Bump in the Knight

Cast: date: 09/03/2012
place: Knightsbridge
participants: 'Zvi, Ruth'
synopsis: 'Zvi bumps into Ruth and lives to tell the tale.'
log: "Off-Knightsbridge, London: just past 4:30 on a Sunday. For a reason not yet determined, Zvi Jacobson has decided to take the Tube at Bank rather than Aldgate. Maybe he just likes the walk? He certainly cuts an unusual figure amongst the crowds of tourists that are just now ebbing from London's Olympic summer, and seems to be frequently knocked into tonight. No one can predict which of the shop windows are likely to make him stop and stare: he's his own foot traffic hazard.\n\n Standing somewhere around 5'8\", Ruth is slender and unremarkable in form. Her skin is pale, her hair black and just long enough to be pulled back to an untidy ponytail. She appears to be somewhere in her mid-twenties, attractive enough if not for the blank-faced stare she tends to view the world with. Her typical attire covers her completely from the neck down; hoodies, long-sleeved tops, cotton gloves, jeans, and work boots, all of them generally in shades of black and grey.\n\nFor reasons equally undetermined, Ruth James is also trudging her way along the sidewalk. To say she stands out a bit would not be an understatement; she is neither a shopper nor a tourist, quite clearly. Unconsciously or not, pedestrians are giving the dark-haired (dark everything, really. Did the store carry nothing but black and grey, Ruth?) a rather wide berth, inching to the edge of the sidewalk rather than brush shoulders with her in passing. This seems to suit her just fine. Gloved hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket, hood pulled up over her head, she walks along.\n\nThe contrast between her own rather drab, concealing getup an the brightly-colored gauzy gown modeled by a mannequin in the Prada storefront window is a rather stark one. It is worth noting that she is not turning her attention towards the hazy reflection she casts in the shop windows; her attention's focused ahead, expression somewhat blank.\n\nUsually, most tourists avoid knocking into the weird Orthodox guy, but on this particular moment, Zvi gets checked enough to bump him against the window and into Ruth. Bam. Zvi's first thought is to look after the cludgy American with a baffled look on his face. No apology? His next is to notice the woman, and immediately straighten up, hands going into his suit jacket. \"Pardon me, ma'am.\" His eyes drop to the sidewalk.\n\nRuth's usually a bit quicker to avoid the press of bodies on the sidewalk — but maybe she was distracted. Lost in thought, perhaps. Nothing like being shoulder-checked by an Orthodox fellow to bring one back to the here and now. The impact's not a solid one, so the fact that she all but leaps backwards two feet might seem a bit… odd. \"Oi! Watch where you're going, you wanker!\" She's scowling after the American, so this particular insult likely wasn't meant for Zvi. When her faded eyes flit towards Zvi, they quickly track up and down while his are lowered to the pavement, in a brief, perhaps slightly uncomfortable appraisal that ends in a muttered out, \"S'alright,\"\n\nZvi bobs his head in a nod, and then says, \"You shouldn't curse. Are you alright?\" He's soft-spoken, British English accented by something smudgily Continental - eyes still on the ground. He tilts his head so he can see her reflection in the window, and his own, before straightening his suit. He looks like he could be in Prada men's, actually.\n\nRuth arches a brow at that mild admonishment, uttering a rather humorless, \"Heh,\" as she takes a measured step backwards. \"I'm well enough.\" Her own's a local accent, Londoner, north west perhaps. There's a glimmer of something odd in her reflection, the skin of her face seems to take on a greenish hue for a moment. Must be the fog. Her hands remain in her pockets, her eyes warily fixed on Zvi. She could not be in Prada anything. They might not even let her loiter outside of the store. Tipping her chin up a bit, she advises coolly, \"Ought to watch where you're goin', mate.\"\n\nZvi bobs his head again, and says, \"That is true,\" before looking at the frippery and then down at the young woman. Something about her is odd enough that he's willing to stare. \"Are you sure you're alright?\"\n\nStaring? That is, perhaps, unwise. Locals and tourists drift past, mostly avoiding bumping into the two as they stand near enough to the shop window to be out of the way, save for the odd shopping bag or two that brushes against them in brief contact.\n\nUpon closer inspection, to the eyes of a fellow Touched, Ruth is… unsettling in appearance, to say the least. Her skin's gone greenwhat's visible of it, that is, as she's covered from the neck downwith broad yellow and black stripes. Is it skin, or a carapace? Hard to tell, really. The eyes that meet his are overlarge, startlingly blue-green and compound, catching the light. She's staring back in kind, taking another measured step backwards as if made uncomfortable by the attention. \"Yes. I'm fine.\"\n\nZvi continues to stare, no matter how unwise. Is it still direct eye-contact if the woman's eyes are compound? Undoubtedly there's no ruling on that, and on the fly he seems to decide it is okay to continue to look at them. He doesn't seem to be terribly unnerved, and after a measured moment, he says, \"Are you human?\"\n\nThere's a good question — it's… sort of direct? Hard to tell what she's looking at, precisely. Probably him! Ruth's head tilts a few degrees to the left, sharply enough that the movement elicits a series of unpleasant clicking sounds. \"More're less,\" Flat, her tone is exceedingly flat. A quick turn of her head and she's surveying the sidewalk for a moment, then her attention flits back to Zvi. \"Not polite to stare.\"\n\n\"I'm very sorry,\" he says, his hands shifting in his jacket and his eyes dropping to the dress again. \"Excuse me. I should be on my way.\" Zvi shifts to walk around her, past the Prada and on the way to the tube station.\n\nRuth pulls a gloved hand free of her pocket, lifting it to rub at her nose as she twists around on her heels, providing ample space for Zvi to pass by without risking another brush of shoulders. \"Watchin' you,\" is muttered, perhaps too quietly to hear. Faded blue eyes settle on the departing man, tracking him until he's moved out of sight.\n"

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