Bisoux (!!!), Souady. (ex_chante681) wrote in mnhttnprjct, @ 2010-07-04 01:57:00 |
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NICK: It'd been almost a week since Nick felt comfortable going back to District 0 to get some things he'd left behind at the building he'd left behind. So, late on a Friday night, Nick found himself carrying a beat-up, old guitar and a backpack half-full of various items and wandering, almost aimlessly so, around Manhattan. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest thing to do, given recent events, but the whole week had been an exercise in doing not-smart things. He was just beginning to think about getting back to one of the safe districts before the only people left walking the streets were the cops. Speaking of which, even lost in thoughts, there was a part of Nick that remained watchful for the city's finest as it seemed lately that one couldn't walk more than a few blocks without encountering them. True to form, Nick sensed movement ahead and a furtive glance confirmed what his cop-dar had picked up on. He darted into a shadowy alleyway to wait a few minutes. Thinking quickly, he realized it would probably be a good idea to actually go somewhere in an attempt to look like a patron of something. At the same moment, he realized there was music playing nearby and decided to head off in that direction. He arrived shortly at a somewhat familiar place, The Nuyorican Poet's Cafe. After asking the doorman if Souady was working and receiving confirmation, he stepped inside. Though not really his scene, he instantly felt more relaxed and headed off toward the bar. SOUADY: And as they say in the parlance, the doorman was not shitting with the good man. Then again, it would have been hard to hide Souady’s presence even under the foggy curtain of smoke, loud conversation, and jazz; when the girl was at her bar, her shouts belted out almost as loud as if she was on stage herself, with laughter that carried just as far. It was a reasonably busy evening, too, which meant that Souady had more than her fair share of opportunities to croon to first-timers or share an inside joke with a regular as she topped off beers and mixed fruity cocktails to her customers’ content. In short: she made herself easy to find – and the usual ridiculous get-up didn’t hurt, either. Apparently, Nick’s accouterments made him equally easy to spot – either that, or Souady Nandjima didn’t forget a face, even when a room was half-dark and slightly smoggy. Whatever the reason, it didn’t take Souady long to raise up a hand and jump to make herself known; she made even shorter time in weaving past two of her fellow mixologists to get to the end of the bar closest to where her new friend would be, possibly botching a few beverages in the process. For someone who had officially met a casual acquaintance online via a weekend lock-up, she certainly looked thrilled to see him – but then again, “thrilled” was usually Souady’s default mode of operation. “Salut, Nick, salut!” In between the enthusiastic trilling and her thick accent, Souady sounded more as if she had said sahluh, Neek, sahluh, but her continued waving and clapping of hands was plenty universal enough. “What brings you to la Nuyorican tonight? La musique? Un beverage? Mais I must say, I do well at the latter, c’est truuuue.” Nick: Nick could not help smiling at Souady's infectious enthusiasm, though ten of him still would never be able match hers. He settled onto a barstool as Souady greeted him. It occurred to him, briefly, that they were kind of an odd pair, but aside from legal problems, they did both have a certain fondness for music. He recalled telling her he'd never heard jazz he liked before, but this wasn't so bad, really. It was simultaneously catchy and soothing. "Just in the neighborhood," he replied, still taking in the place. Despite having walked by it before on several occasions and seeing pictures, he'd never actually been inside. "I heard the music and I thought I'd get a drink," he added with a shrug. SOUADY: “Mais it is a good night to come, too! If you say just long enough, they say there is to be un impromptu slam session – although,” and she made sure to mock-whisper behind a hand while another of the patrons (a regular?) looked on with an incredibly dubious expression, “you never know if it is because of la beers or if they are true about what they say! Sometimes, our friends, they get false bravery de temps en temps.” Presumably, the mention of drink jogged Souady’s raison d’etre (at least, at this establishment), for a brief flicker of ‘ah, oui!’ came over her before she indulged in a brief duck underneath the counter. A minute’s worth of rattling underneath in the cabinets later and a menu was in hand. “Now, personally? You seem like a good draft kind of person, ouais? Not something with the umbrella – although I am plus good at them, it does not seem your thing. The tap, though, yes! Tell me what you are thinking et I get it up for you plus-quick!” NICK: Nick wasn't entirely sure what Souady meant when she referred to a "slam session," but it sounded interesting enough, nonetheless. Anyway, he didn't have time to dwell on that, he needed to decide what he wanted to drink -- and she had one thing right, he wasn't one for froufrou drinks. After a quick scan of the drink menu, he ordered the cheapest microbrew, popular amongst hipsters (though of course, not for that reason). "So did you get everything all sorted out from the other night?" he asked while he waited for his beer. SOUADY: “Et voila!” Said microbrew was easy enough to get off tap and into hand, which left Souady to consider Nick’s question without distraction almost as soon as it was asked. This meant she didn’t have the benefit of hiding behind a martini shaker or faking concentration as she muddled some bitters together, and although Souady Nandjima was known for her forthright attitude, you could tell she wasn’t exactly keen to answer this one immediately. Still, she leaned forward and made her move to answer, if only because guile was hardly one of her specialties. At least she had the sense to whisper when she said, “Eh, not too much. I am, how you say? Between situation. Mais I figure it out eventually.” NICK: "Thanks," Nick said and took a gulp of his beer. He immediately felt kind of bad about asking possibly a too-personal question, but he genuinely concerned. Although he had to adamant that there was probably not much he could do, being in very much the same kind of situation, or lack thereof. And though there those that say misery loves company, Nick felt very little comfort in knowing that he wasn't alone. "Yep, same with me. And I've got a fine to pay now on top of everything now, too," he lamented, definitely lacking Souady's confidence in figuring things out, even eventually. SOUADY: “Oh, la fine!” It was rare for Souady Nandjima to look disgusted but she did here, all eyes rolled to the ceiling and hands waving up. “It is la fine alone why I am taking beaucoup de shifts here, more than I am usually, et it is not even covering that too much! These people, they are silly!” Souady was already the sort that wasn’t exactly sure about how the concept of personal space translated into the Anglais, but the more serious her confidence became, the closer she crouched and the more heated her tiny finger jabbed into the countertop. “They expect us to live properly, you know, in houses like everyone else, and yet we must pay fines – what la down payment would on un apartment would be, oui? Et by then, I bet they have another one of these raids! Another!” And there, Souady’s hands were over her head and eyes rolling back up towards the ceiling even more so than the first time if it was entirely possible. “I just—listen, America, she is a sweet place. I mean this! I know that many who are like moi, they think I joke! But this is sincere! It is more beautiful than you know. But,” and Souady’s little jaw was set while her head shook slowly, the very picture of those disappointed schoolmarms of old, “logic here, she evaporates like it is August in la Tchad.” NICK: "I know," Nick said, trying to surreptitiously lean back a little, while trying not to fall off his stool. It wasn't that he totally minded having less personal space, he'd just gotten used to having a lot more of it. "It's totally ridiculous. It's like they're kicking everyone while they're already down. I don't get it either. Of course there's a lot of other things I don't get, too." Like why Souady couldn't leave the country if she wanted to, or why he had to leave California. "And yeah… I really have no idea how I'm supposed to pay for it. I mean, you need an address to get a bank account or a job…" It was extraordinarily frustrating for Nick and something he'd been going over in his head all week. If nothing else, at least venting about it a little made him feel somewhat better. SOUADY: “I was lucky that I was un peu stable when I get my account, mais some of my friends, they look into P.O. box, I think. The rent on them, not as bad as they used to be. Until then, maybe cash la check at those funny places? Ugh,” she spat out with a shrug, “they rob you, though, blind. There are un peu that are nice though, oui? I ask some of my friends, see what they say.” Another customer walked up then, enough of a regular that rather than answer hello with a wave, Souady chose to duck underneath the counter and grab a few of the tricks of the trade. Perhaps it was the meditative motion of shaking the tumbler or the fact that she was actually contributing to earning her paycheck that motivated her to ask the next question: “So, you find a job for this yet?” NICK: Nick shook his head. "No, not yet. I don't really even know what I could do, so I've just applied at a bunch of random places," he said, sighing. It was possibly a little overdramatic of him. "But I hope I can find something soon or I might have to start robbing banks or something," he added with a slightly bitter laugh. Nick hadn't meant for this to turn into such a little pity party, so he thought maybe changing the subject a little would be a good thing. "Just kidding. But yeah, that'd be cool if you could look into those places. I don't know how much I trust them, but maybe it'd be worth it. Although I don't need to worry about that right now anyway." Nick realized he was started to ramble a little and hadn't even managed to successfully change the subject as he'd intended. So, he took another long drink of his beer instead of continuing. SOUADY: “You’re quite right,” Souady said brightly, “you don’t! That is what here is for – no worries.” As if to agree, the band that had been playing rose up in a wild, ecstatic crescendo of horns and sax and the room responded with an explosion of applause. And Souady rose to match, a few whistles accompanying the claps she belted out above her head. “He is a good friend, the man who did his solo there,” she half-explained in the middle of the din, “he is well-known here for the improv. I think he would say the same, though: la café, she is here to lean back, relax, and just think about la moment de temps en temps. So you? Do the same. I get you another drink – on the house,” she made a point of saying with a grin, “and you just think about being for once, Meester Langer. It is not a bad thing, just being! The troubles, they come later. Tomorrow, even, after you sleep.” |