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2046-09-18 Long Lost Cousins

From X-Factor

Long Lost Cousins
Date Posted 2016/09/18
Location The Fat Greek - Mutant Town
Participants Mel, Moody
Summary Two fast talkers get lunch.
 
Moomoody.jpg
The Fat Greek is a restaurant set smack in the middle of Mutant Town, set on a lot just big enough to set up a small patio out front. The interior of the restaurant is a modern take on the traditional eateries of Mainland Greece. A large, open dining room with freshly polished hardwood flooring, clean white stucco walls and ample lighting create a cheerful and welcoming environment for customers and employees alike. Set in the direct center of the ceiling is a massive wooden chandelier, designed to look like the wheel of an oversized boat.

Three communal dinner tables have been arranged into a U in the middle of the dining space, with a raised platform for live music and other forms of entertainment. Of course there are several smaller tables and private booths set against the walls and windows for those desiring a more private eating experience.

Even though it's a relatively new establishment, it already seems to have attracted a loyal crowd of both repeat customers and those enticed by the delicious myriad of smells always pouring out onto the street.


It is a summer day. The weather is warm and fair.


"It'll be at least half an hour for a table -- are you sure you want to wait?" The hostess asks Moody, who is standing just near the door scanning the room. The restaurant's busy with a large brunch party and what looks to be some kind of celebration, from the balloons and presents piled up on the pushed-together tables. Moody's a slim woman, light brown skin, dressed fashionably in asymmetrical layers and with a pair of oversized vintage headphones looped around her neck. She looks around again and sighs, "Yeah, I'll wait -- but let me know if anything opens up sooner, really. I'm starving. Spent all morning in the 1970s and I'm famished."

There is a particularly lively, ancient looking tiny old man at this party. You know, the scrawny little bald one with round glasses and oversized clothes that almost invariable chases younger girls. This one is wearing the mandatory festive hat and throwing confetti like there's no tomorrow. Passing next to Moody as she finishes speaking, he stops, and addresses her with a voice that would fit perfectly for one of those old people you see in a saloon at Westner movies. "Spent all morning in the 1970s?! I /was there/ in the 1970s. I don't remember you.", he says. "Just done being there, came straight here once they were done.", he says, lifting his cane and pointing it jocularly at Moody. Steadying himself again by leaning forwards on the cane (something he doesn't look like he /needs/ to do, given how agile he seems despite his old age), he adds, "Ooookay, I may have taken a little detour through the 1980s. And the 1990s. And the 2000s. And... some other decades. Can't remember which. But still." he says, and raises his cane again to point it at Moody. "And don't you tell me I'm too old to remember! I'll let you know I have a perfect memory, Miss-" A short pause. "What did you say your name was, again?"

"I didn't, and you wouldn't remember me, because it's an alternate timeline," Moody laughs, though, and when she smiles her eyes crinkle. Her voice is a little unusual -- she's actually speaking very softly, but there's a necklace around her throat that seems to project her voice to a level audible in the busy restaurant. "My name's Adelle, though. It's nice to meet you, Mr. --?"

Mel says, "Call me Mr.Blanc!", a favourite faux identity of Mel, currently (unwittingly, as it is usual for him) shapeshifted into some sort of old man. Who would stop a frail but comical looking old man with a party hat from joining a large party? Probably not restaurant management. They'd think he's part of the family. And given how funny he looks and acts, the family must think he's either part of entertainment, or he's this mysterious Weird Uncle Bob nobody wants to talk about or invite at parties, who was either invited by some other family member (Aunt Mathilda, no doubt. She'd do anything to spite people), or eventually found his way here on his own. Or just someone from the /other/ branch of the family. Those people, of course, are /weird/. "Or 'Uncle Bob', if you prefer." "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Adelle!", he says, and raising his eyebrow a little, he offers a bow. "Now, if you excuse me..." He snaps his fingers, and calls over the hostess. "Miss Hostess? I've just discovered Miss Adelle is an old friend of mine! She's the daughter of Lorraine Harris! You remember Lorraine Harris? My nephew? The one with the brown hair and, you know, nose?" He says, puffing his cheeks and describing the profile of a rather large, comical nose where his one is. "We're related, so I assume she can be in on the party, and, hey! Look at me!" He says, spreading his arms and leaning back a little, cane firmly held in one hand. "I'm all skin and bones. Can't eat much. I won't be eating much, so she can just have my portion. I need someone to help me finish all that food..."

Miss Adelle, it seems, knows a con when she sees one -- her eyebrow quirks up very briefly but she quickly smiles brightly, sliding her hand around 'Mr. Blanc's arm and breezing, "Oh, goodness, it's been too long! You'll all have to help me catch up --" She seems all too at ease with sweet-talking her way into a free lunch, as it happens, and with another laugh, slides Mel a tiny wink of acknowledgement.

Mel replies with another wink of acknowledgement, and navigates his way through the crowd. "Hi Uncle Bob!", say two or three younger members of the crowd, to whom he dutifully waves back. "Hi Jack, Tim, Vanessa..." And eventually reaches a table crammed with adults. "Hey, Mindy! Look who's joined us! Adelle! Remember little Adelle? Look how she's grown!" "Hi Adelle!", says everyone around, over the noise of chattering adults and screaming children. They invariably offer a quick hand to shake and the badly concealed terrified expression of someone who's supposed to know you, but has absolutely no clue of who you are, but doesn't want to look bad by asking.

<FS3> Moody rolls Conning: Success. (6 5 2 4 8 3 1)

"Wow, you look really fantastic -- have you been working out?" Moody enthuses, settling in, all friendliness, "I mean, I'm surprised you even remember me, I was so little, but families as nice as yours, they make an impression, right? How are the kids?" There's no way that frazzled demeanor doesn't belong to a parent; it's as identifiable as a MY KID IS AN HONOR STUDENT AT PREPPY PREP bumper sticker. "Uncle Bob, you're such a smoothie."

<FS3> Mel rolls Faking It: Good Success. (6 5 6 8 6 3 7 2 6)

Mel lets out a wheezy old little laugh. "A smoothie needs fresh ingredients! I'm more like..." He pours himself a glass of red wine into a glass chalice, and raises it in a toast to Moody, withot words, and takes the chalice to his mouth. The family members in the vicinity, noticing all the clear signals of a HONOR STUDENT PREPPY MOM, engage her in quick small talk for a short time, then leave the table one after the other, making up increasingly flimsy excuses. After the last one has left, 'Uncle Bob' removes the now half-empty glass from his lips. "You're good." He finally says, turning to Moody and raising his chalice, along with his eyebrows, a bit.

"Necessity breeds competence, or it takes you out," Moody drawls easily. She hasn't been taking too much advantage, merely snacking lightly -- though from the way she easily snares morsels from the table without looking, she's got fingers that qualify as 'light'. Doesn't appear to be abusing the privilege, though, given that she's primarily sneaking souvlaki skewers and fries. "You're good, too. A little hot, maybe, but that works better when you're older, I suppose."

Mel smirks. "Oh, well, I make do with what I have. And I'm always hot. Also when I'm not older." Grins mel. And then looks away, casually picking up and nibbling on something. "What was that thing about spending the morning in the 1970s, again?" he asks, out of nowhere, as if it was a thing of no importance. "Some joke to cheer yourself up during the wait?"

"Nope. I travel through time. Can't really control it too well, but I make do. Being stuck in times where you don't belong -- especially as a black woman -- means you learn to talk fast and bluff your way through just about anything," Moody pops a fry in her mouth and smiles, "Most people don't believe me, though. You should see my photos on my social media feed. I get so many compliments on my photoshop skills."

Mel smirks. "Oh, but I /do/ believe you, miss Adelle. And I would be delighted to take a look at your social media feed photos." He goes silent for a few moments. "I'm your exact opposite in some aspects, and yet, in others so similar..." He swirls the wine in his chalice, looking at it, and then up to Moody again. "We certainly are kindred spirits. Maybe we could be useful to each other at some point in the future." He looks up and away, and seems to think for a second or two. "...Or, if what you say is true, maybe even in the past." Another pause. "How about this? When this little lunch is over, we go somewhere else together? Somewhere where I'd stick out like a sore thumb?" And then grins. "Or should I say, stick out 'like a black woman in the wrong era?'"

"Generally, I'd be up for the challenge -- but I've got a headache coming on, and that means I'm about to timehop. I'm just glad I managed to squeeze lunch in before getting pulled out. But if you want to catch up -- or you're looking for work -- you can usually get ahold of me over at X-Factor Solutions," Moody flicks her fingers a few times and tosses the virtual equivalent of a business card, with a comm number. "But the guy who runs it, Jeremy, is a friend of mine, so no talking him out of his wallet." She smiles to soften the warning, but it's there nevertheless.

Mel laughs heartily. "My dear madam, who do you think I am? I do not take wallets of hard-working people, my goodness, not at all." Of course, he says nothing of the opulent, not-quite-working people. He does the virtual equivalent of pocketing the card, and continues. "I'll make sure to contact you if I need anything. Maybe we could meet again. Who knows. Maybe I can get you to give past-me some tips." He grins. "Well, have a safe trip and try not to stick out too much. And please accept my advance congratulations for your photoshop skills in your next upload to your social media gallery."

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