Van arched his back and squinted in the midmorning sunlight. He had a headache from the night before (late nights had a tendency to do that to him) and was thankful for the thick, black sunglasses he’d made sure to grab along with his favorite coat (because it made him feel all burly and lumber jack-ish) before leaving the apartment. The glasses made their way onto his face as Van made his way from his street to the nearest subway entrance. Today seemed like a good day to take a ride over to the Manhattan side, maybe to make fun of some tourists while getting lost in the crowds of Times Square. Tourists were always easy to pick out and often they were the easiest targets for silent (and many times verbal) taunts. Van was bored of Brooklyn at the moment, so maybe looking at all the strange people from out of state would rekindle some love for good ol’ Williamsburg.

Either way Van had his camera with him, safely secured around his neck by the colorful braided strap he made for it out of a handful of shoelaces and some wire, and that was reason enough to go a hunting for some newbs. Tourists=hilarious pictures, generally speaking. Hilarious was definitely something Van could use after the Epic Battle that occurred on Thursday between his father and himself. Apparently a Mr.Adamson had issues with his son’s lack of personal hygiene, the son in question retaliated with something along the lines of ‘What do you care if I’m disgusting, so long as I’m out of your hair?’. Epic Fight words ensued and soon the duo was locked in a clashing of wills broken only by opening hours of the bar. Currently father and son were positioned in a tense stalemate that was set to blow any day now. If Van was out of the house when it went off, all the better.

The subway trip seemed to last only for a moment–possibly because Van might have dozed off to the rocking of the car–before the boy with the Polaroid was out in the disgusting brightness that was a winter day in New York City. He had gotten off on one of the stops right under Broadway so when he reemerged topside he was right in the middle of things. People were infinitely interesting and today was no different, he had already spotted some likely models for his spontaneous photo shoot: a woman with a ridiculously high beehive, a pair of Japanese schoolgirl types, a man in a trucker hat and a gas station jacket–and they were all just waiting for him to sneak up on them and flash! capture that moment of their lives forever in film.

Let the games begin.

Henrietta had had a very boring morning. It seemed like everyone was busy and couldn’t hang out. She was disappointed at first, but took the opportunity to go for a nice walk. The brunette enjoyed going out where there were a bunch of people. Watching others in their daily life could be interesting. She didn’t stare or anything, just glanced here and there. New Yorkers were especially interesting to Henri. She had lived in Springfield her whole life and had never really been out of the state. Well, except for the neighboring ones. Living in a completely different area was scary, but there were so many different kinds of people.

Walking down the street, she kicked at a chunk of snow. She had her hands in her pockets due to the chill in the air. Since she had gotten to New York in November, she hadn’t had a different type of season to look around. It had all been cold. It wasn’t as if she could wait for spring in an entirely new town before adventuring around. Her curiosity was in charge when it came to the choice of wandering in the cold. Henrietta was surprised she still hadn’t received a cold or some sort of flu-bug, especially when she was exposed to so many people.

The 16-year-old girl came to a cross-walk. It had the ‘not a good time to walk because you could get hit by a car’ sign lit up. Staring at the cars as they drove passed; she let out a small sigh. Taking her MP3 player out of her pocket, she stuck the ear buds into her ears. When it turned on, “Lip Gloss” by Lil’ Mama was playing. It was expected and she began to move her feet in a small little dance. Unfortunately, the dance was short-lived. The walking person turned green. “Aw, man…” She said at a normal tone so she could here herself over the music. Looking both ways, she stepped out in the street.

Making it safely to the other side, she turned and watched as the “go” light came on for the cars. She watched them for a minute and then turned to begin walking again.

The lady with the amazing beehive was too fast for Van to catch and in the process of following her he had lost all of the original prospects. Thankfully, there were always people in Times Square–especially on a Saturday. Grey eyes scanned the street for any anomalies and then he saw her. A girl with dark brown hair bobbed her head and swayed to the music pouring from her headphones. She looked disappointed when the walking light turned on. A little weird, but nothing Van usually found super interesting or picture worthy. It’s probably a good idea to mention that this girl was really pretty. Really pretty.

At least from a distance.

For further inspection Van would have to get closer. He slipped through the crowd easily and caught a break as the girl seemed to be distracted by something back on the other side of the street. When she turned around he was in the perfect position to flash! capture her surprised reaction forever in a little picture. He was close enough to her to smell her shampoo or perfume or lotion or whatever it was that made her smell nice and it was a little disconcerting. He managed to plaster a nonchalant grin on his face as she recovered from his little camera attack.

“Thank you, you’re a lovely model.” The grin stayed on his face and Van shook the picture as he waited for it to develop. She really was lovely. Even lovelier up close than from a distance–making the boy even more grateful that he’d found her in the large crowd. “Aw, now isn’t that just the best picture you’ve ever seen?” He held out the little card so she could see her surprised and scared expression.

Turning around, a flash filled her eyes. Henrietta began to blink radidly because little dots filled her vision. She shook her head slightly and looked at the boy who had the camera. The brunette wasn't quite sure what to do. It was a little wierd and random, but he DID compliment her. The compliment made her face turn red. He held out the picture for her to see. Staring at it for a moment, she began to laugh. The image of her had a shocked and slightly scared look. It was a wierd picture, but candid.

Henri looked at the boy for a moment. He appeared to be about the same age as Henrietta and part of his head was shaved. She smiled. "That's the wierdest picture of me I've ever seen." Not counting baby pictures of course. Those were always wierd and it didn't matter who you were. "I like it." Her face still had a bit of a blush to it. He's kinda cute... Curious as to what the boy was doing, she tilted her head slightly. "Do you do ninja photographs frequently or is this new?" He seemed awfully prepared, which made her think it was a common thing for him, but she asked him all the same.

Reaching into her pocket, she took out her MP3 player and turned it off. Henrietta took out the earphones and put them and the MP3 player back. It was a little harder to hear with them on, and she was interested in what he had to say. She realized that dancing while walking down the street couldn't be as wierd as snapping pictures of random people. Or maybe it could. She may think that that was odd and he may find the random dancing odd. Either way, she wanted to talk to him and hoped he wouldn't think she was lame.

The brown haired girl’s face turned a deep red when Van called her a ‘lovely model’ and that made the boy smile appreciatively. Most of the girls that ran in the circles that Van hovered around wouldn’t have responded with something quite so adorable or sweet. In fact, most of the bleach-blondes Van knew would have replied with ‘Really? You think I could be a model!?’but he wouldn’t be able to understand their speech through the loud smacking of their gum. He didn’t understand how some of his ‘friends’ could hang out with girls like that until he realized what girls like that were good for–and then he wondered how teen pregnancy rates were going down.

Bleach-blondes and babies aside Van was in close proximity with the pretty brunette and she was responding splendidly to the random picture. Well, she smiled. Smiles were good signs. She told him that he’d just taken the weirdest picture of her that she’d ever seen and that she liked it. She liked it, she liked it. Like that cereal commercial. Before he could respond she tilted her still slightly pink face and asked him if snapping pics was a habit of his.

The smile on his face became less forced and more natural as he responded to her. “Weird is good...Most of the time. Sometimes weird is just...weird.” He laughed at his extensive vocabulary. “I’m glad you like it, ’cuz it’s how I’ll remember you.” The picture was held out so Van could get a better look at is and the boy tried to emulate the look from the picture, failed, and then laughed again. “I am a ninja master at taking sneaky pictures, it is a lifestyle choice, really.” He kept a straight face as he said this.

Feeling like he needed to say something else Van added: “So is dancing at stop lights something you do often, or has it been a recent path your life has taken?” He’d let her know he saw her while hoping she wouldn’t think him creepy. It wasn’t creepy or stalker-ish to Van, it was art and interest. A kind of weird art and fleeting interest did not a stalker-type make.

The mystery, ninja photographer said, “Weird is good...Most of the time. Sometimes weird is just...weird.” It was a little redundant, but it made sense to the girl. She understood how he meant it and couldn't come up with a better way to say it either. Sometimes redundant was best.

When he said that the candid picture was how he'd remember her, she took another glance at the picture in his hand. It was definitely not the best picture that'd ever been taken of her, but it was one that didn't make her fade into the background. It was an actual picture of her. When she looked at it, she didnt' see someone pretending to fit in. It was a great picture, but at the same time, not so much. "You want to remember me like that? With that look on my face? Are you sure?" Henri laughed, but made sure to add, "I really do like it though." And she did. You could tell by the look on her face. He attempted to look the same as the picture and failed. He laughed, which made her laugh.

The boy asked if dancing at streetlights had become a regular habit for her. The brunette felt her face get a bit red again. "It's become more and more frequent, yes." It was true. She'd been dancing in a lot of random places lately. Henrietta finally felt free enough to, which meant that it was probably going to happen. "I never felt comfortable before, and now that I'm kind of far from my hometown, I do. Unfortunately, I still get strange looks time to time. I guess I can understand that though." A slight smile came onto the girl's face. She did understand the looks, but she hated them all the same.

Realizing something, she said, "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Henrietta. A lot of people call me Henri though." She wouldn't throw in the mutant nickname or the last name yet. After all, she just met him and didn't know if he hated mutants or not. Not to mention he ambushed her with a camera. That didn't bother her really. Even if it had, she probably would've kept the feeling to herself to avoid conflict. It was just how she worked.

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s how I first met you.” He laughed and then smiled again when she said she really liked it. She laughed at his lame attempt at the look from the picture. He decided that he liked the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed and that it would be worthwhile to get a picture of the phenomenon. Maybe this girl would be a good candidate for a picture story or something? He’d done one of those once for an art class–the only classes he regularly attended school for. If he remembered correctly he’d spent weeks taking pictures of the places he went and gluing them onto the collage boards he’d prepared in class. It had been one of his favorite projects and his teacher had given him extra credit for the extra hours he spent on it outside of class. If he remembered right his mother had framed the boards and just never got around to hanging them anywhere...they were still propped up in her studio that had been quite as a tomb for almost a year.

There was that cute red color again–this time because of the dancing comment. He nodded at her words although he only really understood some of them. Apparently she’d just made a big move but whether that was from New Jersey or the moon Van couldn’t tell. Well, he knew at least that she wasn’t from Jersey, she didn’t have any accent whatsoever which would have been a mean feat. Soon her name was revealed and Van sensed it was his turn in the conversation.

“Well, it’s good New York’s made you good with yourself. I just hope you came here for the right reasons.” He wasn’t trying to sound condescending or anything, but since she hadn’t mentioned a family and she looked to be his age his mind whirled into dark directions that he’d heard about on the news about girls coming to the big city only to be eaten alive by the place they pined over. “Henri or Henrietta, eh? What about Etta? Doesn’t that part of you name count?” A grin spread across his face and it was obvious that he was kidding. “I’m Van but most people call me the Supreme Mugwump of Brooklyn.” This was said with a straight face as Van lazily snapped a picture of a passerby with an intense case of Bad Mutton Chops. He placed Henrietta’s picture safely in the pocket of his coat before removing the new one from his camera and shaking it.

He said he hoped she came for the right reason. "I think I did. At least, I don't regret it. Besides, it was my mother's idea. She...she didn't know what to do with me anymore." That was the best way Henri could think of saying it without going, "I'm a mutant and my mom thinks I'm a freak." She wasn't sure if her mom thought she was a freak, but she certainly didn't know how to handle the situation. Remembering she didn't say where she was from, she smiled. "Sorry, I'm from Springfield, Illinois."

The boy who had introduced himself as Van, asked if the "Etta" part of her name counted. She smiled. "Well, you can call me Etta if you want, I guess." Henri could tell he had been joking, so she joked back. In reality, as long as the name wasn't mean, she didn't mind what he called her. Well, that wasn't completely true. If he called her a different girl's name, she'd be sad. Her name was decently unique. Looking at him, she couldn't help thinking how cute he was. Henrietta wasn't the type to just stare at some guy, but he was cute, in the tough sort of way. Or maybe hot? Was that a better word choice? She didn't look at him and think of a puppy, so maybe it was.

She found herself hoping she looked okay, especially is he had taken a picture of her. He called himself the "Mugwump of Brooklyn". Van had a very serious look on his face when he said that. She wondered if he was kidding or if he was really called that. She doubted anyone actually told him that, especially to his face. He looked like he could beat the crap out of someone if he wanted. For all she knew, he could've been in his share of fights. The young man didn't make her nervous though. He seemed calm so far and he had been very sweet. After all, he had called her pretty.

Deciding it was best not to pry anymore Van just nodded when Etta spilled the beans about her mom not knowing how to deal with her. Sometimes it was better NOT to know something, he felt this was one of those sometimes. Her home state on the other hand he could comment on. “You’re not in Kansas anymore then, Toto.” Grey eyes scanned the dingy snow covered streets that somehow only added to the beauty of the lights of Times Square. Springfield Illinois this decidedly was not–they were standing on the streets of legend. The freaking Big Apple. The mixing pot of...Van got too poetic sometimes and had to reel his thoughts back in one at a time.

“Oh, I was planning on calling you Etta before you gave me permission.” He smirked but he was being honest seeing as it didn’t matter to him whether or not she liked being called ‘Etta’. Well, on some level it probably did, but Van was particularly good at ignoring those feelings. The look she was giving him was faraway, like she was debating something in her head. Note to Van: Ask about that later. What others were thinking was always something that had interested Van. Why had he gotten stretchy limbs instead of a useful power, like telepathy? Mutants can’t be choosers apparently.

No comment on the Harry Potter-inspired comment? A travesty, but then again maybe Etta didn’t read–yet another travesty. “Muggle.” He muttered at the girl, checking out the mutton chop picture before stowing it with its comrade in his pocket. “Well, I’m off to see the Wizard. Nice meeting you, Etta.” The girl was pretty and adorable in an innocent sort of way but he was on a mission, more time did not need to be spent chatting up the brunette from the Midwest. There were people to be followed, pictures to be taken, and damn did he need a cup of coffee. He saluted her and then turned on heel towards the nearest route to the cheapest, least tourist mongering café. As an after note he added: “Never go to a Starbucks in Manhattan, they’re crawling with those” he pointed at a camera toting man with a funny hat that read ‘I <3 NY’. “types. Tourist places are not cool. That’s the best advice I can give without more caffeine.”

He took a few steps away from her and then looked at the photograph in his pocket. “Do muggles drink coffee?” He asked in a half yell so he could be heard above the crowd. It was half an invitation at least, if she had nothing to do she could accept and if she didn’t feel like it the blow off would be simple and would easily get lost in the crowd. It was decidedly a no lose situation from the boy’s point of view.

He called her a muggle? Feeling relieved, she started laughing. "Thank God, I didn't want to laugh in case you were serious." She giggled for a couple seconds and then stopped. After the small outburst, she smiled at the young man. He must read Harry Potter too. Van then gave the girl advice to never go to Starbucks because of the tourists. He pointed at a man who was very obviously not from around here. She tilted her head slightly as the man walked by. She hoped that she didn't stick out like a sore thumb. Henrietta looked down at her clothes. No, she appeared to blend fine. Well, except maybe the random dancing. That was probably an attention grabber...

Glancing back up from her clothes. she saw him begin to walk away. She was suprised, but wasn't at the same time. The brunette imagined he most likely had something he should be doing and that this was to be a random conversation. But before he was out of sight or earshot, he yelled something. It was: "Do muggles drink coffee?" Did he just invite her along for his search of caffeine? She grinned and began to make her way to the boy.

Dodging around people, she walked up next to Van. Stopping, she looked up at him. He wasn't too much taller than her, but it was still nice to talk to a guy who wasn't shorter than her. "Yes, muggles do in fact drink coffee. We quite love it, actually." Henri hoped that it didn't seem like a lame attempt to be funny. She wasn't really trying to be funny, necessarily. It was more of an attempt to keep talking to the boy with random shaven spots on his head. The areas where hair was sparse didn't look wierd. Heni wondered how he knew that it wouldn't look odd or ridiculous. Then the thought that he didn't care occured to her. He was hot enough that he probably didn't have to care. The girl forgot that not all people are scared of what others think of them.

Invitation accepted. Etta quickly made her way across the current of the crowd to catch up with him. “Well, isn’t that just a coincidence, my people have a thing for coffee as well.” ‘His people’ had a million synonyms, most of which he’d like to keep out of the thesaurus, thank you very much. He looked down at the brunette girl and smiled his most suave smile. No one could blame him for that, she was rather pretty after all. “I know a place off Broadway that’s got some of the best coffee in Manhattan.” Yuck. Van hated Manhattan, the fact that he knew what was good there was sad but that’s what he got for tourist hunting–a limited food supply that wasn’t tainted by non-locals.

It was slower going, walking for two but as they walked Van managed to keep the duo together through the crush of Times Square walkers. A few well placed glares at the hawkers trying to sell theater tickets and soon even their annoying cries had stopped. “So how long have you been in New York?” The question was normal and safe generally and perfect if you were, say, stopped at a ‘do not cross’ crosswalk like she and he were.

People’s stories were always interesting and Van was determined to get a few pieces of Etta’s before the coffee break was over. A kid from Illinois had to have something interesting to say, right? In any case Van would have plenty more opportunities to catch the cute smile on film which was nothing to complain about either. At the stoplight another ninja photo was taken, this one of a twenty-something picking his nose while listening to his i pod. That one was definitely a keeper.

When she had gotten next to him, he gave her a smile. He has a very nice smile, she thought. Well, he's just nice looking in general. Smile and all... Walking side by side, they began their journey to the coffee place that Van had mentioned. She felt excited. Maybe they'd have a chance to talk a while. Henrietta enjoyed making conversation.

There were spots that made it hard for the two to stick together, but the young man made sure they did. Coming to a crosswalk that cars were currently driving over, they stopped. "So how long have you been in New York?" The brunette turned and looked at him. "I've been in this grand state since the beginning of November." She didn't say it in a sarcastic tone at all. So far, the girl had quite liked New York. "I've been staying at a live-in school type of thing. I've made some friends. Not tons, but some." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the sign change. The flow of cars had stopped and they walked across.

The two were still walking and Henri felt it was her turn to ask a question. "So have you lived in New York your whole life? I bet there's quite a bit to do around here." She glanced at Van and smiled shyly. Talking to guys wasn't something that occured frequently. Well, at least not guys close to her in age. Wondering exactly how close they actually were, she decided that she'd ask him at some point. The girl continued to walk next to the boy. She didn't feel as nervous as she thought she would've. It felt nice not to be anxious.

Van laughed at the brunette’s word choice. “Oh, it tis grand, tisn’t it? I think I just made up a word.” More laughter, this time at the word ‘tisn’t’. The light changed and as they walked Van continued talking. “Just wait till you see this place in spring then, Central Park gets real pretty when it’s all done up in flowers.” Boarding school? Parents actually sent their kids away to boarding schools? Weird... No comment was made in regards to friends. Van had lived in New York all his life and sure, he’d had a tone of friends at one point, but he’d lost the majority of them along the way. Now all he had was ‘friends’ and those people majorly sucked. Saying something horribly jaded and just a little bit emo didn’t make him look any cooler in this girl’s big blue eyes. It’d be better to keep his mouth shut.

They were playing question tag, it seemed, because after they made it across the street and after Van had stopped making up words Etta asked him one of her own. “I’ve pretty much lived in Brooklyn my whole life, but up until I was...” The boy struggled to remember. “Eight, I think, we traveled a lot for my mom’s art shows. So basically my whole life.” A shrug. Sometimes the famed streets of his home city got old, boring, plain. “There’s plenty to do, if you know where to look.” Van’s mouth twisted itself into a suddenly mischievous grin. Coffee anyone? “Take for example...the let’s-see-how-many-people-we-can-fit-through-a-door game.” His hand found hers and he used that hold to pull the girl behind him towards the hole in the wall café that they had arrived at. As he did this another couple was making its way through the door. Van rammed himself into the small space that was left on one side of the couple and proceeded to shove himself through, guiding Etta through the doorframe as well. The other patrons were none too pleased with his rough housing, which was to Van's liking. Even though the other couple had made it to the door first they were not the first ones in. Epic win.

“We won.” Van whispered with a chuckle into his companion’s ear before leading her to the counter. He dropped her hand when the barista took and handed him his order. Van almost paid for Etta’s coffee, but decided that’d be weird. “I’ll be over there.” He muttered, pointing with his cup to the small table by the window that was covered in candles flickering in bottles. The café was dimly lit, even in the almost afternoon sunlight and some kind of folky-rock played from the speakers scattered about.

Coming to the coffee shop, Van grinned. Uh-oh, what’s he thinking? Before she had time to consider all the possible options, he grabbed her hand. He towed her along behind him and she felt color flood to her face. While feeling embarrassed, she turned and noticed a couple almost inside the door. Van realized this and beat the two inside. It was a close call, but they made it. Henri laughed, but then noticed how angry the other people were. She tried to stop laughing, but it turned into a smirk.

Van had whispered something in her ear. It was, “We won.” Henrietta blushed a little as he let go of her hand. The young man got his drink and then pointed at the table he was going to sit at. “I’ll be over there.” The brunette nodded. Looking at her options for a beverage, she decided to just get a black coffee. Telling the woman behind the counter what she wanted, she stood patiently. It only took about a minute to get the hot liquid. Before joining Van, she paid for her coffee and grabbed some sugar packets.

Henri walked over and sat across from the ninja photographer. She glanced at his cup with curiosity. “What did you get, Van? Just plain coffee?” The girl knew it was some type of coffee, but she wondered if he drank his black or if it was flavored. Taking a second to look around, she noticed how arty everyone seemed to be. She found herself wondering what type of person she’d be called, but snapped out of it so she could listen to Van’s answer.

“Actually, I’m not sure what I got. I just picked the one with the funniest looking name–it makes me feel fancy.” Van’s pinky finger jutted out regally as he took a sip. He made a big show of tasting the sip and then set his glass back down. “I would deduce that it’s--” He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection from the window and burst out laughing at the snobbish expression of seriousness on his face. The laughter was a bit loud and very spirited and after a few gasping moments the sound decreased. Wiping his eye Van decided to ask Etta: “What about you, what’s your caffeinated beverage of choice?”

As always, the scene in this little café was very Soho, very hipster, but that’s what he liked about it. He loved the mental image of a grungy whatever-he-was sitting casually amongst all the scarves, poetry, and fashiony fashion. Or maybe he liked the idea of causing some friction in the world around him? That was probably one of the deciding factors, even if it was subconsciously. Van liked conflict, plain and simple. Well, most kinds of conflict...

“Soooo...” The boy’s pinky shot out as he took another swig of the warm sugary something. “Etta, what’s the best thing about New York so far? Besides meeting me of course.” Suavity McSuave gave her what he pictured as an enchanting smile. It was an easy opening question that would hopefully lead to some interesting places or at least make her more comfortable so that when the caffeine made him spout nonsense from his mouth she didn’t get up an leave. Van knew from experience that when his intake of sugar was spiked things got a little strange around him. He leaned back in his seat, putting his chuck-clad feet on the tiny table, careful of all the candles.