2014-07-02 - When Henry Met Carrie

It is early evening in North Salem -- just at that point at which most people still can't decide if it should be called 'afternoon' or not. The 9-5 businesses are already seeing the evening batches of customers head for home, followed shortly but the employees as they knock off from work -- and traffic is well and truly into the infamous 'rush hour' for the latter half of the day.

It is a good time of day for cafes and family restaurants -- the ones that cater more to people 'on the move' than those expecting a sit-down meal. In one such cafe on a street corner not far from the entrance to the Twin Lakes Village, there sits (rather, 'perches') a large, hairy man on a stool by a table, with a tall, brunette woman. The man is... blue -- that is to say, covered from head to toe in a thick, groomed coat of blue fur -- and he has his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Resting on his haunches atop his seat, he speaks with the woman while peering at her from under a pair of goggles he wears around his brow.

"...and so my theories on the tachyon-displacement phenomena in this particular designation of celestial singularities are going to revolutionise the way we understand time travel, today..."

The woman looks like she might faint from boredom as the 'beast' prattles on, endlessly.

After a long drive through Gotham and into New York, it seemed like an excellent idea to stop for a cup of coffee to recharge while waiting for traffic to settle down. A red 1960's Corvette convertible eases down the street only to deftly tuck into an empty parking spot before it could be sniped by anyone else. The vintage car gets a few look from drivers passing by, no doubt the reason Carrie was able to tuck it into a spot so easily. Pulling the keys up she slips out of the vehicle taking care to step lightly so that she doesn't end up with a heel in a hole or crack in the pavement as she locks it up.

The little fashionista of Gotham was wearing a pink lace sundress with a polka dot underskirt to add a bit more color, and texture, to the attire. Who said lace was for old women? Spinning her keys around on her hand absently she twirls it and catches a few times as if it were a baton, or she were juggling one-handed, as she makes her way over to the cafe that the Beast was already seated at.

It's difficult not to stare when you realize there's a large blue furred individual perching on a chair talking away, and Carrie steals a glance now and then while absently placing her order for a latte. She does her best, but then she hears 'time travel' and her ears perk up causing her to glance over again with curiosity at that topic. "Here," she murmers sliding over a ten to the barrista only to scoop up her cup of frothy foamy delicious caffienation to step in that direction. A look is given to the brunette that Beast speaks to along with a small quirk of a smile at her obvious boredom before she asks, "How do you account for the tenth-dimension theory when dealing with time travel?"

The tall brunette glances from the blue-fellow to the young girl and takes a step backward. &quot;Thank you, Doctor McCoy,&quot; she says while stifling another yawn. "I... would love to hear more of your theories but I really must be going..."

McCoy smiles and gives the woman an understanding -- if, apparently oblivious -- nod. "Of course, of course!&quot; He quickly glances between both women and holds up a finger. "Fascinating that you should ask, my dear girl -- " then to the older of the two: "Did I mention earlier the common misconception as to the number of relative dimensions?" As the woman leaves, he slightly raises his voice: "I'm giving a speech next Tuesday at the Department... of... Oh. Well, would you look at that: she left."

He smiles again at his previous conversation-partner as she walks away, and then directs his attention fully toward Carrie. "I've been trying to dissuade her for the last twenty-three minutes and... seventeen seconds. Where politeness failed, science prevailed! It always does, you know."

He pauses.

His eyes narrow and he raises a hand to rub at his chin while one of his feet reaches across his table to pick up his coffee-mug. He balances on the other foot, atop the stool. "Capital! A fellow student of string-theory... My name is Doctor Henry McCoy -- but you may call me Hank, if you wish. You really should stop by the School sometime, Miss...?"

As the other woman uses the distraction to hurry off Carrie merely smiles politely at her, and raises her latte for a quick sip. It's just a small one as she hums enjoying the little frothy top that was always so darn good at first sip. It's a good thing she'd already swallowed however as Hank admits he was trying to get her to leave. A quick laugh comes in response and she quickly covers her mouth with one hand trying to stifle an out-right laugh. "I was wondering which one of you was trying to really escape there," she has to admit with a grin of merriment.

"Carrie Kelley," she fills in only to extend a hand in offer of a shake. "Pleased to meet you, Doctor McCoy." Eventually she would call him Hank but it was so ingrained in her to be polite first. Nothing shook that--Not even the grumpy sorts she usually ran around with. &quot;I'm familiar with String Theory but admitedly it's not my main area of interest. I take after computer sciences and psychology most often. You'd be surprised how much both come in handy."

McCoy's eyes twinkle merrily as he takes Carrie by the hand -- practically engulfing hers with his own.

"I think I like you, Miss Kelley," he remarks in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, with mirthful 'highlights'. He passes his coffee cup to his lips and sips with all the composure of royalty -- despite balancing on one foot on a stool. Taking the cup in his hands, he resumes his original pose and tilts his head to the side while his eyes study the girl in front of him.

"I always try the polite approach to problems first -- very well, not //always//. Sometimes there is simply too little fun to be had, wouldn't you agree?" He sips more coffee. "Do you study here in New York?"

Carrie it wasn't the first time she'd shaken hands with someone larger than her by far, but the fur. That was a new one. None the less she gives a good solid handshake without trying to do the 'squeeze as hard as you can' thing that many often did in such cases. Or maybe that was just a guy thing. "No harm in a little fun sometimes," she has to agree with a chuckle. Tipping her head to the now vacant seat she asks, "May I join you?" Though the conversation continues she doesn't sit until that question is answered. Just in case he might have to run off somewhere if his time was short.

"Oh, no, I don't... I'm not even in college yet," she has to admit with a shrug. "I'd say I'm homeschooled but honestly it's more like a self-directed study at this point. I live out in Gotham, and likely I'll be attending the university there. Though I do have several friends that attend in New York." Wrapping both hands around her large latte cup she takes a small sip before asking, "You mentioned the school. Do you teach up at the institute?"

McCoy nods several times to both questions, motioning to the chair with his hand. "Please!" he sips more coffee, then hops down from his 'perch' to sit at a more reasonable height to his new coffee-companion. "Gotham... I have visited Gotham, recently. It was... let us just say it left quite the impression." His lips spread in a wide, toothy smile. "You must be quite the student -- self-motivated! Very healthy. I like it."

He motions up the street with his other hand. "I teach wherever I am most needed, I suppose -- but for now, it is primarily at Xavier's Institute. You mentioned friends -- perhaps I know them?" Still smiling at Carrie, McCoy shifts his attention slightly to share the smile with a family walking past. The six-year-old boy stares back at the 'Beast' with wide eyes, and breaks into giggles when Hank waves at him with his foot.

When the parents turn around, he quickly drops his foot, clasps his hands together and whistles in feigned innocence.

Carrie slips into the chair scooting till she's just right with her heels carefully avoiding being caught on the lower rung of the chair. Tempting as that was it was a surefire way to fall on your face if you forgot about it. Her attention shifts to the passing family grinning when the little boy waves. She looks away a moment when the parents do though she likely wasn't their target to be suspicious about. "It's quite possible. I know Noriko through Julian Keller and I hadn't heard from her in awhile. So I thought I'd come out and visit since it's summer. Plenty of free time and the weather's nice now. Well." She pauses to admit, "It's usually nicer weather here than in Gotham to begin with. It's home, but it's almost always overcast."

As she talks she reaches up to idly run her fingers back through her short red hair tucking it behind an ear and silently wishing she'd just pinned it up today. Once again she adds 'haircut' to her mental list of things that needed to be done. "Some of my other friends attend college in New York as well, but in the main city. I seriously doubt you'd have had Tim or Conner as students. I think they major in playing videogames."

"Video games," McCoy repeats with a sagely nod of his head, transitioning seamlessly from the 'blue bundle of mischief' into the 'nutty professor' role. "I confess, I have always had trouble with video games -- there just never seems to be one quite challenging enough. Now, mutant and metahuman biochemistry! //There's// a game not for the faint of heart!" He breaks out into a chuckle that lasts for a handful of seconds.

"Home, you know," he mentions with a purse of his lips and a hand reaching up to brush hair away from his ear. "Home will always be 'home' no matter how cloudy the weather. I still am much the slave to 'wanderlust', I fear. One can only //do// so much in one's home -- 'I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair'. Hmm. But there is little that quite compares with a good home-coming."

He pauses to finish his coffee.

"If you are ever by the Institute, do stop by, Miss Kelley. It would be my pleasure to introduce you around."

Carrie lifts her mug to take a nice long sip of the drink now that it had begun to cool enough she could do so without burning her tongue. Even as she does she continues to listen in the quiet way of someone that was used to doing just that. "That's actually where I was intending on going. Once traffic dies down," she explains lifting a hand to gesture at the cars. It was beginning to thin out a bit at least. "I'm not sure if she's there right now I admit, but I thought it couldn't hurt to check. It's been awhile since I heard from her, as I said."

McCoy hops off the stool, and lands daintily on the ground beside it. Then he extends a hand toward his young companion. &quot;I would be honoured with the privilege of escorting you to your car, Miss Kelley, if you like." He smirks. "My own is parked just up the street -- that is, of course, if you're intending to head to the Institute right now. If not, then let me just say it has been a delight meeting you, and I heartily look forward to our next rendezvous, wherever that is -- what?"

The cellphone in his trousers starts buzzing and ringing with the theme music of Doctor Who. "Oh, my stars and garters -- that will be my assistant. I'm due back at the lab! My, how time flies..." he glances back at Carrie, looking positively crestfallen.

Carrie slips off of her own stool having finished off her coffee which she gathers up intending to put into the little tray meant for dirty dishes. "That would be great," she begins only to pause when his phone rings. It's all met with a good natured grin as she holds up a hand meant to dissuade any further apology. "It's okay, we've all had those moments. I'll find my own way I imagine. It was good to meet you though, Doctor McCoy, and thank you for the conversation."

END TRANSMISSION