A walk to the bookstore? An excellent idea. Lenna gave a slight nod. "Okay."

The man extended a hand and introduced himself. "Lenna," she met the handshake with her hand. She didn't give him a last name. It was easier that way. The handshake ended. She looked over her shoulder, searching for the best direction to head.

They could cross the street and head a few blocks down. There was a good bookstore there. There was another one slightly nearer, but that wasn't much of a walk. Or... it was kind of getting later in the evening.

"We could always explore the city to find something else?" She suggested, turning back to him casually.

>> "We could always explore the city to find something else?"

Jorge shrugged with a nod as he looked back over to her. She was right, the city was rather large, they just escaped a horrible movie, why not celebrate said freedom with some aimless exploring? After all, what was the worst that could happen? He could arrest anyone who dared to threaten him. That was a perk of being a police officer after all, the ability to throw anyone would be criminals into the slammer if they attempted to bother him on one of his few nights off.

“Why not?” he asked with a hint of enthusiasm. “New York is a big place and perfect for exploring.”

With an air of adventure on his face, he began to head down the sidewalk with his new found friend Lenna and simply admired the city around him. The so far in New York his experiences have mainly consisted of work and teenager mutant breaking and entering into his house to steal food. His time here was becoming suspiciously like his life in Florida where every day simply consisted of work, work, work. At least he made a conscious effort this time to try and make an acquaintance.

Amidst the towering dark buildings of the coming evening, Jorge breathed in the night air before he glanced again at Lenna. Before he knew it, he could not help the smirk that appeared on his face as he lightly chuckled.

“Rhinestone Odyssey. They’ll make anything these days…” he continued his mirthful chuckle which was aimed more at himself than Lenna. He needed a good laugh after that experience in the theater. The universe owed it to him.

He consented. Exploring, it was. Lenna fell in line beside him, on the sidewalk.

As she walked, she scanned, like a hawk over the wilds below. She was searching for something. She wasn't sure what, yet. A good clothing deal, a book store, a gun shop. Okay. Maybe not a gun shop, but perhaps something cooler than a gun shop? Old West memorabilia? Ten gallon hats that didn't literally hold ten gallons? Spurs, six-shooters, and vests? Chaps? Or maybe, they'd just find a good food restaurant and eat.

It had been quiet for a while, the two of them lost in internal monologue. The man broke the silence with a chuckle and a comment.

>>“Rhinestone Odyssey. They’ll make anything these days…”

"Mhm," She agreed, through pressed lips. "We're lucky they didn't try packaging it with love or sex. Could have been a Brokeback Rhinestone mountain of failure. Speaking of failures," She paused her walk, and pointed to the contents of a nearby streetside store's window. Inside, a mannequin was wearing the glitz and glam of a rhinestone cowboy. The spotless white hat, pants, and shirt. She shook her head. "Glen Campbell called. He wants his wardrobe back."

>> "Mhm,..We're lucky they didn't try packaging it with love or sex. Could have been a Brokeback Rhinestone mountain of failure. Speaking of failures… Glen Campbell called. He wants his wardrobe back."

Jorge paused in his walk with Lenna and all he could do was stare that that rhinestone cowboy hat in the window. It was like the whole experience was haunting him! That movie was terrible and yet here he was, being constantly reminded of it. That was not right, nor was that fair at all. The one time he decides to try and go out for fun and this is his experience…a movie about a Rhinestone hat! But…as the detective ranted in his mind about what had happened the only thing he do…was laugh. He stared at that ridiculous hat that sparkled in a riot of blues, purples, greens and whites seriously, all the man could do was laugh.

He chuckled as he looked to Lenna who probably though the man was insane now, but he smiled good naturedly in return.

He cleared his throat and put on his best western accent as he started to sing in a low voice:

“Like a rhinestone cowboy
Riding out on a horse in a star-spangled rodeo
Like a rhinestone cowboy…”

People passed and heard him low singing as he stood near the window displaying the rhinestone cowboy hat. Many chuckled, others gave him a wary eye, and still others looked as if they wanted to call the police on the man for public drunkenness, which of course he was not drunk. Instead he simply chuckled as he stopped and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and stared at the hat in the window. The whole thing so was absolutely ridiculous that it would have to be a story to tell from now on. He went to watch a movie about a hat…and proceeded to sneak out of the theater with a fellow contemporary movie hater. Life was funny like that.

Finally the detective just shook his head as he spoke to Lenna, but kept staring at the hat in the window. “I could use a drink of…anything, to get that song out of my head.”

She supposed it was funny, somehow, how the hat had turned up, like a distant cousin at a funeral, hoping for a cut of the inheritance. Wait. Bad metaphor. It was more like a ghost haunting a home, and the people that had killed him dead.

Lenna chuckled at the thought. It wasn't really insane, laughing at a cowboy hat. She didn't laugh quite as hard as the guy, either. It was funny. So was that other image, of the ghost haunting people. That one was hilarious. And so was him singing. Lenna laughed a bit harder at that, holding her gut as she doubled over a little.

"Yup," Lenna said, in-between laughs. "That is the song."

She calmed herself, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. Yeah. That had been a good laugh. Now, it was time to put on the mask of seriousness again. The man thought he could use a drink. Lenna looked at him, and asked with all the importance she could. "Rum... or Scotch?"

“"Rum... or Scotch?"

Jorge was still chuckling a bit after his little performance and took a second to realize just how embarrassing that was. But in all honesty he really didn’t care right now. They had just survived one of the most terrifying movies he had ever see and he was looking forward to a little “happy-to-be-alive” time. Not that it was that much of an ordeal, he was grossly over exaggerating the situation, but this had surprising turned out to be a pretty fun night for him so far. Not bad for a grizzly, police detective shut-in who still owned a VCR.

Finally he brought himself out of his stupor, amid the dying chuckles of his companion and thought deeply for a moment. That really was a hard question to answer…

“Normally I’m a scotch man, but I haven’t had a good rum since I moved from Miami.” he said with a no. “If you know a good place, first round is on me.” he said with a nod.

The words almost seemed alien for Jorge because this normally was not like him. He stayed home, read his books, and listened to cassettes, but something about this night felt different. He was more open to exploring his new home and he was thankful to have a friendly face there that was not a fellow police officer. Though he knew little to nothing about this Lenna woman, he was glad he found at least someone resembling a comrade. After all, they did escape “Rhinestone Odyssey” together, that at least awarded them some sort of making through the trenches together.

And that warranted buying at least one drink.

"I know just the place." And luckily, it was near where they were. She glanced down the sidewalk, in the right direction, then jerked her head that way. "Follow me."

It was a little place Lenna led the man towards, not a huge night club. Nothing major. A nice bar, with good liquor. A good selection for whatever the man wanted, be it rum or scotch. Clean counters, bright lighting, clean-shaven bartender. The man looked to be in his thirties. Younger than her date. Her not-date. He acted like he thought they were on a date, though. Smiled real big when the two of them walked in. Together.

"What'll you two have?" He asked, as Lenna slid onto a bar stool at the main counter. Dumb grins a-plenty.

"Captain's." She went with the usual. "For him, too." Lenna jerked a thumb Jorge's way. "I'm buying." She said with all the confidence and swagger in the world.

There was a plan and by all rights, it was a great plan. After that incident with “Rhinestone Odyssey”, a drink sounded like the best thing right now. It was not that Jorge was normally the time to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a glass of spirits, the truth was that the detective was not one to normally drink a lot. He was casual when it came to consuming alcohol and normally it was only done either in a social setting or in an attempt to take the edge of a pretty traumatic experience. Apparently his going to grab a drink with Lenna was a little of both.

She said to follow and he did. The pair pounded the pavement under the sidewalk with a mission in mind. To Jorge’s surprise, the bar was not far from their current location. They had managed to leave behind all the eccentric movie goers, the wannabes, the film students and stepped out into what seemed like a normal part of town. It was there that their saving grace was located.

It was very simple, just a small, hole-in-the-wall bar that in no way appeared garish or attention getting. It was probably one of those places that had been here since the founding of New York, or something, a bar that has been in the family or passed down from person to person over their years. To be honest Jorge didn’t know what it’s history was, but the fact that it was alone, quiet and in no way attracted the riff-raff from Tribecca, was enough to win him over.

>> “"Captain's…For him, too…I'm buying.”[/i]

He smirked as he heard her announcement. “I’ll drink to that,” he chuckled as he followed her to the bar. “Next round is on me, though.”

She had a fire about her that he had to respect. She was younger but she possessed a confidence that could probably take down a mountain rock by rock, if she wanted to. That made her intriguing but it also made her dangerous. He admitted that freely. Thankfully this was not some date, as he was sure the bartender thought, just two acquaintances having a drink.

He slid onto a barstool, awaiting the first round. Eyes roaming over the entire scene around him, taking in the different types of alcohol the bar served as well as whatever memorabilia might be might by tacked up onto the walls. He eyed photos, glanced at knick-knacks and attempted to read several bottle labels, before he finally turned to look over at Lenna once more.

“This is a nice place.” he said as he looked about. “Sort of reminds me of a place I used to go to back in Miami.”

>>“Next round is on me, though.”

"Fine, fine." Lenna feigned reluctancy as she assented to his offer of free liquor. It was an offer she could not refuse. The reluctant look morphed into a smirk. "I'll make sure to pick something expensive."

The smirk slid into a calm smile as he started sharing. "Miami, huh?" She looked around. She'd never been to Miami. Japan, yes. Miami, no. "What's it like. I've never been." Probably hot like Columbia, with plenty o tropical trees.

>> "Fine, fine…I'll make sure to pick something expensive." [/i]

Jorge chuckled and nodded his head in agreement. He had a sneaking suspicion that this woman would be able to drink him under the table. It was not that he did not expect a woman to be like that, he was not sexist in that way. He fully believed that getting drunk was definitely a co-ed thing, not man exclusive. But what he did like to know before had was whether or not he would have to haul the woman in for public intoxication.

He doubted it would come to that though. As he thought, he was sure she could definitely hold her liquor. That made his evening all the easier.

So after he slid into his seat and commented on how familiar the place seemed, his thoughts did drift to Miami for a second. He remembered the familiar bar, the place he went after work, when the day was just too tough for him to handle completely. Jorge, by no means, was an excessive drinker, so when he did it was only for the best of reasons like trying to take the edge off a day, or attempting to forget something that he really did not want to remember. Those days were rare…and yet frequent enough for the bartender to know his name.

The woman’s voice then cut into his musings again and he turned, sitting at the bar and listened...

>> "Miami, huh? What's it like. I've never been."

“You should,” he said honestly. “Everyone should, at least once.” there was a reminiscing smile upon his face.

Though he had been living in New York for a month or so now still missed his home in Miami terribly. Never had he so been the victim of a homesickness. It was not that New York was a horrible place, he was adapting pretty well it was simply that it…smelled different. There was a distinctive scent in Miami that he missed, that was lacking in the architecture of New York and was quickly disappearing from all the stuff he brought with him.

Another glance to Lenna and he grinned slightly, thinking back.

“It’s hot…but it’s nice,” he said with a nod. “During the summer…there is this…scent in the air. The waves are always lapping up on to the beaches, crashing against the rocks or being driven in by the ocean winds and because of that, all the buildings, the architecture, everything has this warm…refreshing smell to it. It is like an eternal paradise is trapped in every scent molecule.” he nodded when the bartender finally brought them their rum. “At night, the whole city is alive and pulsing. Lights, color, people, talking, all your senses are assaulted if you so much as walk down the street in the city. It is always bustling…to the point that while walking you feel like you are being added into the life’s blood of the city…” he shrugged as he took hold of his drink, but before he attempted to drink, he looked towards her again and laughed. “But there are a lot of seagulls. They’re little thieves too.” he showed her his unoccupied hand to reveal a small scar between his thumb and index finger. “Damn ocean buzzard snatched a pretzel right outta my hand.”

He told her about Miami. Hot, but nice, with a scent like the sea. She smiled wistfully. It sort of reminded her of Columbia.

She grabbed her drink when it came, still listening to his commentary. Lenna sat for a minute, listening, rim of her drink held aloft by her fingertips. It was a good sensory description. She could almost picture it all.

What was he? Some hopeless romantic? Even reminiscing the damned gulls.

Lenna chuckled. "You sound like you miss it," She said. She gestured to the scar. "Despite any painful memories that might have been there."

>> "You sound like you miss it…Despite any painful memories that might have been there."

“Yeah,” Jorge said with a small chuckle. “There are times where I do. It’s odd leaving everything you’ve known for half your life behind and just attempt to restart somewhere completely new.”

The detective sighed a little homesick as he took another sip of his rum. It was true, he did miss home from time to time. He came to New York to work with more of his kind, to use his abilities to help people in a legal way that did not mean him running out in tights and a cape. Then again, was that really worth leaving behind his only family and friends that he had ever known? How long had he been here and barely made so much as an acquaintance?

But Jorge did not linger on those details for long. The truth was, as much as he missed home, he was still excited to be working in this city. There was such potential and mystique here. Besides, had he not made the decision to move when he did, he might still be living the life of the lonely bachelor in a city that had become mundane and predictable! At least here he was living the life of a lonely bachelor in a city he hardly knew anything about.

Victory was his.

He chuckled as he shook his head and took another drink. “But I’m still glad I did it. Besidse…I think I’m adapting well…” he smirked.

Lenna, his fellow escapee was really a mystery to him. Normally he was good a gauging what type a person someone was when he first met them, but he really could not get a lock on her. She was pretty laid back, but she seemed to have a side that he was glad he was not on the bad side of. That could have just been paranoid instinct though.

“What about yourself?” he asked. “Native New Yorker?”

>>“Yeah,” Jorge said with a small chuckle. “There are times where I do. It’s odd leaving everything you’ve known for half your life behind and just attempt to restart somewhere completely new.”

Lenna nodded. She knew the feeling well. She'd moved away from Columbia, away from Cortez to start a new life. It had been exciting, but during her time away, she had missed a few of her old friends. It was hard enough keeping track of them across the world. With the work she'd done, it had been downright impossible.

She nursed her drink as he finished up what he was saying. A smirk slipped across her lips, obscured behind her drink glass at the mention of the word 'adapting'. Adapted. The word was probably only funny to her.

He asked about her. Lenna set her drink down. "Nope. Not a native New Yorker. I'm from South America." She didn't feel like lying. That small of a detail wouldn't incriminate her. Besides, if she'd lied she wouldn't have had anything to say about her home. She would have had nothing to share.

Jorge paused. Something he had said earlier had caused the woman to smirk. He did not know what it was, then again, he was quite the storyteller. Maybe she was just amused by the fact that he actually hailed from Florida. Whatever the case, it was comfortable talking to her. She had a good sense of humor…and excellent taste in music. She knew the “Rhinestone Cowboy” reference.

But when he asked about whether or not she was native her, her answer was short and to the point.

>> "Nope. Not a native New Yorker. I'm from South America."

“Really?” he said with a nod as he took another drink of rum. “Always wanted to go. Never really had the opportunity once I joined the police academy though.”

Another sip and he had to admit that rum here was very good. They must have really stocked the good stuff. He would definitely make sure to visit this place again when he could. Not that he was that heavy of a drinker, but after the things he has seen so far while living in New York, he had a feeling that on some days, he was going to need a stiff drink. After all, were-scorpions and cyborg women were as good a reason as any to drink.

He sighed as he glanced at his glass and then once more turned his attention to Lenna. “New York is definitely a long way from South America,” he said honestly. “You miss it?” he queried as he took one more sip. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is. I’d hate to come off as nosy.”

Lenna took a drink as he replied. He'd never gone to South America, it seemed.

It was true. South America was quite a ways. Did she miss it? That question took no time or thought to answer. "The sunsets." Lenna said. "They were beautiful. That's all there is back in Columbia for me now. I don't have any family. I don't miss it." She glanced towards the bartender. "Thankfully, these New York bartenders seem to have good taste in alcohol. Otherwise, I might get homesick for that."