(no subject)

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

After a busy morning, Sooraya comes in through the lake door. She drops wearily into a seat at the Bar, rubbing at her temples.
Bar takes her order for a serving of qabili pilau and cold tea. She takes them to a quiet corner, someplace where neither door is in her line of sight.

Comments

[hatchingviper.livejournal.com]

The spot adjacent to the quiet corner is taken. From this seat, both doors are in lines of sight. The occupant is quietly reading a book.

His head tilts a little in the "someone just got into the range I should notice them" way when she's halfway across the room, and he looks up a moment later and gives a small, social smile.

(Not "sociable." There is an important difference.)


((OOC: Mun is fixing food and tags will be slow.))

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

Sooraya's long since had the habit of keeping a sharp eye on her surroundings, so the man's presence doesn't go unnoticed. She smiles back politely, inclining her head. "Good evening," as she reaches for a chair to pull out at her selected table.

[hatchingviper.livejournal.com]

"Good evening. That smells good." It's been a day since he was sick; his appetite's back to normal and he's just noticed he's been too busy studying to eat since. . . hm. Breakfast. "What is it?"

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

"It's called 'qabili pilau'; lamb, rice, and some vegetables and spices. If you enjoy trying new things, I'd recommend it...but have some water handy," the dish tends to be spiced heavily.

[hatchingviper.livejournal.com]

"I spent a year in Spain once." He must mean with his family; he doesn't look that old. "I'd imagine some of the food must be similar, given the heritage."

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

"So I'd think...Spain? As an exchange? Or for work? I've never been. Only to the United States so far, outside Afghanistan."

[hatchingviper.livejournal.com]

"My family visited there for my father's work. I believe I was eleven." He nods, listening. "I'm from the 1970s, if that helps give you an idea of my world."


((Of course! This pup's 18 and messed up.))

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

She does a quick mental review of '70s history before answering. "Somewhat. Though perhaps not the same Earth. Yours might be more peaceful."

[hatchingviper.livejournal.com]

A lot of people have found Wesker hard to read, but something strained and weary just crossed his face.

"What year is it for you? And what causes the unrest?"

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

She catches that, and winces. Apparently her speculation missed the mark.
"2003. My world's in the middle of a kind of...genetic upheaval that's caused friction among the human population," she answers carefully. "Do the terms 'X-Gene' or 'Genosha' have any particular meaning to you?

[hatchingviper.livejournal.com]

In turn, he catches the wince. He lowers his gaze for a moment, rather wishing he had a moment before. She caught him off-guard.

"X is just a description of alleles whose function we haven't identified fully yet. For the other term, nothing whatsoever."

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

"Lucky you. It's not unidentified on my version of Earth." She hesitates over divulging the rest, though now she's mentioned it...well, outlining the situation in general didn't mean she had to give out her own secrets. Or not yet.

[hatchingviper.livejournal.com]

"There's a few of them. We've mapped the code." Prideful scientist? Well, yes. "That doesn't mean we've determined the function of every gene."

(And since most worlds haven't gotten that done until thirty years later. . . well, someone's been unusually busy.)

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

Aside from the meat, that smells like the sort of thing that the scarred man by the fire is used to eating. So he looks up when a breeze carries the scent past him and offers a smile and a nod to her.

Spoon is not either of the werewolves who has been in the sandbox, so he's got no idea if there are rules to talking to someone in her headdress. Makes things a little awkward, but that's life.

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

"Hello," her voice is warmly polite as she returns the nod.

No rules that wouldn't be common sense in most quarters; i.e., don't grab at her veil or hood, and other than that? Sooraya is accustomed to people not knowing much of where she's from. She won't take offense at a slipup, if any happen.

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

"Hallo, ma'am." Spoon says in return, with another dip of his head, "I can guess you're from somewhere in the middle east, but, uh. I dunno much about the customs..." he waves vaguely at his own face, "it's alright to talk to you? Obviously, you just talked to me. Can I try that again?"

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

"I am from Afghanistan, originally. The year 2003."

"Surely," her smile doesn't falter, and it's reached her eyes. Her posture's calm, casually friendly and relaxed. "My name's Sooraya Qadir. Thank you for asking. Questions don't bother me half as much as people who don't know and can't be bothered."

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

"Me name is Spoon. Yorkshire, England, 2005. I, uh. Ask a lot of questions." Spoon allows, cheerfully, "Easily confused, see. It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Me mum cooks foods from Afghanistan, and surrounding areas, a lot."

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

"Everyone is, sometimes, no? I know I was; especially when I had to learn English after a move to the States.
A pleasure to meet you, too, Spoon. Is your mother a chef, then?" taking a guess as to his meaning.

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

"Relearning it wasn't bloody easy either." Spoon can relate to learning English. He had to do it a second time, up from canine. "She's a baker. The rest of us are hopeless in the kitchen, though, so she does all the cooking for the pack."

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

Sooraya now has a few questions of her own. She tilts her head at him,
concern flickering in her eyes, at the 'relearned'.
"I can imagine. One of my team is forbidden to even TOUCH the oven at home, after we spent a week scraping 'fish and chips' off the ceiling.
'Pack'?"

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

Spoon is good at body-language. (His specialty is "I am going to shoot you now") At the concerned look he says, "Massive amounts of brain damage. Grew the brain back, having to relearn most of the other stuff. I chop the vegetables for mum most nights, and I'm learning to make candy. Pack. Werewolf, see."

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

Sooraya, if she had a specialty, it would probably be "I'm lying my ass off" or "you scare me, mutant."

Her eyes widened. "[Allah, have mercy...]That must have been dreadful," soberly. "Yet, I wouldn't have known you were still a learner, if you hadn't said so.
Werewolf? Of the supernatural kind, or by birth?" She knows shapeshifters who can take a wolf's form, and so she doesn't immediately infer 'magical' or 'supernatural cause' from what he's said.

[there-is-a-me.livejournal.com]

Spoon's no good at either lying or being scared. He tends to get angry if he's scared. Call it a survival instinct. He shrugs and says, "It was. Started trying to rehabilitate me in, mmm. December of '02. Started talking again in '04, and they let me go last February." Most of this he doesn't remember. At her questions he holds up his left arm; the one that looks like something very, very large ate most of the flesh off of it; leaving a perfect ring where the skin tore when Sarge's wrist-watch caught before the whole thing ripped off. "Bit, ma'am. Uh. Rather a lot."

[dust-to-order.livejournal.com]

Those are good instincts. One could wish some people in the X-Verse had a better developed survival sense.
She hissed softly between her teeth, started to reach a hand toward his arm before stopping herself. "It must have taken a great deal of strength to overcome that. You have others helping you, you said?" She's still not smelling afraid. There's worry, but it's not self-directed.
She grew up in a part of the world where 'peaceful' was the exception, not the rule. Scars are sickeningly familiar territory.