|Short Sharp Shower|
|Location||Central Park South|
|Summary||Jeremy and Karina get rained on.|
| Deviating from the slightly more.../lonely/ feel of the northern sections of the park, the area here seems no less appealing to the eye, regardless. In the distance through the thick treelines of maple and oak, the skyline of New York can be seen looming. Smaller bodies of water than the Reservoir dot the green here, as do the bronze statues placed seemingly at random. The Shakespeare Garden, Tavern on the Green, Strawberry Fields, and the like of more popular 'hotspots' of the park flank to all sides.
It is a summer evening. The weather is warm and raining.|
It is almost a perfect summer day to enjoy the park; it is not too hot or cool, and the sun dances behind clouds and then reappears to offer sudden warmth. The crowds reflect it, with Bethesda Fountain drawing many a tourist and even some locals today. One of those locals is clad in a white, lace sundress, set off against the summer sun held in her skin and dark, wild curls, as she sits at the edge of the fountain. She is completely absorbed by the novel she has in her lap, a fingernail caught in the corner of her mouth between her teeth. Yet then, in the midst of the summer days, the sky opens up with sudden rain and the woman looks up, a surprised laugh catching before she finally jumps up and invades the closest food stand with an umbrella.
Expatriate of a corner of the Pacific Northwest too wet for umbrellas -- that is, to carry an umbrella might mark you as some kind of tourist or pansy -- Jeremy Wallace might not be too discommoded by the rain ordinarily, but the ancient notebook computer he was working on on a park bench nearby is definitely too precious a commodity to permit to be caught by the rain. First hunching over it like a vulture protecting its kill while he swears "Aw, shitbuckets!", he then flips it shut and stuffs it inside the collar of his shirt, moving quickly over the path to the vendor's line, where he stands on the verge of umbrella and not-umbrella. In his youth, all his sweatshirts had kangaroo pockets.
Karina firmly ensconces herself in the safety of the umbrella, regardless of those trying to crowd around, with a certain expectation that they will adjust to her rather than her adjusting to them. Yet, still, it's as they are all stuck together in one crowded huddle of who can fit under one umbrella for those ill-prepared that ice-blue eyes lift to find the man who is clearly not a tourist like the rest. A hint of a smile catches at the corner of her lips like a secret shared with Jeremy, there and gone in another moment as she lifts fingers to tuck a wet curl behind her ear as she waits out the summer rain.
The moment is enough to be arresting, catching the flicker of his attention beneath the high sweep of his eyebrows. She's a lot younger than he is, but it doesn't stop the eye anymore than it stops, like, Hollywood. Jeremy clears his throat as he shuffles half a pace forward into the crowding around the vendor, who's sure to take advantage of the sudden onset to do a tidy bit a business here in the wet. "Nice day if it doesn't rain," he says, and smiles, even as the water sticks his shirt damp and cold against his back. At least his dinosaur of a laptop is safe.
There is the hint of the exotic when Karina answers, the soft edges of a Russian accent that has been dulled by years in America, "You aren't a fan of sudden surprises? Or of rain?" There's a warm challenge to the words, to the way she smiles as the man takes a step closer.
"Oh, hey, I love rain," Jeremy avows immediately, laying his hand over his heart and then pressing it there more assertively to keep his computer warmed against the skin of his chest beneath his shirt. It makes a weird oblong shape beneath the shirt's collar. "I love surprises, I don't really love getting my unshielded electronics wet, but what can you do."
"Good. I like a man who loves rain and surprises," is offered with a breath of laughter in turn before Karina's gaze drops curiously to the shape of his chest, lingering there. When those blue eyes lift again, it is almost deliberately slow to meet his. "Maybe it is a sign from the heavens." A pause, a moment, before-- "To replace it, yes?"
"Aw, hell," Jeremy sighs, and rolls his eyes skyward to squint at the umbrella overhead and the heavy patter of raindrops that splat against its surface. "Cash flow could be a problem. I'm trying to open a business, not a lot of room for random personal expenditures, y'know?"
Only a corner of Karina's lips curves upwards for Jeremy's sigh, for the words that follow, perhaps even for the continuing rain around them as she murmurs, "I've never been a big fan of limiting random expenditures. But I wish you luck." And then, she does draw closer to him in the crowd, but it seems that the woman will brush past him out into the rain with a careless ease despite the color of her dress or the electronic which she was reading on.
"Businesses are like farms. You plant as much seed money as you can so that they -- you know. Fruit. That's the extent of what I know about farms--" Jeremy waves his free hand airily. He balances his weight on the pivot of his heel, not turning away, but ceding space to her with the casual shift of the habitually considerate. Brushing past him shouldn't be too hard.
Past him, as rain catches at dark curls and white fabric and slides off skin, Karina turns back around as she stills in the suddenly empty space around her, looking back to the man. "And what do you know about business?" she questions, curiously, with the warmth of before.
"A little more," Jeremy says. He smiles with the full force of optimism brilliant in his bright blue eyes. "Though of course there's some I'll have to work out as I go..."
"You'll have to tell me how it turns out, darling," Karina suggests to Jeremy, perhaps a little charmed by that smile, that bright optimism. But she starts stepping backwards, stepping away from him and his umbrella.
"That'd be way easier to do if I knew your name," Jeremy says, but the flash of his grin now is crooked-rueful. There's little about him that presses.It is left on him, the weight of the chase so expertly tipped in his direction as the only thing she gives him is, "Karina. Ask for me at The Vault." Then she turns around, striding off in the rain.