2012-07-29 Commiseration

This week has SUCKED. The whole damned mess with that red-masked jerk, and having to go talk with that reporter broad to get her HOUSE KEYS back... SUCKED. Helena walks slowly along a street in one of the more peaceful parts of NYC, not even really noticing how different it is from her accustomed Gotham. She's just that grumpy right now.

Gramercy is nice. Gramercy is very nice, in fact. Marissa, thus, feels oddly comfortable here. Despite all of her changed circumstances, the young mutant was raised to money and privilege. She leans against the outside railing of Gramercy Park, her back to the park as she watches the street, and probably looks like any other loitering teenager.

What an odd place for Kit to find himself. Especially with a grey wolf at his side, though it's not like Devil really wanted to leave him. The young man walks with an obvious limp, favoring his left side, and a large bandage just barely peeks out from his T-shirt. "I told you I'm fine," he tells the wolf, who has a thoroughly disbelieving mien about him. "It doesn't hurt that much anymore, you know."

Helena Bertinelli walks right past the gated park and the young lady, still mostly lost in grumbly thoughts, and people walking dogs hasn't been at all noteworthy. But that do...that's not a dog. She stops dead just a few feet past Marissa, staring at the man walking alongside what just CAN'T be a Malamute. Why the hell did she leave Gotham, again?

"..." Marissa stares at the wolf herself. Aren't they illegal here? It seems to be a very well behaved wolf, mind. Which is a good thing as its owner probably isn't in any fit state to stop it from doing whatever it wants right now. Not good, that. Not good at all.

The wolf snorts softly at Kit, looking ahead. "It was just a--it was nothing, and you know it," says kit, grinning like he's having a friendly argument with his best friend over who ate the last slice of pizza. The wolf looks up to black-haired woman and the blonde-rooted woman in turn, interest piquing--then his attention returns to Kit. "What, it's not--oh." Kit pauses in his speech, realizing that Devil's not bitching him out about the gunshot again. He looks to the women as well, offering a smile and a, "Hi." Not the best, maybe, but maybe he can be forgiven.

Helena Bertinelli stares at the odd man who was just talking to the not-Malamute, and thinks up the most LAME greeting in the history of lame. "Doesn't this city have a leash law?"

"I think wolves are illegal in Manhattan, anyway." She tilts her head, regarding the two. "But I won't turn you in. He's too handsome." Marissa's greeting, not nearly as lame as Helena's. MOST of her attention is on Devil rather than Kit.

In turn, the wolf huffs at the leash comment, and gives the handsome comment a canine smile and a slight wag of his tail. He sits on the sidewalk next to Kit, who just chuckles. "Now you've done it. His ego will be stroked for a week," he comments, arching a brow as he looks at Devil, then his gaze moves back up to flit between the women. "And I suppose it does have a leash law, but that's for dogs. He's not a dog." Somewhat of an obvious statement, maybe, but it had the benefit of being true. Technically not being a dog has come in handy plenty of times so far.

Helena Bertinelli frowns faintly, but he's right. She can't really argue that. Crossing her arms, she turns to look at Marissa as well, since the younger lady spoke up about the quadruped over there. That's when she looks around and realizes that she's more than a few blocks off course of where she wanted to be, and mutters faintly to herself.

"I know that," the young woman says, extending a hand towards the wolf so he can get her scent. Definitely a well-behaved and trained wolf, but wolves, in Marissa's limited experience, are not really *tame*.

There's too much intelligence in the wolf's eyes to really be called tame. He's Kit's /friend/, not pet, and he knows it. This can well be seen when he leans forward to sniff the young woman's hand--and promptly ducks his head to place it under that hand. Scritchings, please. Kit just shakes his head, looking to the muttering woman. "So--I take it you're not where you want to be?" he asks, ever helpful.

Helena Bertinelli looks at Wolfman Jack again and sighs. "That obvious? I was looking for a bakery someone said was nearby." She watches Marissa and the wolf 'greet' each other with a wary expression, honestly a bit afraid that the quadruped is going to snap at the offered hand. The clear request for affection is so dog-like she can't help but 'huh' faintly at it.

Marissa Sometimes scritches the wolf behind the ears. "Huh. He likes me." Definitely...shameless attention seeker that he is. "Or he knows he's found a sucker, one or the other. And I'm...still fairly unfamiliar with New York myself. I'd have to pull out my phone or something." Ah, yes, for GPS.

"A bakery, huh?" says Kit, pursing his lips and knitting his brows in a thoughtful expression. "Hey, Devil, if you'll tear yourself away for a moment, think you can find the nearest bakery?" The wolf snorts softly, ears lowering sideways in something of a "damn it" expression, and aims that expression right at Kit. Keeping his head under Marissa's hand, he shuffles around a bit so he can point his nose up, then down, then this way, then that. Ears flick in recognition, and he "points" with his nose in the direction Helena was going. "Down the street and--a block east, looks like," interprets Kit, not even bothering to hide his amusement at how much the wolf refuses to leave the scritchings. Shameless attention-seeker indeed.

Helena Bertinelli watches Devil's 'performance' and can't help but smile a bit. "Seriously?" She shakes her head bemusedly then adds, "If you're proven right, I'll buy you a pastry or something." She looks at Devil directly finally. "But no chocolate for you. I've seen what it does to your cousins." She then offers Marissa a continuation of that faint smile, clearly including the young woman in the invitation for pastries.

"A pastry *would* be good...but yeah, no chocolate for the...wolf. What are your names? I'm Marissa." She's clearly asking all three of them...of course, she knows Devil won't answer. Well...is pretty sure, anyway. As strange as her world is getting, she wouldn't be *that* shocked if he did.

"Chris Walker," says Kit, adding, "Call me Kit. And this," he nods to the wolf, who rears up a little to offer his right paw, "is Devil." A beat as he offers his own hand to the women, for a firm but not-overbearing shake. "And that would be great. It'd be nice to just sit down for a while, like /someone/ wants me to." He pointedly ignores looking at Devil, who gets a smug-yet-concerned look on his muzzle.

"Helena Bertinelli," the dark-haired woman replies. "I could stand to rest a bit too. Was a bit under the weather just a day or two ago." She pulls absently at the long sleeves of her shirt (yes, long sleeves. In July.) then looks down the street in the direction indicated by Devil before turning and starting off in that direction.

Marissa Sometimes has to stop scritching so she can walk. "Devil...he seems way too nice to have earned that name." Marissa grins, falling in next to Helena. SHE isn't hurt...but she knows how it feels, and she's wondering about the long sleeves, too. What's Helena hiding?

And Kit takes his unshaken hand back, arching a brow in humor as he sticks his hands into his pocket. He goes to follow a step behind the women, since the sidewalks aren't all /that/ wide, with Devil leading the little group. "He--can earn that name sometimes, especially when he's being a pest." And of course, the wolf gets a completely innocent look, and takes his job to hunt down that bakery more seriously. Not that he doesn't know where it is, but--he apparently isn't going to dignify the dig with a response.

Helena Bertinelli says, "I can see that." She follows the wolf though is still a bit wary of him. "Do you both live here?" New York City presumably. Her accent is carefully faint, but with the occasional New Jersey or Italian inflection.

Marissa Sometimes nods. "Yeah. I live in New York." Mostly. Sort of. It's complicated, but she doesn't want to admit to her current circumstances. Secret identity. If it lasts. Marissa smiles at the other three. Her own accent? Arizona.

"Just moved here a few weeks ago," replies Kit, glancing between the backs of the women's heads. His own accent definitely pegs him as not being a native, though it's carefully modulated so as to not be much easier to pin down than that. Definitely from southern Europe, maybe even a bit further south than that.

Helena Bertinelli smiles a bit to Marissa. "Looks like you're the tour guide then, considering I've already gotten myself lost once this afternoon." She watches Devil again, possibly to see when he's going to turn a corner, but maybe also in case he decides to start acting like the wolf he appears to be.

Marissa Sometimes laughs. "I don't think I've been here longer than Kit has. Maybe the wolf knows things the best." She doesn't seem too worried. "But this is a decent part of town, so getting lost isn't *too* big a deal."

((Heather Enters))

Devil leads the motley crew down the street, sniffing the ground or air occasionally. Behind him walk the women, and behind them walk Kit. He limps along behind the pair, favoring his left side as a whole, and there's a large bandage peeking out of his T-shirt over his left collar bone. "Hey," he says, "Devil knows the place better than I do. Still don't have a real phone, with the--with the Internet and all that, but I don't need it with him.  Haven't gotten lost yet." And the wolf just looks back over his shoulder, affixing Kit with a stern but friendly expression along the lines of "damn straight". When they get to a corner, the wolf sits down and waits for a human to push the button for the crossing signal. About the only one out of place, aside from the wolf, for the warm summer evening is Helena, with the long sleeves--but as yet, no one else has mentioned it. As yet.

What is Heather doing in this neck of the woods? That's a good question! Right now, she's coming out of a place across the street, with a large ice-cream Sunday in hand. Hot Fudge, Caramel, -and- nuts atop a swirl of vanilla frozen custard. She's not really paying a ton of attention to her surroundings at the moment, but just focused on the calories in hand. The spoon in her other hand is doing a great impression of a magician making the whole thing disappear. In fact, she stops to sit on a bench out front where she can finish the 'light snack' and once there, she does start people-watching.

The wolf might catch her attention. Maybe. A tall, dark-haired woman, a young man with a wolf, and a teenager whose blonde hair has suspiciously dark roots. The last mentioned glances over at the Woman With The Huge Sundae. "That makes me fat even to look at," she mutters, more amused than anything else.

Helena Bertinelli glances at Marissa then at the aforementioned sundae and the ... provocatively-clad woman wearing it. "Yeah. That's seriously unfair." Although, they ARE on their way to a BAKERY, so who are they to talk?

When Kit sees the young woman across the street, his eyes narrow--and not in a good way. That's the--woman--who bent his gun. While he's behind the women and, thus, his reaction may not be noticed. Devil, on the other hand, notices, and as Kit reaches over to slap the button for the crossing signal, he looks up at the man with a curious expression. He can sense Kit's sudden displeasure, and looks across the street to the woman, an air of defensiveness coming about the canine.

Another bite or two, and Heather's eyes set upon the wolf. She raises a brow and inclines her head. She grins a bit and waits for the folks to come closer, gobbling down more of the Sunday. It's like a high speed excavation going on there. By the time your group is within a few yards of her, it's mostly gone, and she lays the bowl down on the sidewalk, "Here boy!" she calls out in a pleasant tone of voice towards the wolf, "Wanna finish it for me?"

Marissa Sometimes doesn't notice Kit. DOES notice... "Somebody's trying to bribe Devil," she notes, cheerfully. With ice cream. Dogs like ice cream, so maybe wolves do too? 'Course, she's starting to get vaguely suspicious about THIS wolf. Maybe he's...something.

Helena Bertinelli can't help but notice Devil's increased wariness when Miss T&A 2012 over there tries to entice the quadruped with her leftovers. She glances back over her shoulder at Kit and sees that he's ... pissed off. Is he that mad that Ice Cream Barbie is trying to feed junk food to the wolf? It seems a bit excessive for that so maybe he knows the broad already.

The wolf wasn't there when the woman destroyed the handgun, and Kit has to keep that in mind. "Go for it, Devil," he says, trying to keep a friendly tone to his voice, but not /quite/ succeeding. He still is--less than pleased with the woman, but Devil just cocks his ears at the man's direction, then huffs softly in what may well be the canine equivalent of a shrug. Devil pads over to the offered bowl, sniffing it for a moment before starting to lap at it quite contentedly. Kit keeps his hands in his pockets, turning a little so the bandage on his collar bone hopefully won't be seen. "Aren't you the--woman from the magazines?" he asks, trying to bring that air of relaxed friendliness back.

Watching Devil come on over, Heather grins and stands up. She reaches one arm up over her head and grabs the elbow with her other hand to stretch that arm a bit. Then she hears the voice talking to her, "Huh?" she asks eloquently. "Oh, right. Yeah a few." he offers with a shrug, "Are you okay?" she asks, eyes narrowing as she studies the movements of Kit. "He yours?" she asks with a gesture towards Devil, "Or rather, do you belong to him?"

Marissa Sometimes starts to say something else, then her pocket produces, of all things, 'Iron Man' by Black Sabbath. "Oh. Crap. I have to go." Apparently she can determine that just based off of the ring tone, because she's already walking away even as she tugs an S-phone out of her pocket. "What's...okay. Yeah. I'll come over." Beat. "Sounds cool!" And a moment later she's flagging down a cab.

Helena Bertinelli waves after Marissa as she is called away, then watches traffic briefly before following Devil toward Ice Cream Barbie, some of her earlier grumbly mood returning. Well, Kit recognizes her at least. So she just stands there quietly for the moment. Nope, not gonna introduce myself. Silently disapproving Helena is silently disapproving.

After bidding goodbye to Marissa, Kit turns to Heather, still trying to hide the bandage. Maybe she doesn't recognize him yet. "You could say that," says Kit, growing a bit more at ease, even with her mention of his injuries. Technically, none of those were her fault. Technically. Though, he's still out one custom-made gun, which is a dark cloud hanging over his head. "And I'm fine. Got into a small scrape, which /someone/ won't let me live down." The last said affectionately, and there's a small huff from the canine as he's referenced. It's given while still finishing the ice cream, though.

Laughing melodiously, Heather crouches down and reaches a hand towards Devil, "I can see who wears the pants in -this- family!" She doesn't put that hand near the ice cream bowl, nor does she try to pet the wolf until he's had a chance to sniff her a bit. After all, you don't push an animal.. you let the animal do its thing at its pace.

Helena Bertinelli continues standing off to one side like a grumpy mcgrumperson, waiting to see Devil's reaction to Heather. So far, the lupine has seemed pretty darned sharp in the smarts department...

Scritches are never turned down. Devil pauses in his lapping to sniff that hand, then glance back at Kit. The man just gives a short nod, and the wolf happily ducks his head to place it under the offered hand. The former scritcher had to leave, so he'll accept this new one. It's Kit who's much more reserved about the woman, but at least he's trying to be friendly.

Well, scritches that are welcomed, are offered freely. "Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?" asks Heather as she leans in closer, both hands coming up to scritch the sides of Devil's neck, and then reaching down to the flanks with her other hand. If one thing is true, she's an affectionate sort. She looks up at the two of you, and inclines her head a bit, sensing something a little bit off. Well, she has her suspicions about Kit, but the woman is what makes her curious, "everything okay?" she asks.... still scritching.

Helena Bertinelli waves her right hand dismissively. "Yeah, I'm just... it's been a less than ideal week for me." She doesn't elaborate, not that she WOULD. What she does do is claim one of the other vacant chairs outside of the ice cream shop, hoping the lingering bit of headache backs off again. She really doesn't want to have to take a Percocet today.

Sitting's a good idea. Kit's thigh is killing him, though he'd be loathe to admit it. Still, he follows Helena's lead, easing himself down into a chair on Devil's right. That means he can't reach down and offer scritchings as well, since keeping his left arm against him makes the pain in his chest merely excruciating, and thus tolerable. "Seems like it's been a less than idea week for everyone," he comments with a lopsided grin, though doesn't ask for more information from Helena--mainly so he doesn't have to offer more, himself.

"Been okay for me. I made a new friend." says Heather, gesturing to Devil with her head as she keeps scritching, "I'd ask for details on the rough week, but I think I'll let sleeping dogs lie, so to speak." But then she stops scritching and gestures inside as she stands up. "Can I get either of you a bottle of water or something? You look a bit... worn out." she says, looking at Kit now.

Helena Bertinelli smiles briefly at Heather's offer, now maybe thinking her initial reaction was a bit harsh. "Yeah, thanks." She leans back in her chair, thinking maybe the bakery can wait for the next time she's in NYC for whatever reason.

"Nah, I think--" Kit starts, stopping himself when Devil turns his head up at him to give him a Look. "Actually, I guess that's a good idea, too, yeah," he says instead, smirking a little at the canine and slouching a little in his seat--then immediately regretting it. The position makes the pain in his left thigh flare up, so he straightens up once more.

Helena Bertinelli glances over at Kit's attempt to relax and KNOWS what that is. He reaches into her purse and without a comment offers him a bottle of ibuprofen.

"Good, I was -asking- her. I wasn't giving you the choice." offers Heather with a smirk as she turns to head inside. In there, she gets three bottles of water, and then she comes back out, setting one before each of you. She leans a bit closer to Kit and remarks very softly, "For the record, I'm sorry." And then she turns to head off, "Sorry to scritch and run, but I have an appointment coming up."

Great, two of them. Kit tries to scowl, but--he really can't. He takes the offered pain-killers with a polite, "Thank you," as Heather enters the ice cream store, and when she returns, he arches a brow at her. He says nothing, though, at least on that particular topic. "Not a problem, I'm pretty sure we understand," he says instead, offering her a wave. Okay, maybe he's re-deciding his opinion on her. Somewhat. The pill bottle is opened, three shaken out and downed, then the bottle is handed back to Helena so he can reach for the water.

Helena Bertinelli nods her thanks to Heather. "Hope that appointment goes well for you." Then she reaches for the returned bottle of ibuprofen and takes three herself. "We're a pair, aren't we? You look like you were in a car wreck, I feel like it."

"Yeah," agrees Kit with an arched brow as he reaches for one of the bottles of water. As he removes the cap so he can fill the bowl with water for Devil, he says, "Ever have one of those days when you feel like you're ramming your head into a brick wall, but everything you do only ends up with another slam? That was me." A grunt, then, as he remembers how easily that over-sized and ambulatory wall threw him around like a rag doll.

Helena Bertinelli hmphs faintly, her left hand resting limply in her lap while she uses her right hand to press her unopened bottle of water to the back of her neck. "More often than I care to admit."

Grimacing from the movement, Kit finishes filling the bowl, then leans back in his chair and tucks his left arm against him with a relieved look. The pain goes from incredibly debilitating to merely incredibly obnoxious. "Makes you wonder why you get out of bed sometimes?" he asks with a pained grin, glancing at her before looking down at Devil, who laps up some water then plops himself down for a nice rest.

Helena Bertinelli smiles a bit at that. "No, I know why I get out of bed every day. This just makes me wonder if I'm completely insane for making the choices I have."

A shrug of Kit's right shoulder--a small one, but at least it doesn't cause much /more/ pain--and he smiles, saying, "Sometimes I wonder the same thing. Then I think about the promises I've made to people.  My body will heal, but a broken promise won't." A bit white-and-black perhaps, but that doesn't make it untrue.

Helena Bertinelli smiles at that and holds her water bottle out. "A toast, to those of us too stubborn to know better."

"I'll drink to that," says Kit, picking up the other bottle of water and going to lightly thunk it against Helena's. "To those of us too stubborn to know better," he says, then removes the cap and takes a swig. Okay, so Devil was right. Water /is/ a good idea; he hadn't realized how parched he was.

Helena Bertinelli thunks her bottle gently against Kit's, then has to support it between her knees to break the seal with her right hand. The three ibuprofen disappear quickly, and she sets the bottle down on the table. "I think the bakery will wait for another day."

"I think that might be a good idea," agrees Kit, sitting at a table outside an ice cream parlor that evening. Not a large franchise, but still. To his right is Helena, and to his left--is a grey wolf, dozing lightly on the ground next to him. Next to him is an empty paper ice cream bowl, currently filled with water. Kit takes another sip of his water, sitting ram-rod straight in his plastic chair; mainly because trying to slouch aggravates the many and varied and obvious wounds. He holds his left arm pressed against his body, and there's a large bandage sticking out of the collar of his T-shirt, over his left collar bone. It's been one of those days.

Helena Bertinelli is very much slouched in her own chair, wearing long sleeves on a July afternoon but seeming to not care. She's got a water bottle of her own in her right hand. "Bummer. I heard they have cheese blintzes that are almost worth killing over." She glances at Devil. "You'd get all snarly over a blintz, wouldn't you?"

((Mystique and Billy Kaplan Enter))

An ice cream parlor. One of the advantages that Mystique had, was that if she 'forgets' her cell phone somewhere, takes a form that no one knows about, and just... walks, she quite easily disappears from existence, for a while. And she made very certain to do just that enough times to remain sane. And so, here she was exiting the parlor to take a seat that just so happens to be near the other two; a balding man starting to slump towards retirement age, dressed as an office manager, with laugh lines and a somber expression, leaning back in 'his' seat with a double scoop ice cream cone. Vanilla and strawberry were the order of the day, it seemed. Closing his eyes, Mystique lets a breeze brush by her in her stolen guise, before opening 'his' eyes and taking a lick of the ice cream, a bit of strawberry stuck in his mustache. Letting her now-brown eyes shift over towards the others, he pauses, canting his head just so. "That looks like it hurts," he says in an equally somber baritone, gesturing with the cone towards Kit. "Or that it hurt when you got it," he says, casting a not-unfriendly smile towards him, before shifting his eyes towards Helena. "You'll have to forgive me. I'm quite sorry to interrupt your date, hmm?"

Its been one of those days for more than a few people. Take Billy Kaplan, after a magic 'accident' he has managed to bleach his hair, as well as his favorite pair of blue jeans white, and turned his favorite t-shirt white, with a black Superman S shield instead of being black with a red shield like it should be. At least his brown messenger bag was spared the abnormal coloration. After that he had one of those aggravating conversations where his mother was entirely too understanding of his need to toy with his self identity and admitted she always had a crush on Sting. He is not sure which is more disturbing, that his mother had a crush on Sting, or that she thinks he looks like him. Either way, Billy has a mission to accomplish today. With a nice, and highly expensive, piece of waygu beef in a chilled thermal lunch box he has set off to find someone he owes a debt too, someone that has probably forgotten he promised that debt too since its taken him so long to build up the allowance to buy the very expensive meat. "Ok, spell said it was the ice cream parlor around here..." He mutters to himself before spotting the Wolf that saved his life. "Well, given how I look probably have a much better chance pulling off the delivery lie..." He says before heading across the street aimed for where Kit and Helena are seated.

...date? Kit arches both brows and looks to Helena, only then realizing that it could, really, look like a date--though one between people with /very odd/ tastes in dating rituals. Both are banged and bruised, and looking rather--out of place, though he supposes Devil can be mistaken for a dog. Kind of. A large and feral dog, but that wouldn't be the first time. Looking back to the mustached man, he says, "Oh, umm, you're not interrupting, really, and it's not a date. But, yeah, it hurt like heck, actually." Still does, until the pain-killers he got from Helena kick in. Probably after that, too. Beneath the table, Devil's nose starts twitching. His head whips up, ears pricking. He knows that scent anywhere. He's on his feet when he spots Billy, and he trots to the nearby corner to wait with a canine smile on his muzzle and a slow wag of his tail. Kit arches a brow--then sees who the wolf is waiting for, and has to smile. He'd recognize the young man anywhere, even if he has an--interesting--"look" going on.

Helena Bertinelli blinks and looks at the man and can't help but 'heh' faintly at the misinterpretation. "Yeah, not a date. No offense, man. Just a couple of people who've had an /awful/ week." She notices Devil get up to greet someone across the street, and looks ready to stand, as if worried that the wolf will forget about traffic.

Mystique leans up in her stolen guise, the brown eyes of the office man narrowing some as 'he' finally takes a longer look at the both of them. "The hell did you guys do? Walk into traffic or somethin'?" he asks, glancing between the man, and the woman. It was Helena's attention to the dog that swings his attention that way, and with another lick of the cone she sees the dog, and... hmm. That looked a lot like Pietro. Except... a lot slower. And younger. "That a wolf? Looks like a wolf. Really should have it on a leash, or somethin'," he says, his tone of voice a little distracted as he stares in Wiccan's direction. "...it's gonna walk into traffic, too."

Billy Kaplan grins as he spots Devil coming to greet him. With a small laugh he stops at the cornor and kneels down to be eye to eye with the wolf offering his hand so he can sniff and be sure it is him. All those things you do when you know how to deal with canines, especially the ones that are highly intelligent and more than half wild. "Hello there Devil, bet everybody but you know who is probably worried your gonna do something dumb and run into traffic. Why don't we go back over to the table and say hello to them. And I hope your hungry, I picked up that reward for the other night for you." With a grin he stands and starts towards where the Wolf came from. "Hello, sorry to interrupt but I...have a delivery for your friend here." He nods towards the wolf when he says the last and reaches into his messenger bag for his lunch box with a small smirk on his lips that Mystique might find familiar.

"More like the 'something'," says Kit, glancing back at the office worker before looking back to Devil. "And he'll be okay--at least, he'd better be." As pleased as the canine is to see Billy, Kit would have to half-wonder if he'll forget as well. That'd just be his luck. Though, Kit would never let him forget it, since the wolf does the same to him. Only reason Devil is out with him now is to play something like a nursemaid, reminding him to take it easy. Meanwhile, after greeting Billy, Devil accompanies him back to the table, plopping his rump on the ground rather happily. Kit looks up at Billy, grinning. I think he's just happy to see you again," he says, bringing his bottle of water up to his lips again.

Helena Bertinelli is actually a bit glad to see Devil is savvy enough to not try to step into traffic. After all, smart and savvy are two different things. When the wolf returns with his very monochrome pal, she scoots to sit up a little straighter in her chair. She's not gonna share her bottle of water, though. "Hey."

"Heh," says the man, before moving to lean back in his seat. "Well, you both take care of yourself, hmm?" he says, glancing between the two. "M'ice cream is melting," Mystique was careful to move slowly as 'he' rises, rolling his neck. Standing up straight, he was starting to walk directly towards Billy - well, a little to one side of him, tossing the remains of his cone into the trash can as he passes.

Billy Kaplan coughs a little clearing his throat. Ok, so some people are not as easily fooled by a change in posture and costume, along with hair color, when it comes to secret IDs. Something he will remember for later. "I bet he is more happy to see I fulfill my promises." He says as he unzips the thermal lunch box and reveals a perfectly marbled steak that probably costs as much as a full pay check for the average teenager in Billy's age range. He nods as the man passes by and leans down to give Devil the steak. As he drops the thermal lunch box a little bit of electricity crackles along his fingers for just a second causing him to shake his hand as if he just hit it on something to try and hide it and get his powers back under control. He just has to hope no one noticed it, because if anyone does its his own fault for going out while still tired and emotionally shook up over a few things he has gone through in the last couple of days.

"Alright," says Kit, nodding to the office worker pleasantly. "Take care of yourself as well. Pleasure meeting you." He's nothing if not polite, especially right now. The tension from seeing Heather has pretty much completely ebbed, leaving him much more relaxed--though not completely. Having plenty of bits stitched together and throbbing in pain doesn't exactly lend to one feeling truly at ease. Devil's the only one of the pair who notices the crackle, but that's not too surprising since he's looking right at the young man, and he's, well, a wolf besides. Ears flick up and he takes a step backward, but the offering of the steak, and the fact he knows Billy's a good sort, lets him dismiss the crackle. When the steak is offered, he takes it happily--and gingerly--from Billy, laying down next to Kit and beginning to chow down, more than a little content.

As the office worker passes Billy, he leans over, to whisper one word: "Maximoff..." with that said, though, he leans up, adjusts his tie, and carries on the sidewalk at a steadier pace, his fancy shoes clapping against the sidewalk as he goes.

Helena Bertinelli waves halfheartedly after the middle-aged man and watches the young very pale man gives a good looking steak to Devil. "Wow. What'd you do to earn THAT, huh?" Yes, now SHE'S talkin to the wolf. It's contagious.

Billy Kaplan blinks looking rather, confused when the office worker whispers a name at him. "Huh? What...?" He starts before the man is gone. "Oookaaay...." Stranger things have happened to him, but not involving middle aged men. Still looking a bit confused he looks at Kit and the woman with him. "Do either of you know that guy? Cause if whispering names at teenagers is some way of flirting I don't know..." Billy just shudders at the idea.

"That was a name?" says Kit, arching a brow. "I didn't really hear it, but it sounded vaguely like--something else." Though just what that "something else" is, he shan't elaborate on. He turns to look at Helena, saying, "This young man just helped Devil and myself out a while ago. He lent a hand to a tricky situation, and Devil's pretty much been in love ever since." He grins at the woman, there, tone and expression adding that he doesn't disagree with the wolf one bit. He also is all but holding up a purple Neon sign to Billy, but--Devil thinks Billy's more than merely okay, and the wolf's judgement is good enough for Kit.

Helena Bertinelli totally missed what that man did, so she looks from Billy to Kit and back when the comment on it. But then Devil's pet human explains the steak and she ahhhs. "Helpful, AND bringing steaks as gifts." She looks at Devil again. "I think I'm a bit envious."

Billy Kaplan nods and then blinks. "Oh Gods, I hope it was a name. I really hope he just said Maximoff and not...anything else." Billy shudders again, definitely not his best day ever. "And he is leaving out that Devil here earned that steak, that very very expensive steak, is that he saved my life. And while we are on that kind of topic, did he not manage to pull you out of traffic in time? You look like you got hit by a bus." Billy grins at Helena, "Bringing waygu beef steaks. Trust me, the difference in price is worth making sure you get the full name in there."

"Eh, it wasn't that bad," says Kit, shrugging his right shoulder. It actually was, but--secret identities should be secret. Admitting how bad it really was might prompt too many questions that he'd rather not answer. Devil, for his part, couldn't care less about the conversation at the moment. He's got his eyes closed, and is chomping on the steak with extreme happiness. "But yeah--we both have been having a heck of a week, eh?" The last said directly at Helena; he's respected her privacy and not prodded, partly because he doesn't want to answer the obvious similar question, himself, but he does have to continue the commiseration.

Helena Bertinelli looks at the pair again and just nods. "Yeah, that's putting it mildly. A heck of a week." Her gaze lingers on Billy for a moment. "I have to ask, though. You planning on going to a Harry Potter convention as Draco or something?"

Billy Kaplan raises and eyebrow at what Kit says but, he can understand the whole secret ID thing and having to hide injuries. Till he had his powers he had to hide more than a few bully caused injuries from his family. Billy coughs a little. "No, there was an...accident. My hair took the brunt of it and I figured I would just go with it at least till its recovered enough to dye back." Of course he is not going to mention that he has tried dying his hair back already and what ever backlash bleached him made it so the dye was 20 bucks wasted.

The reference goes right over Kit's head, not exactly being up-to-date on modern pop culture. Still, he gets it /enough/, at least he likes to think so. "Could always shave it off and go the bald route," he says with a grin, looking up at Billy. "I think you'd look interesting, bald." A beat, then, "Why don't you have a seat, eh? May as well take a load off, if you've got nowhere else to be at the moment." He looks at the young man closely, realizing that there's "something" going on, but decides that now isn't the time to ask.

Helena Bertinelli can tell these two probably have something to talk about, so pushes herself to her feet. "I've got to get going, actually. It's a bit of a haul to get home, and I really don't want to be stuck on the train. You know?"

Billy Kaplan grins and shakes his head. "Shaving is right out, ending up looking like a member of the family Targaryen was bad enough, I go bald and my mother would really freak out. Actually, I do have a few other chores to do today. I just had planned on tracking down Devil so I could deliver the steak while I was out. Its surprisingly easy to track down a guy that travels with a wolf without a leash." As Helena starts to get up he does what any well trained guy would do, and moves to help her get her chair back and stand if she needs the help thanks to obvious injuries. "Sorry to interrupt your date at all, be careful on the train Ma'am." He says before he starts to leave himself. As he turns away he uses the fact that neither of them can see his face to very quietly chant something under his breath about healing. If nothing else he can give a little help in making both of them feel a little better...and with luck Helena won't even think about him when she wakes up in the morning fully healed. Kit already knows he has magic, so him at least he won't care if he realizes what he did.

Since he's not exactly a slouch in the gentlemanly manners department, either, Kit gets to his feet as well, even if it's not exactly done easily. Billy can easily beat him to help with the chair, which he realizes he should have done earlier. Stupid injuries. Stupid big, bald, indestructible goon. Oh, well. "Hey, look me up in the future if you want to talk, okay?" he says, smiling and going to offer Billy his hand for a firm shake. He'll do the same to Helena, saying, "And it was definitely a pleasure meeting and commiserating with you." That's said with the smile widening into a grin, as Devil forgets his steak for the moment to get to his feet as well, and says goodbye to the others in his own way, which is a wag of the tail and a canine grin. Yes, that includes Helena, specifically. He could tell that she'd warmed up to him, of course, and the feeling is mutual.

Helena Bertinelli is amused that even Billy mistakes their relaxing in front of the ice cream shop for a date. With an amused smile she shakes Kit's hand, then finally offers Devil a hand. "If you ever want to get together for a pity party, look me up. I'm a master at those." She then looks at Billy and can't help one last comment about the hair. "Go for the crazy colored dye. It's distinctive." With that and one last scrub at Devil's left ear, she's walking off toward the nearest subway terminal and trying to mentally calculate how long it'll take to get back to Gotham by train. Ugh.

((Fade Out))