2012-07-13 The Legend Spreads

Thankfully, the streets and sidewalks aren't devoid of people yet, despite the late evening. Of course, in New York, there's always open shops too for which one can also be thankful. Satana certainly is! She has just finished feeding and now it was time to get a bite to eat. The young woman sits at one of the outside tables of one of the small diners. Sitting in front of her is a tall glass of iced tea and a large bowl of soup. Her eyes, glowing brightly, seem to dart back and forth as if expecting trouble of some sort. She's a little skittish being out at night after the last time.

Well, that was certainly an interesting way to spend an hour. Kit had just spent some time in a haberdasher's, getting an old tux of his spiffied up. He'd brought it with him when he came here, and now with a charity ball just around the corner--yeah. At least the man seemed pleased that someone as young as Kit had such an old-style garment in the first place. Now, though, it's time for a late dinner. Being a Friday night, the diner is packed, but that doesn't bother him too much. Not like he minds being around people, so. Sandwich and soda in hand, he looks for a place to sit down, and the only really free place is the table with the redhead--with interesting eyes. He's still getting used to how, in nearly every way, this place is the opposite of Bangalla, but he's pretty sure that's not exactly ubiquitous. "Excuse me," he says as he comes into her comfortable line of view, "but do you mind if I sit here? It's a nice night, but apparently everyone else thinks the same." A relaxed grin, there, given to the woman.

Packed is something you get used to quickly where Satana's from so all the people pressed together doesn't seem to bother her any. When Kit enters her line of sight, she lifts those glowing red eyes to him and offers a grin. "By all means." A motion is given to the empty chair, the gesture bringing with it a wince. Her shoulder isn't completely healed yet by any means and is still somewhat sore if she moves in just the wrong way. "I suppose it is a nice night, yes." Or as nice as the night gets. Satana knows what manner of things can and do lurk within in those shadows.

The wince doesn't go unnoticed by Kit, though he doesn't comment on it as he takes a seat and sets his dinner in front of him. "Thanks," he says as he scoots his chair closer to the table. "I'm--not from around here, as I'm sure you can tell, so all of this is still kind of new to me." A glance to the side, indicating the large number of people. At least he takes it better than a lot of new arrivals from small countries. "I have to say, they weren't kidding when they talked about the night-life in Manhattan." Another grin, and he starts unwrapping the sandwich. Chicken B.L.T., with plenty of toppings all smushed in. He figures he gets plenty of exercise in, so he can cheat a little and actually taste the culinary delights the city has to offer.

A sip of the iced tea is taken. "It shows a little, yeah." She casts her eyes around and then smirks again as he mentions the night life. "Yeah. It's an exciting city, to say the least." Too exciting sometimes. "And a little something for everyone no matter what you're in to." Lucky for her. A bite of the soup is taken and then another before she wipes her mouth quickly and looks up at her dinner companion again. "I'm Satana, by the way." And then her hand is offered as she finished making the introduction.

"Chris, Chris Walker, but you can call me Kit," he replies, reaching out to take her hand for a firm handshake. It's a confident one, not over-compensating by trying to crush her hand, nor being too weak, either. He also obviously works with his hands, by their somewhat-rough texture. A small bite taken of the sandwich, the reaction one of enjoyment that almost goes to a "personal" level. Obviously one who never had junk food as a youngster. "Oh," he says after washing it down with a sip of soda--root beer, incidentally, "yes, it's certainly an exciting city. So--well, it's like the world as a whole, just--boiled down to one city.  I really like it so far."

Her hand shakes his and she smiles. "A pleasure to meet you, Kit. Thank you for joining me for dinner." His explanation of of the city has her chuckling. "Yeah, I guess it would seem that way." Another few bites of her soup and her head tilts off to one side. "So, Kit, what brings you to New York?"

"College," says Kit, wiping the corners of his mouth like someone who'd been taught manners. "I'm enrolled at E.S.U., starting next semester. I could have probably gone somewhere else--but New York is one of the cities that seem to be--where the future is, if that makes sense?  I mean, you have the--the people with powers, you have people fighting for their rights, and that's where the /real/ future is: the law.  So, that's what I'm going to be studying.  I figure, why not get in on the ground floor of ensuring everyone's civil liberties?" A grin, there, self-consciousness peeking at its edges. Sorry; I just really find the subject interesting, so tend to talk on and on."

Satana's head tilts as she listens to him explain his thoughts and feelings on New York and why he's here. "It makes perfect sense actually, and you're right. New York is certainly an... active city." She chuckles and takes another sip of the tea before her attention returns to her soup. After a few moments, she speaks again. "What all have you seen so far? Maybe I could make a few suggestions." And then she smirks. "No need to apologize. Passion is a good thing."

Another bite of the sandwich, again washed down with a sip of soda. Though it's still obvious that such unhealthy concoctions are rather new to him, at least he doesn't eat like a /pig/. He does have manners. To her question, he says, "Not much, honestly. Just--haven't had the time, mostly.  The other night, I saw a bit of Central Park; seemed like a very nice place." Another smile appears, then he says, "What about you? Have you been here long?"

"Central Park can be nice. I'd suggest avoiding it at night." Her shoulder twitches and she gives a little shake of her head. "I've been here off and on my entire life. More so recently that any other point. My father and I got into a bit of a huff." Another pause as she takes a bite of soup. "I hear the Botanical Garden is beautiful."

"Didn't seem so bad when I was there," says Kit with a smile and a lift of his brows. "Saw some interesting wildlife the other night, but it wasn't too wild." And that's when a light bulb goes on over his head. You'd think that an attractive young woman with /glowing eyes/ would be immediately recognizable. You'd /think/, but it's not like he hasn't seen enough people and things that others might call out of the ordinary. "I'm told that, too, interestingly," he says, keeping the revelation to himself. "If I can ask--and of course, feel free to refuse--what do you do? I mean, you seem to know a fair bit about the Park at night, if you know enough to kindly warn me about it, so--I'm curious."

Satana's eyes lift to the man across from her and a brow arches. "You did, huh?" Her head tilts at his next question and she grins. "Let's just say I am intimately familiar with the things that go bump in the night." She gives a little shrug of her shoulders, wincing slightly and hissing. "Damn it," the word is just barely murmured before she takes another drink of her tea. "As for what I do... I actually don't have a job." She has other ways of getting the things she wants or needs.

Fair enough," says Kit, then winces a little, himself, as he glances at her shoulder. "If--I can be so bold, you might want to get that looked at. I don't have anything on me, or I'd offer. I'm not a doctor, by any stretch, but I--do have some familiarity with field medicine." Another grin, and he reaches for his soda.  "Living in Africa, you get used to the idea that hospitals aren't common, nor easy to get into, so you pick up a lot of the basics."  He takes a sip of soda,, then rubs his cheek with a fingertip.

"People like me aren't often employed." There's a light smirk from Satana before she blinks. "That's... Kind of you. It was cleaned and stitched. It's just sore now. If it would put your mind at ease to check on it, however." Another wry smirk. "People like me don't often go to doctors either."

A soft chuckle from Kit, who cants his head a little as he says, "Like I said, I'm no doctor. You want the right salve for a wound made from the right leaf, I can maybe do it.  Beyond that..." A shrug, then he reaches for his sandwich. "Besides, if it's already been tended to, I can just hope it heals quickly." A beat's pause, then he says, "I'm surprised that, 'people like you' don't often go to doctors. I'd imagine you'd need them no less than anyone else would." And with that, he takes another bite, chewing as he looks at her thoughtfully.

This makes Satana sit back in her seat and regard the man dining with her carefully a moment. "How many doctors do you know would want to treat a demoness? One that could tear them apart in an instant if she snapped?" A brow arches slowly. "The thought of killing someone because I was in pain and they were trying to help isn't one I like."

"Kind of goes with the territory, I'd think," Kit replies, shrugging one shoulder. "Then again, I'm not a doctor, so what do I know? I just think that if someone enters a certain line of work, they should know what to expect." Another pause of only a beat, spent thinking, then, "Think about, like, the police or something. If I were a police officer, and you needed help from something that could even tear apart a demoness, I'd jump in.  Sure, I might pay for it, but just because your eyes glow or whatever other such thing--that doesn't mean I shouldn't help you." A grin, and he adds, "Even if you curse at me or rip me a new one in the process. Goes with the territory."

That causes Satana to blink a little. "That's... I've never heard anyone with that outlook before, Kit. You'll find that things here aren't always so black and white. There are people that praise the superheroes who save them regularly but condemn people like me who do no real harm. Some even work as hard as the superheroes and are still tormented or ignored."

That makes Kit nod once, a sympathetic look on his features. "Well, true. Though, I think most people actually know that--I mean, sure, okay, you get the doctor who's a dandy or something, but I don't think that's most of them.  I think that one's memorable /because/ he's the exception." He rubs his upper lip with a fingertip, then says, "Take, uh--ooh, Spider-Man. I was reading in the paper, the editorial rants against him--but he still does what he does.  I think other super heroes, police officers, whatever--I think most of them are the same way.  Even--or especially--the not-so-super people who still get out there and help.  I think they know they'll be tormented, but--it has to be done." He chuckles there, lifting his brows in an expression of amusement-tinted self-mockery, and reaches for his soda again, saying, "Ah, there I go, monologuing."

"And here I thought it was only heroes and villains that did that." Satana's brow arches before she smirks. "You're right though. Hell, the only reason I made it out of Central Park alive the other night was because of a mutant and a gentleman who seemed entirely human and exceptional with his guns. Why he chose purple though is just beyond me."

Another grin comes to his features--obviously something they're not exactly unaccustomed to. "There you go," Kit says, leaning back in his chair with his cup. "A guy in--purple, you said?--and a mutant, both of whom sound like the sorts who probably shouldn't have been involved in something that could kick /your/ heinie, but--they jumped in anyway." A sip of his soda taken, and he quickly adds, "Oh, and--I don't know. I like purple, myself.  I mean, /how many/ guys run around in red and blue, or just black?  I'll grant it might not be the most--fashionable--but I say give the guy credit for breaking out of the mold." Yet another grin, there, at that bit of humor.

Now that gives Satana a reason to pause. "Huh. I suppose it is one way to make yourself stand out. I thought he was just announcing his pride but what you say is a distinct possibility." And then she chuckles. "Of course, riding through town on a white horse with a black wolf is bound to set him apart anyhow." She shrugs. "I'm honestly not even sure what he goes by. Didn't exactly have time to make introductions." And then... soup! A few more bites are taken and she sighs happily.

The "pride" comment nearly makes soda come out of Kit's nose. "Oh, my," he says after a few snickers. He'll have to remember to tell that to Guran sometime. "I--well, that /is/ a good point. Though, it /does/ make one wonder just what his name would be, if 'pride' really were the case." He's quite open to ribbing about the costume, even if it's not known that it's /him/ under it.

Satana's brow shoots up. "Are you alright?" She watches him carefully a moment and before long, she's smirking and snickering right along with him him. "Don't get me wrong... I like purple well enough. Just caught me off guard to see it on a guy who seemed straight." And, if for no other reason than her nature, the woman practically purrs. "It's a shame for women everywhere if he isn't." Ahem.

And that makes Kit snicker again, if--for slightly different reasons than might be expected. "Well," he says, leaning forward as if a conspirator, "you might be lucky and he's--not a full pinky, if you get me. He might well be--in the middle.  So instead of cutting anyone off, he might be more--open." A slight wag of his brows, then he adds, "I figure it's better to hope for the best outcome than the worst, eh?"

Satana watches him lean forward, a brow arching slightly as she takes a sip of her tea. Or tries to. Damn empty glass.. His words draw a laugh from her. "Quite possibly, I suppose." She gives a shake of her head. "I'd probably be far more interested in trying if this had happened a few weeks ago." And, as odd as the next sentence may seem, she says it with ll the certainty of anyone else. "I am very much in love with the man I'm with though."

That makes him smile a much more happy and warm smile, and he retrieves his sandwich once more as he sets his cup on the table. "Hey, that's good. I--I'm an old softie, I've got'a admit it.  I like knowing people are in love.  Keeps me thinking on what I'm going into law /for/." And with that, another bite of the sandwich taken, with just a bit of distraction coming to his face. Damn, there's nothing like this back in Mawitaan.

Satana snorts slightly. "Old? What? 24... 25 tops?" Red eyes roll as she takes a few more bites of her soup and then pouts. All gone. Damn it. She does, eventually, look up at him though and offer a soft chuckle. "Just remember the pleasant evening we had if we ever find ourselves on opposite ends of it." Because, honestly, more often that not... that's where she'll be.

"Somehow, I doubt that," he says, and sincerely at that. "I like to think I'm a good judge of character. You may call yourself a demon, but I don't think you are.  Maybe you were before, I don't know.  But that's not what I see now.  I'll tell you why--you can love.  I don't care what you've done, who you've been--anyone who can love, who can feel that so deeply they radiate just thinking about their lover--nah, they aren't a demon." And the last bite of sandwich gets plopped into his mouth, with a hint of regret that the thing has to end so soon.

Satana just... stares at him for several long moment until a slow but warm smile crosses her lips. "That... You cannot possibly imagine... Thank you, very much, Kit. For saying that..." And sure, she knows he doesn't realize she kills every other night but the sentiment is deeply appreciated all the same.

A lopsided grin comes to Kit's face, there, and he reaches for his soda. "Hey, it's true," he says, just as sincerely. "I mean, you might /do/ bad things, but those are things you /do/, not who you /are/." He's not exactly stupid. He realizes that the giant snake-things were very interested in her for a reason--but he refuses to think someone who can love is /evil/. He's seen too much true evil for that.

At that, Satana gives a mirthless chuckle. "Might... There are places in the prisons of this plane reserved for people who do what I'm forced to." A little shrug is given. "Either way, thanks for the compliment, yeah?" She smiles, sweetly and softly. "I've changed in a few ways since meeting him." And there's no denying how she feels. Even a 'normal' person could see the love she feels for her partner radiate from her. "And what about you, Kit? Any special lady in your life?" Since they've discussed hers, why not ask, right?

"There it is," says Kit, narrowing his eyes a little in amusement and leaning his head forward just a touch. "Force. You don't /choose/ to.  I won't ask; it's not my business--but whatever you do and however whoever is forcing you to do it--they /have/ to use force.  Let me tell you some day about pirates--real pirates, not that Disney junk with Depp.  /Those/ people were true evil, and they didn't need to have glowing eyes and an interestingly mystic geneology for it." Another grin, then he says, "Oh, and me? Eh, no one, as yet.  Not really looking, but not really /not/ looking, either.  It's--not something I'm worried about, though I admit it /has/ been on my mind more these days." Granted, that's more because he needs an heir should he die, but that's best not gone into, he thinks, so he finishes the last of his soda.

"Pirates?" That seems to catch Satana's attention a brow quirks at him. "No one forces me. It's just something I have to do to survive. Because of what I am." She gives a small shrug before letting out a soft 'ah' sound in understanding. "In other words... If it happens, it happens."

"Well," says Kit thoughtfully, "I think you could find another way if to get whatever it is you need, but--heck, you don't need me preaching, I'm sure." He grins there and starts collecting his trash. "I think I'm gonna get something more to drink, maybe another snack. You want anything?  I'll happily pay; consider it thanks for listening to me monologue like a superhero." He grins at her again, there.

Satana grins and chuckles. He's awfully accepting of what she is. "Another bowl of soup would be nice." She's trying to do the polite and social thing. A new gig for her certainly but since she's been suppressing her nature more often than not these days...

After gathering his own trash, he reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, then reaches across the table to gather hers. "Alright, be back in a jiff," he says, grinning again as he gets to his feet. A stop at the trash, then he heads to the counter, where it's only there that he realizes he'd forgotten to ask if she wanted a different kind. Well, he'll get what she had before and hope for the best. When he gets back, he brings another sandwich--pastrami with three cheeses--and another bowl of soup for her.

Satana blinks as her trash is gathered watching carefully as if she's studying him. When he disappears to place the orders, she leans back in her seat and lightly crosses her arms over her chest, seeming to lose herself in her thoughts. That's the way he finds her when he returns, the soup being sat down enough noise to draw her from her musings.

"Didn't know what to get, since I'd forgotten to ask, so I hope a rerun will do," says Kit, smiling as he retakes his seat. "I figured it was better to do that than risk getting something you didn't like. "Anyway, where were--oh, yeah. So, I think that's part of the problem, worrying about labeling people and assuming that tells you everything about them. Part of the problem I hope the laws can address." He realizes he might be a bit overly hopeful, but as he unwraps his sandwich he also knows that there's a reason he took the Oath he did.

"Oh no. The same soup is fine." Satana offers a smile as she picks the spoon up and takes a bite, sighing happily. His statement gets a smile from her. "That's very noble of you, Kit. Not many would try so hard." She watches him, eyeing him carefully as if trying to decide something. Finally, she simply gives a nod. "It pleases me that you will never know my father."

"It saddens me that you won't know mine," replies Kit. "I think you'd have liked him, if you like /me/." A grin, there, given with a shrug of one shoulder. "But he died doing what he loved, so I honestly don't feel bad about it, I mean, there's the obvious, you know--I /do/ miss him, but I know he died the way he wanted to, so I can't feel too bad." A beat. "And, I don't know--I mean, I don't think of it as trying. I mean, what, I'm supposed to care what you look like?  I'm supposed to care if you've got a checkered past?  Who doesn't, really?  All of us have pasts we don't like for one reason or another.  If I gave enough of a care, I'd be a sad sack, y'know?" a quiet chuckle as he retrieves his sandwich for a bite.

"I actually do enjoy your company, Kit. It's rare to find someone who sees things the way you do." She gives a smirk, eyes taking on a distant look for a moment before she looks back at him and the smile fades. "You don't know me though." She watches him a moment, head tilting. "What would you do if I told you three nights a week, I hunt someone down as prey and feed on their soul?"

"Offer to help find another way to get whatever it is you get out of it, if you wanted it," says Kit without missing a beat. "If not, well, hmm. Dunno, frankly.  Hope you at least go after killers, those who prey on the innocent.  At least it'd be--fitting.  Even just, in a sense." It might be interesting for a would-be law student to promote such a view, but--he's already proven that he's an "interesting" person as it is. He takes a bite of his sandwich, and there's that sense of gastronomic pleasure creeping onto his face again.

"You're the second person to do that. It makes me wonder if, maybe, there isn't a way I'm unaware of. They're needed in order for me to live and I only take the ones who would be meeting my father upon their death so..." She gives a small shrug and then winces. She's got to learn to stop doing that! After another few bites of soup, she lifts her eyes just in time to see that expression. "Really like those, huh?"

That elicits a chuckle, and Kit wipes the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "There you go, then. Obviously, I'm not off my nut if I'm not the first person to do that." He gives her another grin and shifts a little in his seat, crossing his legs at the knee. "Also, I figure there's got'a be a way. I mean, first off--look at what's around.  Guy with spider-related powers, that Superman guy over in Metropolis--isn't he from Mars or something?--and the guy running around in purple, and then there's gods, demons, sprites and imps and so on and so on...  I seriously /can't/ believe that with all of that running around, there isn't another way to get your, umm, soul-food." A snicker. "Sorry, had to. Ahem, yes, anyway.  Plus, hey, aren't there, like, a few really smart mystics around?  I could have sworn the editor of the Bugle ranted about them, too.  So, yeah.  I've got'a think /someone/ knows how to, umm, change your diet, as it were."

Satana smiles for a moment. "It would be far more convenient of there was." And then the succubus smirks. "I'm dating one of the greatest sorcerers I've ever known..." So no, she isn't holding out much hope but... It's a good dream to have, right! "It was funny, by the way, so no need to apologize." And then her attention is once again turned on the soup. So good!

"Ah, so, surely if he doesn't know, he'll know what to do so he can--uh, know," says Kit, narrowing his eyes and smiling at the realization that that came close to making little sense. "I kind'a figure that all the hand-wavy stuff is like everything else--you can be great at it, you can even be pre-eminent in your field, but that doesn't mean you know /everything/. What's life without a mystery to solve, right?" A lift of his brows as the smile widens a touch, then he takes another bite of his sandwich--and that proverbial light bulb clicks on again. "Oh, hey," he says, politely hiding his mouth behind his napkin. "Got caught up. Umm.  Yeah, I do really like these.  They don't have them where I'm from, and--I was raised on a strictly healthy diet, so."

Satana blinks at the mention of his diet, nose wrinkling. She lets the subject of her own drop for now begins ticking off foods he should try. "Then you need to try pizza, Chinese, cotton candy, chocolate, almost any kind of baked good, anything in a good cream or Alfredo sauce, Mexican food..."

"I /know/, right?" replies Kit, grinning anew. "I was at the dock, right, and there's this--this Mexican food van-thing? I had a /burrito/.  I understood why the line was so long, let me /tell/ you." A slight wag of his brows, a knowing look--it might be a look more often seen in stereotypical locker rooms between teammates talking about "conquests".

She can't help it. Satana laughs at the way he describes the food. the rest of her second bowl of soup is finished and she sighs happily. "And potato soup. I'd offer you a bit but I ate it all." She smirks and starts to shrug her shoulders but catches herself and stops. "Good stuff. Especially if it's fully loaded."

With a grin, Kit works on his own food, enjoying each bite with the same relish and near-"crisis". The last bite is plopped into his mouth and, as before, there's a hint of regret that the meal has to end. As tempting as it is to go back for thirds--it's probably a good thing he runs around so much in his off-hours. "Good stuff indeed," he agrees as he leans back, patting his stomach.

A laugh comes from Satana before she takes a deep breath. "Well, Kit, it was nice having company for dinner but as late as it's getting, I should get back to the apartment." She stands and offers him a grin. "It was nice meeting you and I hope to see you again."

"It was nice to /be/ company for dinner," says Kit as he reaches into his pocket. Bringing out his wallet, he tosses it to his left hand in a casual, relaxed, fun motion, keeping his right in his lap--and when she starts to stand, he times it as close to right as possible. "I'm still new here, so--" When she completes the move, there'll be a solid "tink-tink" sound of something metallic hitting the ground. "Huh, you dropped something." And when she picks it up--it's a ring. Made from an alloy of metals, colored bronze, on a silver-colored backing are what could be four Ps crossing at their base, or perhaps four swords crossing at their tips. <>

Satana blinks a moment and kneels to pick the ring up. She doesn't rise right away but rather turns it over in her fingers several time, brows drawing together curiously. "It... Isn't mine..." She doesn't wear jewelry. Her eyes lift to his and she holds it out to him with an arched brow. "Yours?" Those red eyes flit to the ring again. "It is awfully pretty though." Yeah, she has odd taste in jewelry.

"Do I look like the type to wear large rings?" asks Kit, setting his wallet on the table and holding up his hands, wiggling his bare fingers. "I dunno, you probably picked it up somewhere and forgot. I say keep it.  I mean, it looks like it would fit you, so--why the heck not, right?" He grins at her and gets to his feet as well, then starts to gather their trash. "Never know--might bring you luck, too."

Satana chuckles and stands, slipping the ring over the ring finger of her right hand. "Maybe." She admires the ring a moment before helping him gather the trash and pitch it before offering him another smile and then a wave of the fingers from her right hand. "Take care of yourself, Kit. I'll see you around."

"I certainly hope so, Satana," says Kit, glancing at the counter of the diner then returning his wallet to his pocket. Nah, probably shouldn't go for a third round. "I'll definitely look for you." And with that, he'll head off in another direction. "Yeah, I'll definitely look for you," he whispers to himself, sticking his hands in his pockets.