Crappy bands were...well, crappy. But beyond the crappiness lay an even worse attribute–the had a tendency of ruining a perfectly good evening. Van Sanders-Adamson’s evening had been a victim of this terrible trait. He really hadn’t even wanted to go to the show in the first place, it was one of the half-friends from school who suggested the obscure show and promised that he’d be ‘totally ripped apart’ by the ‘raw energy’ and ‘killer riffs’ of the little known band. Unable to resist such wonderful hooks, Van texted the informant back to get the location of the show. One subway train and a seven dollar cover charge later the teen was unimpressed by the pseudo punk band that was half crappy Green Day covers (how do you screw that up?) and half ear-bleeding noise. YUCK. He liked some good noise sometimes but this band had been so noisy that Van had questioned their ability to play instruments. Unable to stomach the first three songs, he left in the middle of the fourth.

Unwilling to cut his losses and go home, Van had ended up in the little Greek diner with a cup of coffee and some kind of sandwich that was both unfamiliar and ridiculously delicious (he had ordered the something-or-other of the day). Besides, it was technically a ‘school night’, not that Van attended school that day, and if his father realized he was home there’d be some words to prove that Mr.Adamson was still the parent in these parts. They were words Van had heard before and that he could live without considering he was going to ignore them anyway.

The diner was comfortably warm and although the vinyl seats were worn in places they were meticulously clean–something Van’s jeans were incredibly thankful for. The pretty girl behind the counter had long, curly hair and a smile that made his finger’s itch for the trigger of his camera. Why hadn’t he taken it with him? Then he remembered that chilling in a diner was not his original plan that night. The old Polaroid was a detriment at a show, a liability. Expecting to be rocked out of his mind he had left it at home where it was tucked safely in the painted box he kept it in. It really was turning into a terrible night. Van took a sip from the hot Styrofoam cup and looked out the large windows onto the street that would never really get dark.

How could he be bored in New York City?

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea ...

Kitska rushed down the narrow sidewalk, fists balled up so tightly that they vanished completely inside of the slightly oversized sleeves of her sweater. Why was he following her? She threw a furitive glance over her shoulder at the man about four meters behind her. Come to think of it, he'd been about four meters behind her ever since she'd gotten out of work and began her usual walk home, when she'd first noticed him. Then, after a rather intricate pattern of turns and street-crossings, she noticed him again. Panic, commence speed-walking, and start walking off in random directions. Still there. Except now, she had no idea where she was, and the street was getting emptier and emptier as she went, until it was him, her, and an old man with an umbrella.

Actually, he looked sort of familiar -- the man without the umbrella, that is. Maybe he wanted directions? No, then he would've said something much sooner. Was he mad at her? Perhaps. Had he been a customer or something? She couldn't remember.

Gaining momentum, she passed the umbrella-man and turned onto a new street. A small, mildly pathetic whine of nervousness escaped from her as she looked back again to see him still behind her. This time, they locked gazes. "Hey!" he barked. It was definitenitely not a friendly hey. Kitska bolted, now running at full speed, though she could hear him pick up his pace as well. So, maybe she couldn't beat him in a fist fight -- but a race, she was pretty confident about. Glancing up ahead, a lone lamppost stood near the window of some sort of diner.

Then again, it wouldn't hurt to make sure he didn't catch her.

Her fingers glowed dimly beneath her sleeves as she moved her fingers together hastily, and then brighter as she attempted to make it stronger, and long enough to bridge the gap between the post and the wall under the window. He was catching up to her, now only five feet behind, shouting something incomprehensible at her. With a new burst of speed, she passed the designated spot, managing to attatch the string as she did. The man didn't have time to react to the glowing cord, catching his ankle on it and promptly crashing into the sidewalk, though not without another considerably angry-sounding bellow.

With a little squeak of fear, she slipped into the door of the diner, dashed towards a nearby booth, and slouched down so far in the vinyl seat that she practically vanished. Only when the passing figure of the man darted past the window did she re-emerge, only to find herself face-to-face with a rather exhausted-looking man in a suit eating what looked to be Greek food. He stared at her with the blankly astonished look of the sleep-deprived, mid-chew, and her face blushed crimson as she slipped out of the booth and found a spot a seat down from a teenaged boy at the counter. The curly-haired girl swept in to take her order and she responded by apologetically mumbling something about chocolate milk before promptly hiding her face in her hands. As bad as she felt for bursting in, she'd much rather be here for a while than take the risk of finding herself stuck in yet another terrifying and completely nonsensical situation.

Why did she ever decide to move here, again?

Speaking of things not truly getting dark on a New York City street...What was the funny light weaving it’s way through the night? And more importantly, why had a man just tripped over it? Hmm...curious. Very curious. Van’s mind didn’t have a very long time to process the events unfolding outside the window because a tall-ish, skinny girl with brown hair suddenly burst through the door of the diner and shot down into one of the booths so fast that the boy wasn’t sure if he’d seen her at all. Glancing at the other occupant of that particular booth Van smirked because either the girl had totally just done that or Mr.Suit was short-circuiting. Either prospect would prove to be interesting and a possible distraction from his mundane cup of coffee and the delicious whatever-it-was.

After a moment a brown haired head reappeared in the booth, blushed, and then bobbed it’s way over to the counter. It took a seat next to Van, ordered a chocolate milk from Cute-Curly-Counter Girl, and then fell into it’s hands. The girl next to him was obviously freaking out and/or in some kind of trouble. Things just got curiouser and curioser. What was that about being bored? When the curly haired waitress came back with the girl’s chocolate milk she refilled Van’s half empty cup. Taking a sip of the now pipping hot liquid he decided that it was about the time where he should say something to the strange girl. Another sip was taken so that Van could find something to say. Usually he was bursting with witty (in his mind) comments but this situation didn’t really call for a one-liner. Or did it?

“So I think you made Mr.Tacky-Tie over there blow a fuse. I don’t think he’s moved since you invaded his booth.” Normally Van’s tone was confident, casual, chill, but he said this attempt at a joke in a slightly hesitant tone, hoping that it wouldn’t set the girl off. The man really hadn’t moved, except to blink. He just sat in his booth looking confused and ridiculously out of sorts. Was it really possible to blow a fuse? Van hoped he’d never be so wired into anything that a deviation off of pattern would cause him to go catatonic like the man with the ugly purple tie. Depending on who you asked, Van’s life was destined for far more pattern than that enjoyed by the suited man. Half his teachers and a few of his ‘friends’ were sure that he was meant for jail or prison–a fact that Van only disputed sometimes. He really needed to fix something in his life.

Now, what was wrong with the girl’s?

Dahh!

Kitska squeezed her eyes shut, face still obscured by her hands. Scaryscaryscary. Too scary. She peeked between her fingers at the flecked surface of the counter. What she needed to do was calm down. She also needed to figure out why it was that that guy was following her. And, she needed to figure ou-- "Here you go!"

A small cup of chocolate milk appeared in her momentarily very limited field of vision. "Thank you," she spoke at a half-whisper, still a bit shaken, but finally dropped her hands, still gazing into the creamy, sweetened depths of her drink. Unwrapping the straw that she found beside it, the white wrapping pulled away to reveal a bendy straw -- definitely something to be pleased about. A flicker of a smile, however childish it might've been, flashed across her features as she plopped it in the milk and gingerly took a sip. Exhale. Better.

>> "So I think you made Mr.Tacky-Tie over there blow a fuse ..."

Her gaze, which had still been glued rather anti-socially to the inanimate objects before her, quickly shifted upward to find the face of the speaker with a look of what was proving to be a trademark wide-eyed look of surprise, though milder this time. It was fleeting, quickly replaced by a curious expression as he finished his sentence and she glanced behind him over at the suit man. Yep, he was still there! Actually, he literally hadn't moved an inch. She winced. She really hadn't meant to scare him!

Turning back to the boy sitting beside her, she smiled sheepishly. "Uh-oh. I hope he'll recover soon ... ?" Kitska couldn't suppress a small, soft chuckle despite her slowly fading feeling of dishevelment. "I guess I did kind of burst in here."

There was no doubt that the girl next to him was freaked out about something. She almost didn’t make any noise when she received her milk–he could barely hear the soft ‘Thank you.’ she uttered. The girl looked up when he spoke to her and the look on her face reminded him of a doe caught in headlights...not that he’d ever actually seen a doe caught in headlights anywhere but on Television or a movie. It wasn’t as if deer frolicked freely in Central Park or Bambi lived in Brooklyn. For whatever reason the image of a Bambi character from Brooklyn struck Van as ridiculously funny but he fought with all his might to keep the laughter in his head and to keep his expression neutral. Doe-Eyes would get more freaked out by a stranger randomly bursting with laughter. That or she’d start laughing too, proving that she was unstable. Van didn’t really need to know if the girl with the large, brown eyes was unstable or not–it was a little tidbit his night would survive without.

The deer look passed and was replaced by something Van identified as curiosity before she looked away at the man with the ugly purple tie. A hesitant smile was on her lips when her focused returned to the boy and she was obviously worried about the man’s state of being. A laughed escaped after this before she admitted to barging into the restaurant rather suddenly. To this, Van returned the smile and the laughter.

“Aw, he’ll be fine. A little excitement is good for the mind every once in a while. It seems to me like Mr.Suit was overdue.” Waaay overdue. It took a piece of whatever-it-was in his hands falling onto the accursed tie to break whatever spell the girl’s appearance had put on him. Why did Van hate that tie so much? He began eating just as studiously as before after he wiped the mess of the silk. “You looked like you were in a bit of a hurry.” The boy glanced at the girl out of the corner of his eyeliner-rimmed eye. “You okay?” He had to ask the question sooner or later, lest he worry about it. Besides, on some level he supposed if he was in trouble he’d want someone to check on him–not that anyone he knew did that often. Maybe Doe Girl felt the same? If not it wouldn’t be that hard to blow him off–the counter was pretty much empty besides the two of them and there were plenty of booths open.

"Aww," she frowned playfully at the stranger sitting beside her, now feeling quite a bit more at ease in the enclosed warmth of the diner. "But still!" Odd choice in neckwear and what seemed to be a near-state of exhaustion aside, the man sitting in the booth seemed to be a decently respectable fellow -- even though in a flash he had managed to dump a portion of his meal onto himself. (On the bright side, at least he'd made a full recovery from the interruption of her barging in on his dinner!) After all, she found it pretty easy to identify with a surprise sending someone out of sorts, seeing as that was the exact state she'd been in upon walking -- erm, dashing, really -- through the door. Satisfied that the man was all right after all, she turned back to her chocolate milk again, poking semi-awkwardly at the straw protruding from it.

She nodded when he mentioned the strange entrance she'd made, and had a feeling she knew the sort of question that would be coming up next. Not that she minded answering, really, but that she wasn't sure if she could answer properly -- she'd never really been good about talking about her problems for some reason. It's nice, though. Very nice, she admitted to herself as the he asked, rather hesitantly, and in a barely noticable movement she'd nodded her head in determination. It was time for her to be braver, though perhaps it was a bit pathetic that her version of braver was talking to someone about something as opposed to ... who knows, facing an evil army or rescuing people? (Come to think of it, maybe she'd been watching too many American movies lately.)

" ... Yes." The first word of her reply, and it already sounded uncertain and barely audible. She forced herself to make an attempt at her normal tone. Just say it, and then you won't have to worry about it anymore. Right? Right.

"It's just that ... I don't know, things have been strange ever since I've come here. A man started following me when I left the bakery earlier, and he was chasing me, and so ... I ran in here." Her gaze stayed a bit solemnly on the countertop before flicking up to meet the boy's gray eyes. A small smile broke through the momentary sadness as she jokingly added, "Maybe I just don't have the 'street smarts' to make it here yet." That's what Sam and Delia at work were always telling her. Maybe they were right. But what did "street smarts" even really mean, anyways? And how was she ever supposed to get a hold of some?

The girl’s 'yes' wasn’t a very convincing one meaning that either she was in fact not okay or she wasn’t sure of her state of being. Van had nights like that and he could relate to the hesitation, so he simply waited for her to elaborate or give him a reason to put some faith in her ‘yes’. If she didn’t press on he’d probably let the issue drop...maybe, she had looked freaked out when she burst into the deli after all. That warranted some kind of explanation, right?

Van got what he was waiting for when Doe-Eyes shared her very scary story. At first the boy didn’t know how to respond. What was there to say to that? “Running in here was a good idea...” Trailing off awkwardly the boy tried to find something else to say. Something comforting or funny. Comforting was not up his alley, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d tried to comfort someone. “It’s not street smarts you need, it’s a can of bear mace.” Van’s smile was only slightly forced with his half-joke.

The boy with the choppy dark hair liked to think he had street smarts. He knew why types not to mess with and what streets weren’t good after five...Then again, it didn’t seem like Doe-Eyes wasn’t from New York, hence her saying ‘ever since I’ve come here’. Van grew up (mostly) immersed in everything that made big city life what it was. “Street smarts come eventually.” Maybe that was comforting? Although it kinda had an undertone of ‘if you make it long enough to get street smarts, that is’ that was totally unintended. It occurred to Van that he could ask the girl if she had far to go to get wherever she was going, home probably, but he didn’t want to come of as creepy–the last thing someone who’d just been chased for how long needed from a stranger.

The waitress behind the counter hummed absently to the tune on the radio as she cleaned the coffee machine. Sad, no more refills.

A small laugh replaced the apprehensive look on her face with a bashful smile. "You're probably right." Kitska looked up at boy sitting beside her. He had a haphazard sort of appearance, his clothes worn and pinned in some places, and his hair a bit ruffled and unevenly cut. Decidedly, though, he was nice -- because, very often a look of confused concentration crossed his features, like he was struggling to find something to say.

>>"Streets smarts come eventually."

The sentence was immediately followed up with that same look. She raised an eyebrow minutely, giving him an amused glance, though she nodded before being distracted by the woman behind the counter cleaning the coffee maker. She cocked her head. How late was it getting?

Before she had time to find a clock, a distant thud sounded from outside the window. Several choice curses were audible, though muffled, through the dusty glass, as a hoodie-clad runner picked himself up off of the ground. Kitska craned her neck for a moment to see what he had tripped on until a familiar effervescent light reached her eyes. "Oh!" Covering her mouth, she shot back down into her seat. The light thread she'd woven had been a success in stopping the man from before, but she'd forgotten to cut it -- now, it was targeting unsuspecting passerby.

Oh, man ...

She really ought to unravel it, before somebody got hurt, or worse, realized that it was the work of a "mutant," as it seems they called them around here, though she was still a bit scared to go out into the streets alone. Glancing at the boy beside her, she took a thoughtful sip of her chocolate milk, now gone room-temperature. Okay. She could ask him if he'd go with her, just for a bit, until she could get on a main street, but then he would see her sever the thread, which certainly didn't look like a normal thread, since it was, well, glowing, and all. He didn't seem like the type of person who would treat her cruelly because she was a ... different, but he already seemed a bit uncomfortable and that would likely make it worse. Maybe she could do it when he wasn't looking? Would it even be okay to ask him to walk with her? Was that a strange thing to do? She didn't even know what was strange anymore.

Kitska stood up, a little abruptly, as a small group of people began approaching the trap. "Listen, I'm not sure if ... " They got closer, until at the last minute they turned to cross the street. She gave a mental sigh of relief. "I mean, I don't know if it's really an appropriate thing to ask, and I understand if you don't want to, since I we don't know each other or anything but it's kind of scary out there, and I'm a little lost, so ..." She paused, attempting to slow herself down from her anxous, small-voiced rant. "Would it be all right if I asked you to walk with me for a bit? Just until I get to a more familiar street ... ?"

Oops ... So much for trying to keep calm. Hopefully it didn't seem too odd!

It seemed that cleaning a coffee machine had a mesmerizing effect because he caught Doe-Eyes watching Curly-Q as well. The trance of the grounds being dumped was broken by a loud ‘thump’ that obviously came from outside that was followed by some words that Van was very familiar with. When he turned to look so did the girl. The image of the hoodie-kid seemed to stir a greater reaction in the girl than it did in the boy, who was a bit confused as to why. With a squeaky ‘Oh!’ the brunette seemed to catch herself and she swiftly sat normally again on the stool. Taking one last look out the window, there was that funny light again, Van turned to look at the still unnamed girl. He had a classic quizzical look on his face–complete with raised eyebrow and pursed lips and when he went to look at her he turned the stool slowly.

Her brain seemed to be darting about in her head so Van resisted his natural urge to ask: “What the heck is up with you, kid!?”. Instead he just sat on his stool and waited for her to process whatever she needed to process. Man, his patience was getting a work out so far that night. Doe-Eyes jumped at the sight of people on the street and Van wondered if she was just paranoid after her little chase scene from earlier that night. It was after all very probable. The boy was sure he’d be upset if some creepy person was chasing him about. Although, Van had found stretchy limbs to be the perfect tools for escape considering how useful long arms were for climbing onto fire escapes.

It seemed like his conjecture was at least close to the truth because after the group of people walked farther down the street the thin slip of a girl asked him if he’d accompany her so as to protect her from the boogeymen that plagued the streets (at least that's what Van got out of her question).It’s not creepy if she asks me first. Besides...what if I say no and she asks some psycho axe-murderer or something? Not that she couldn’t be a psycho axe-murderer. Grey eyes peered at the girl. I’m gonna doubt she’s concealing an axe on her person. Van decided, standing up as well. “Sure, I could do that. No worries. It’ll make me feel like a Power Ranger.” He tried to smile at the girl reassuringly before picking up his red plaid lumberjack jacket that had been draped over the stool next to him. Van took the initiative and led the march to the door, ever vigilant for the inevitable Putti. He opened the door for the girl with a flourish ruined by his smirk and waited for her to exit the deli as the tiny bell chimed. A teenager with attitude he certainly way. "It's morphin' time." Found it's way out of the boy's lips.

Relieved, she shot a grateful smile at the boy. Power Rangers ... Being Norwegian had never given her much of an advantage as far as American cultural references went, but this was one she actually understood. What color one would he be? Kitska considered this as she stepped out the door in a half-hearted attempt to distract herself from worrying over the glowing thread just down the street. "Thanks." She giggled, as he informed her that it was "morphin' time," and she noticed for the first time the bright red jacket he had clutched in one hand. Maybe the Red Ranger, then?

This time, she took the lead, taking a few strides down the empty sidewalk as she fidgeted with the slightly oversized sleeves of her sweater tunic. She glanced up at the boy again -- he was quite tall, actually -- with a look that was half-apprehensive, and half-curious before turning her attention back to the street, where the thread was beginning to come into view only a few feet away. Subconciously biting her lip in thought, she stared down the strand in a few seconds of silence. Maybe it would be a good thing to try it, just to see if it really was different in this city. It seemed like a pretty reasonable thought -- after all, he might not even notice anyways.

She opened her mouth to speak, and a quizzical expression flashed across her face. Oh, right. It didn't really make it any easier to explain. Kitksa recomposed herself in the blink of an eye, though the ghost a confused look still remained. "Sorry, one second."

Crouching down in front of the light as if to tie her shoe, she reached out and twisted the strand between her fingertips, moving with uncharacteristically confident precision. Very few things came naturally for her lately, but this still remained something she could count on. The thread began to unravel into thinner, and visibly less solid pieces, and she held out a hand to catch them as they disappeared into her palm and fingers with a soft glow where they had entered.

Standing up, her hands, with skin different, more luminous than before, vanished halfway under her sleeves again. She looked at the Red Ranger boy and offered a genuine smile, though with a noticable hint of uncertainty. "So! Ah ... The main street's this way, right?"

Doe-Eyes took the lead once the got out of the deli. Van appreciated the giggle and the thanks for holding the door for him. Giggling girls were a wonderful thing and for the millionth time that night Van wished he had his camera so he could capture some of the moments. Things got a little weird once they left the bright interior of the eatery. Doe-Eyes seemed confused about something. She gave him a weird look before turning to look down the street again. Huh? What was the story there? Then she looked like she was going to say something but didn’t. Then she bent down to tie her shoe.

Van was very confused.

And there was that funny light again.

Maybe he was going crazy? That would explain a lot of things. Like, for example the fact that he was seeing strange lights everywhere. Well, strange light, singular. It would also explain why he thought her behavior seemed weird. The brunette seemed like a normal person and her behavior made him wonder if otherwise was true.

In any case, soon the brunette was standing again, pulling Van from his musings about his sanity. The boy stared at her hands for a moment before he answered her question. Do they...are they brighter than before? Does that have anything to do with the funny lights? Her smile was a nice one, even if she still looked a bit meek, so Van decided not to confront her on it, yet, there’d be time for that once he got more concrete evidence. “Actually, the main drag’s down this way.” He motioned in the opposite direction she’d suggested. “Shall we?” He asked, turning in towards the proper street and setting off.

He turned behind him after he went a few confident steps because he realized something. “Where are we going exactly?” That was a funny little tidbit to miss and a very crucial one. Van could navigate the streets of his home city with relative ease, but he’d need a heading or they’d end up somewhere he wanted to go, which was the opposite of the intent of their little mission.

His features, suddenly rearranged into a look of bewilderment; Kitska peered up at him, eyebrows raised, though a faint bit of worry made its way onto her face. Did he see? She followed his gaze down to her hands, and she pulled her sleeves farther over them, suddenly a bit self-conscious. Maybe not, but she wasn't sure if it was a good thing to bring up right now.

What a confusing thing! She'd never been truly ashamed of her differences -- no, it was just the things that they had brought about in the past that she was unhappy with. Of course, then again, it wasn't that that started it all, anyways. No, but sometimes people knowing about it brought harm, and she didn't want to risk getting hurt.

Her new traveling companion motioned towards the opposite street to the way she'd been pointing, and she was drawn out of her reverie as she responded with a small, sheepish laugh. "Sorry, I still don't know much about this city yet," she added, as she took a few steps to catch up to him before he turned around rather abruptly, though she managed to stop before she bumped into him.

>> "Where are we going, exactly?"

"Oh!" That. Right. Another bashful smile made its way onto her lips as she pulled out a lightly crinkled slip of paper dotted with streetnames written in a delicate scrawl. Trotting forward a few steps to peek at the street sign, feeling considerably more at ease now that all traces of her early evening scare were gone, before staring calculatingly down at the paper. Some people would say to bring a map, but this method had served her pretty well in the past. Plus, to her joy, the chipped street names looked somewhat familiar.

"I just need to get to Yorkville, so ... " Another thoughtful stare interrupted her before she looked back up with some excitement. She'd got it! Maybe she wasn't a goner in this town just yet. "2nd Avenue! ... If that's okay," she added, with an apologetic grin. "I think I can find my way home from there." Setting off in the new direction he'd pointed out, she looked up at him again.

"Thank you, for doing this, by the way! I'm sorry, I'm sure you would have better things to do." A bit of her accent had peeked through as she rushed through her sentence, suddenly feeling a little guilty. She really did mean it; she hoped he was okay with being stuck with her, and all of her worrying nonsense. A though struck her. "Ah! I'm Kitska, by the way. I think I forgot to mention it ..." She joked, with a small laugh.

2nd Avenue, hmm? Van could get the girl to 2nd Avenue in the direction he had started out in. He was glad that she knew where she needed to go and that she wasn’t some half tourist kitten mewing pitifully for him to take her to ‘the building with the green door’ or something like that. Van really wouldn’t have had the patience for a wild goose chase that night, not after the sorry excuse of music he’d endured earlier. Now that he had a heading he’d steer Doe-Eyes in the right direction without wanting to leave her mewing in a box somewhere–that just wasn’t very humane.

He shrugged off her apology, it made him feel uncomfortable. “No worries. I was probably going to spend the rest of my night in that diner anyway, at least now I’ll get some exercise, right?” Not that Van really needed it, considering he did quite a lot of late night walks like these. Although, most of those were not done on the ground floor of New York City considering that there was a certain heightened thrill using his powers to travel across the rooftops of the big apple. “Nice to meet you, Kitska, I’m Van. I think we both forgot to mention it.” There was a laugh there to echo hers. He didn’t hold out his hand or do any of the stuff that society told him he was 'supposed' to do when meeting someone new. He simply kept walking at his leisurely pace with a comfortable smile on his face.

“So did I notice an accent a second ago, or was it just street noise?” Van had been told by some that he had an accent. The boy in question believed this was a lie until someone recorded him yelling at one of his ‘friends’ after a show. His Brooklyn accent wasn’t heavy all the time but when he got agitated it was hard to brush it off. As he walked he wondered to himself what kind of accent she had. He wasn’t sure if he’d heard something similar before or not. Taking another peek at the girl, Kitska, He guess that it was some kind of European speech pattern.

At this point they were (along with about four other people) standing at a crosswalk waiting for the late night cabs to move along so that they themselves could be on their merry way. There was a man standing next to the street lamp with the longest bear Van had ever seen live and his fingers itched for the trigger of his camera. Stupid show.