybe civilian isn't the right word to use." He smiles, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and starts to walk down the sidewalk, occasionally glancing around for a place they might stop.

One of them, anyway. Lunair seems a little more expressive when she's immersed in a conversation. "If you're sure. I wonder why they only blew up some ugly cars?" She considers. She looks to him as he glances at his watch. "Hm. Well, your choice. Budget's not a problem, so maybe something special." Sagenod. Then a pause as he mentions the VA and civilians. A weak smile. "No. It's not the right word. But there are people who fight in other things besides armies," She waves a hand. "I wasn't old enough when I gained my ability." Probably a mercenary or something along those lines? Hard to tell. She follows along, glancing around. She keeps her plant in hand.

"You were really calm through all of that too, though. I don't know many people who would stick their shirts on a pyrokinetic person's head."

"Well, not many people would dive out of an airplane into the middle of an Iraqi battlefield," Sam answers with a restrained smile. "Para-rescue attracts people who are a little crazy around the edges, and maybe I'm no exception." His expression brightens, and he points toward a smoothie place ahead, which on a hot day like this, actually appeals more to him than a coffee. "How about something frozen? Maybe budget's no issue for you, but I'm kinda between careers at the moment." He ponders what she says about fighting outside the army, but isn't quite sure what to say about it yet. She's definitely nothing like any mercenaries he's met.

"… that's true," Lunair considers. His restrained smile makes her look curious. "Oh, please. I've seen plenty of crazy. You're not that," Headshake. "You seem pretty brave though," She offers. She looks to where he points and nods. Then a frown. "I said I'd buy. So no worries," Smile. "Sort of a 'thanks for jamming your shirt on the head of the girl who seems to think I should just off people at random', yes?" She seems fairly frank about what she's CAPABLE of. "And hm, between careers?" Thinkthink. "Well. I don't know that you like gardening. But if you need stuff, don't hesitate to ask. It seems unfair someone like you has that sort of trouble," Frown again.

Lunair is also probably considerably younger than most of them. "Frozen is fine. Lead the way! My treat."

"It's not really trouble — not yet," Sam answers as he holds open the door for Lunair. "I just got discharged a few days ago, and I'm still drawing money from the Air Force. I've got a place to stay and I know people. It's just that I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. I'd rather not fly back into any war zones if I can help it, but I'm not sure where else I can do any good." He shakes his head and smiles. "I know lots of guys who have it tough. I'm not one of 'em — not anymore." He glances over at her, raises his eyebrows, and smirks. "I for one would advise you to stick to gardening and buying fruit smoothies and stay out of the killing business, no matter what your old friends seem to think."

Lunair listens. "Ah, thanks." She steps into the door, as he holds it in. She tilts her head at him. She seems curious. "I'm glad that's okay. And hm. It's easy to talk to you. I'm not sure why," She admits. "But it's a serious talent," She points out. "I am sure something you enjoy will come to you," She glances back. Lunair will get into line to order, leaving room for him behind her. Then at his comment about staying out of the killing business, her face contorts. There's a soft chuckle, water in her eyes. Something odd. A fit of some sort.

"Ahaha…" Wince. "Um. That happens sometimes, sorry." Deepbreath. "It's harder than you think… to simply change what it is you do after so many years. Some days are better than others." Smile. "That's all. But let me know what flavor you'd like?"

"Hey, it's cool. You're here, you're safe, you're in control." Sam rides out Lunair's episode with aplomb, making gently reassuring comments without making a noticeable fuss that would draw attention from others or embarrass her. What she's experiencing is nothing new to him; if anything, its familiarity from his dealings with PTSD sufferers is saddening.

Once she's past it, he smiles gently and shakes his head. "Nothing to apologize for. I know exactly what you mean: the past catches up to you sometimes." He says this quietly, then glances up at the menu and smiles. "Man, so many choices!" he comments in a more conversational tone. "Strawberry banana? Ooh, mango, that's fancy. Grape banana, blueberry banana — whoever owns this place sure does like their bananas."

"It doesn't happen much, I promise," She remarks, looking sheepish. Lunair takes a moment to shake it off. She looks to him. "You're awesome at this," No wonder people open up to him. It's hard not to just hug the guy. But thankfully, Lunair is more restrained than that. She takes a deep breath. Either way, she smiles back after a moment. "Yeah."

Hey, in her defense it's been well over a month since she's had to kill anyone. She seems amused by his conversation choice. "Whichever you like. I guess bananas are popular. I think maybe just berries for me," She considers. "Although, now that I think about it - what would you do if you could do anything?"

Sam glances at her sidelong, raising one eyebrow. "Inherit," he answers, deadpan for all of two seconds before his face breaks into a grin. "I just want to be able to pay for a nice place for Ma and feel like I'm doing something that helps people. Although…" he trails off thoughtfully before continuing, "I'd be lying if I pretended I didn't want to do something exciting. Jumping out of the back of a C-130, the rush of a HALO drop — that stuff's addictive. So, I guess some kind of combination of counseling and extreme sports." He grins as they reach the register, and orders something generally blueberry-flavored, with lots of banana and a 'protein bomb,' whatever that is.

"Anyway, thanks. I try to be a good listener. It's good to hear that that comes across sometimes."

An amused look and then a grin in response. She looks thoughtful. "Hmm. I had a really nice apartment before they pulled me in to live on campus. I guess they were worried about me," Dire undersocialization's left her a bit short in the social skills department, much like an understaffed store in the holidays. "But that's really kind of you… all of it" She considers. "I'm not sure how you'd counsel people while falling really fast though," She contemplates that. "I'll have to watch for something like that," Lunair replies simply.

She will pay for their order, setting cash out and accepting the change. "That's an interesting combination. I know that sometimes people ride horses and get therapy. I don't know about hopping down mountains and out of things," She furrows her brows. "But there's a lot I don't know." She's playing catch up on a lot. Think. "I hope you find something like that. I still have no idea what I'll do. Hmm… helicopter therapist? That sounds like someone'd end up flying into a window," Nooo…

"That makes sense," Sam comments with a nod, as they stand aside to wait for their smoothies. "Having people you know around you can be important — like a support structure. You can start to feel isolated or vulnerable when you live alone." He grins and dips his head when she starts speculating about ways to combine his conflicting interests. "I figure that whatever I decide to do for money, I'll have to do one or both of the others as a hobby. But that's fine — balancing that stuff is just part of life. Heck, I haven't had a real hobby in ages, unless you count collecting records." He doesn't seem put off by her lack of social skills at all.

Lunair listens, more than speaks for the moment. "I don't really know them, but I'm getting to," She admits. She shrugs and smiles faintly. His grin makes her smile though. "Well, you could do hobbies. And oh?" She tilts her head. "Well, what would your hobbies be? What kind of records?" Lunair seems curious in turn. She waits alongside him as the workers make smoothies, appeasing a fussy lady and tending to orders.

"Old soul and R&B, mostly. On vinyl, when I can get it," Sam answers readily. "Weird thing when you're deployed: you have all this cash but almost nowhere to spend it. And you're moving around all the time, so your stuff has to be really portable. So you end up buying either digital stuff, like mp3s and video games, or deal-hunting on eBay and shipping the results to your parents." He smiles, accepts his smoothie from one of the employees, and passes Lunair hers in turn. "So I should say my poor mom has been collecting vinyl on my behalf. Fortunately she likes some of the same stuff I do. Or unfortunately — she might get annoyed when I try to take over the collection." He smiles, leading them both to a seat by the window. "What about you — how do you occupy your hours?"

"Yeah?" Lunair listens. She smiles as he does. She hms. "Neat," Nod. "That sounds kind of tough in it's way," She looks thoughtful. She accepts the smoothie. "Thank you." She seems happy enough to listen and grin at the story. "I see." She follows along to the seat by the window. "Hm. Well. When I don't work or deal with something bad running around," She considers. "I try to watch people. I garden. Sometimes I brew tea or go shopping. It's hard to read people, so I browse the internet a lot, too. And these days I study. I have to take summer classes since I was only a part time student before. It was tough to explain sometimes." Shrug. She will carefully take a seat. "I'm not really exciting," She smiles wryly.

"I do listen to some music when I remember it." That's … an odd thing to forget. "What's R&B about?" Say hello to the kid who lives under a rock. "They didn't have much music around." Who is they? Weirdo.

Sam does look a little confused by her questions about music, but he's enthusiastic enough about explaining it. "R&B stands for rhythm and blues. It's sort of what led into the early rock 'n roll, and then it evolved alongside that as its own separate thing. Your Ray Charles, your Aretha Franklin, your Marvin Gaye, your Temptations," he says. "These days it's pretty much any pop with a black singer, but back then it was a little more distinct."

He takes a long sip of his smoothie, seeming satisfied with the taste, before continuing. "I've thought about going back to school myself. Never did get any college, and depending on what I decide to do, I might need it. So I'd be in the same boat, trying to catch up to a bunch of kids who went straight in from high school." He shakes his head and adds, "You shouldn't sell yourself short, though. What you do should excite you, and who cares what anyone else thinks?" He smiles. "Sitting around organizing old records isn't exactly the world's biggest adrenaline high, either."

Lunair gives him a blank look at most of it. "Oh," Nod. A SERIOUSLY blank look. She even seems a bit distant, contemplating. "I'll have to look that up," Yes. She sips her own smoothie, considering what he told her. She seems to like the taste of all the berries together.

A wry smile as he thinks about what to do. "What sort of stuff would you want to study there? There's a lot of choices…" She asks. "And I don't know. They put ads on TV… adults coming back to get more skills." Lunair remarks. "And that's true. But it's important to you, yeah?" She asks, smiling back.

"Yeah, to be honest, I haven't thought that far into it. That's how great a planner I am," Sam admits with a self-deprecating smile. "I gotta figure out where I'm going with life, then whether I need a degree, then where to get it. So, you know, just the entire plan for the rest of my time on Earth — no big deal." He grins and shakes his head. "I'll get around to it, I'm sure. For the moment, I guess I'm hoping something will just jump out at me." He pauses, then amends, "I mean, not like those three girls jumped out at me earlier."

An amused look. "No need to sell yourself short. It's a big decision," She remarks. Lunair tilts her head. "If you could get a degree without sinking your finances, it probably couldn't /hurt/ you, but it is a big time investment. Some people go part time and work a bit, too," She notes. "And people … can always shift gears," She splays her fingers a bit. At his last sentence, she snorts softly. "Most of them probably weren't. They were a bit emotionally fiery than the others I remember. The girl with mind control became a CEO. But she's pretty nice despite it. Still, a boss with mind control seems kinda scary," She admits.

"Most of them shouldn't be that aggressive." Lunair shrugs. "There can't be that many of us left, though," She considers. "I couldn't tell you. Most of us didn't want to be found again and frankly, there's enough to deal with without going back to that. Ehm. Well. At least there weren't any tentacles to deal with?" Always looking on the bright side. "… I got nothing," A helpless shrug and a smoothie sip. "I'll hope whatever it is you seek finds you."

"Hey, me too," Sam answers, flashing a grin. "And good luck with your studies, not to mention dealing with your past. Sounds like you've got some pretty interesting people in your life — and that's not always a good thing." He slurps at the bottom of his smoothie, then looks at it suspiciously. "Damn. Thought there was more in there." He shakes the cup, then puts it down. "And what I said earlier — don't hesitate to look me up if you do need someone to listen or wrestle with tentacles or whatever. I'd really be happy to help."

Lunair can't help but smile at his grin. "Thanks. And I suspect you have an interesting past, too. But we've only just met. So." In time! She finishes her own drink. "Hm. Well, if you want to take one with you, please order one before you go." She remarks. She sets her own cup down and looks to him. She smiles and nods. "Of course. I hope I can help you, too. I don't really know HOW, per se. But we'll see, yeah? I hope I'm not keeping you… it's been awhile," She says, glancing to a clock. "Either way, feel free to take some drinks home." Plural. She probably cares that way! "Okay?"

"Hah, that's alright, I'm full," Sam declines politely. "But I appreciate it. You're not really keeping me, but I like to check on mom at least once a day, and it's about that time now. I'd get one for her, but she doesn't trust anything that hasn't been fried." He smiles as he gets up from the table. "See you around, okay? And keep out of trouble." He straightens his jacket, drops his empty cup into the trash, and heads outside.

Smile. "Sure thing. And I understand." Pause. "I've heard of some fried drinks but that seems odd," Lunair furrows her brows in thought. Either way, Lunair lets it go and smiles again. "See you around. I'll do my best. Have a good evening," She waves to him and lets him go peacefully before she disposes of her own empty cup and takes her plant with her.

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