6/15/02

Harbor Park -- Fountain

Nicodemus enters the park from the city streets after skirting the chainlink
fence for half the length of the meadow. He enters and detours towards the
swings, loiters a moment, then changes direction after a look around and
heads towards the fountain.

J.C.'s short, grubby little form is near the fountain, or specifially near
one of the trash cans set up in that area. One arm is buried past the elbow
in trash, face scrunched into an expression of concentration as she feels
around.

Nicodemus subconsciously--or consciously perhaps--alters his path ever so
slightly to give himself just that much more space between himself and the
rummaging bag lady. His boots clunk on the cement surrounding the fountain
as he leaves the struggling swaths of grass and weeds.

J.C. suddenly grins, and drags her prize out from underneath the canful of
trash, scattering a few bits of displaced litter on the ground nearby. It's
a Burger King wrapper, and the Whopper inside it is almost entirely whole;
only a few bites have been taken out of it. "Stupid wastin' sons-a-bites,"
she says to herself, almost cheerfully, dropping the burger into a plastic
Wal-Mart bag. She gives the area a quick look 'round, and that's the point
where she notices Nicodemus, and blinks, surprised.

Nicodemus pays no direct attention to you, though he certainly doesn't look
oblivious to his surroundings. Only a dead person would do that in this neck
of the woods. The goth stops, coincidentally just at the edge of the chalked
markings on the ground, as he looks over the fountain's new design. "Hmph,"
he half-grunts to himself as he takes the view in.

J.C. scratches at her nose, then picks up her bag (which has more than the
moldy Whopper in it) and takes a few steps over, slowly. "Weird, ain't it?"

Nicodemus casts a sidelong glance at you, warily and tense in this area,
smart enough to not act it, but not good enough to fully supress it either.
"It's different," is all he says, accent indicating he's a long-time local.

J.C. flashes the goth a broad, friendly grin, baring yellowish and rather
crooked teeth, the front ones prominant. And she stops just outside the
personal space range. "Yeah, but that bouncy thing uptown's cooler."

Nicodemus, unsurprisingly, doesn't appear particularly keen on sharing even
the boundaries of his personal space with you. His body angle shifts subtly
a few degrees in a direction away from you. "Yeah, I guess." His gaze drifts
down towards the chalk markings.

J.C. snuffles, then wipes at her nose with the back of her hand. "S'weird,
ya know," she says, plunking herself down on the grass with the bag in front
of her. "I almos' never see nobody in this park, 'n never at night. S'not
like the one uptown. That one's, d'no, cheery 'n stuff."

Nicodemus studies the blue chalk markings for a bit before withdrawing a
black cigarette with gold trim from inside his jacket, placing it in his
mouth. "Bad neighborhood." A zippo is produced, the goth still looking over
the drawings as he steps over onto it and looks at if from another
direction. "Attracts the bad types." Flame from the zippo briefly
illuminates the words engraved on it: TRUST NO ONE. The lid snaps closed and
the flame dies, the zippo disappears, and the goth takes a drag while
continuing his study.

J.C. reaches into the bag and withdraws the Whopper. She unwraps it and
takes a bite, ignoring the dozen or so hapless ants that will never see
their Queen again. Chew, chew, swallow. "You noticed that, too?" She takes
another bite and adds, mouth full, "No cops, though."

Nicodemus crouches to examine one particular portion of the artwork on the
ground. "Not often, no." He takes another drag on the cigarette as he
straightens back up, apparently satisfied with just a quick glimpse. He
moves a little further away while giving the park a casual once-over.

J.C.'s bloodshot eyes follow his movements unerringly as she chews and
swallows and occasionally wipes at her nose. "You're cute, by the way," she
says. "I like that little finger thingie."

Nicodemus takes a lengthy drag on the cigarrette, as if he'd been dying for
one for days. He lets the cute comment slide, but glances at his finger
gauntlet as if he might have forgotten he was even wearing it. "Oh. Yeah.
Probably be out of style next month." He looks around the park once more and
ends up facing back towards you. A finger points towards the west-southwest.
"There's a shelter over that way a few blocks. Lot safer to spend the night
there than out in the open."

J.C. reaches under her shirt and scratches vigorously at an itch. Then she
turns her head and coughs, the sound wet and phlegmy, into the shoulder of
her coat. "Yeah, I'll probably stop by (hack) there later."

Nicodemus offers a simple, subtle nod in response before departing towards
the northeast to walk along the shoreline for a bit, pausing every now and
again, before cutting back across the meadow and leaving the park to the bag
lady.

J.C. spits out a wad of mucous and wipes at her mouth. Her eyes follow the
goth's departure, the big cheerful grin fading into a more thoughtful
expression. Eventually she shrugs, and remains to finish off her Whopper.