[ Well that's got to be some kind of joke. He's heard many things over the years, most of them barely pinpointing the fact that they just live extra long lives; no new abilities, no extra strength, no — well, Booker couldn't force a lamp to explode, that's for sure. (That's the thing about keeping a low profile and, as Andy had wisely decided, never taking the same client twice: you get to live a life where no one really knows what you are, only what you can do for them.) Being referred to as 'enhanced' is admittedly a new one.
Unless she really does think he's capable of some extraordinary power, the same way some people used to think Andy was a god. She'd shown him and the others the evidence of people worshipping her some centuries ago, far before his time; there were paintings and statues and stories. Well, there would be no paintings or statues of Booker today or any other day. He just had the bad luck of not being able to die.
Still. ]
I have never seen you before. [ If she's an immortal like he and the others are, he hasn't dreamed of her yet. ] You don't sound new.
[ Which ... isn't a confirmation of his other theory, exactly, but it does give him pause. ]
[ It doesn't surprise her that he hasn't heard the term 'enhanced' used for people like them. The new doesn't talk much about people with powers, SHIELD has pretty good control over the flow of information after any incidents (she's helped clean up a number of digital trails over the years), but it's starting to happen more often now. Something's happening in the world, a subtle shift that's picking up speed, and she worries about what will happen when it all comes to a head.
But that's a problem for another day.
You don't sound new. His words give her pause for just a moment before she mostly dismisses them. She doesn't have the panicked edge to her anymore that she'd had in her first weeks after terrigenesis, so that must be what he meant. But deep down, some part of her keeps hold of those words, turning them over in her mind, wondering... ]
Thank you. Do you know a place we can go? [ Hopefully giving him control of their location will help provide a little peace of mind, if nothing else. ]
A city like Hong Kong, there is no shortage of places to go.
[ Especially at night when the city is arguably at its best — the shops, the bars, the restaurants, everything lends itself to a whole other side of the city that doesn't exist during the daylight hours. It's vibrant and it's loud, oftentimes deafening. It's easy to get lost in it, to be so overcome by the stimulation that you can let it quiet the thoughts in your head. It's why Booker enjoys spending time here when he can, the mission simply an added bonus.
He considers some of the Guards' old hangouts while he puts his gun away, albeit a bit reluctantly. Even if she were to shoot him, he wouldn't die, and there's something about her that reminds him of Andy, of the way she'd been with him when he first woke up after his first death in 1812. It's that quality that he clings to, that he hopes won't lead him into some manipulation that dooms him. ]
[ She knows what he says about the city is true, though she has no personal experience with it. This is her first time in the city, her years with SHIELD having taken her many places but never here. China as a whole is mostly foreign to her save the stories that have shared by May's family the few times she's met them. It's something she wants to learn and experience more of if given the occasion. ]
I'm half Chinese, I'm pretty sure I'm genetically predisposed to consider dumplings a main food group.
[ It's meant to bring a bit of levity to things, but it's also true. That much, at least, she does know. And food is a good idea — food makes it easier to get through awkward pauses, gives them something to do with their hands, provides sustenance. Maybe, if it's really good food, it puts one more at ease. Given how this conversation started, she's ready to accept any help she can get in that department. ]
[ Booker's mouth briefly twists into something of an amused smile, but he nods, gestures towards the street ahead. Consider the levity brought; it does seem to put Booker a fraction more at ease, though he is by no means relaxed about this strange meeting. It was never a question of whether working alone could be easy because it wasn't. Not having someone to have his back if things went south was more than risky, it was a bit terrifying too.
He'd grown so used to being a part of a team, he'd taken it for granted when he thought only of himself, of Andy. But now was not the time to wallow in such thoughts. ]
All right then — follow me. It isn't too far from here.
[ Being lost without your team — that's something Daisy understands all too well. She might have been used to having her own back on missions, to fighting alone ever since Mack had been promoted to director, but the team had always been there. Her family had been there to support her in whatever way they could. Now, she's on her own completely, trying to decide what to do with her life. She has ideas, of course, and a half dozen offers to consider, but without her family to factor in... she just can't seem to take that leap.
Falling into step beside him, she keeps an arm's length between them and makes sure to keep her pace even with his. Moving behind him might put him on edge again, and she can't go in front because she doesn't know the way, so side by side it is. It makes it easier for her to get a good look at him up close, at least, and easier to casually pose a question. ]
How long until you leave the city? [ And before he can possibly ask, she adds: ] I've noticed you never stay in one place for very long.
[ Booker can't help the spine-tingling discomfort he feels knowing that she or anyone like her might have surreptitious eyes on him, tracking his movements around the world while he remains (mostly) unaware of their intentions. Likely none of them are good, of course, once they know what he can and cannot do; he'd learned his lesson well with Merrick. And yet, even knowing that, here he is — a fool — still making good time towards their destination without so much as a falter in his step.
Maybe it's the thought of Andy, and this woman's resemblance to his old friend, that he clings to. At the very least, he still has a couple of guns hidden in the upstairs hallway if Nicky or Joe hadn't gotten to them first. ]
[ He's not going to answer her question; she can tell as much from his casual side-step of it. Which, okay. That's fine. They're still building trust, so of course he wouldn't divulge that information to her. But she knows he will be leaving, and likely sooner rather than later since she's found him. She just has hope they can come to an understanding before he disappears again.
It's that thought that convinces her to jump straight into things. She's asking him for secrets — it's only fair that she shares one of her own. So, in a way that's too casual to actually be casual, she lays a piece of her soul at his feet. ]
[ Booker doesn't respond to her first comment, neither confirming nor denying — not at first, anyway. Maybe he's waiting for the hammer to fall, the troops to arrive, the shots to fire.
And when he finds himself still walking, the young woman keeping pace alongside him, that's the surprising part.
So, okay. He allows himself a question, an admission of fact, and takes note of the tense in her second statement. ]
[ It's the first admission he's made acknowledging that she was right about him. Up until this point, he could have just been some super paranoid guy who changes his address ridiculously often. Now... He's what she thought. At least, in part. There's always more to the story, details that never openly shared, but it's a start. ]
Some people called her that. To everyone else, it certainly seemed like it.
[ Even all these years later, it's still hard to talk about her mother. Her mom, the woman who should have been able to raise her. The caring figure she'd been Before and the broken thing she'd become After. It hurts even now. ]
[ Booker doesn't know how it works, how some people 'have the gift' (this is thought wryly) while others don't. It isn't genetic, that's for certain. If it were, perhaps Jean-Pierre would —
Well.
But the gears in his head are turning, trying to connect the dots between mother and daughter, whether that strange ability she'd demonstrated earlier is somehow connected to the randomness of immortality.
He's currently working with zero theories and a few more questions in its place. ]
[ It's all she can think to say, just a verbal acknowledgment of his words that make her heart ache with old grief so recently renewed. The first time she'd watched her mother die, it had been amidst the horrible revelation of how broken the woman had become in the wake of her treatment by Hydra. Jiaying had tried to kill countless innocent humans in the pursuit of protecting Inhumans, and she'd been willing to murder her own daughter in the process. But the second time she'd watched her mother die, she'd been introduced to the kind and generous woman she'd always been before, who loved her daughter with all her heart and would do anything to protect her.
Daisy owes so much of who she is to her mother. Her Inhuman genes had been passed down, granting Daisy a heritage she holds as so very precious. And she has to believe that some of her own boundless compassion came from her mother — and her father, at that. Hydra had torn her family apart, but she still carries them with her always.
She silent for a few moments, struggling to find something else to say in the wake of her grief, but then she sees a sign in the near distance and nods toward the building. ]
[ Booker is perfectly fine to continue on in silence for the rest of the time it takes to get to the small restaurant, and he chooses not to read into the quiet or the way the young woman's voice seems to soften at the edge of that one word.
One might say he has a knack for somehow being drawn to the grieving, due to his own deep (deep) seeded sorrow — but maybe it's simply that there are so many of them wandering around the world, lost in different ways it's easier than he thinks to find someone else like him.
The sign up ahead is a good distraction as any and as they approach the building, which has certainly seen better days, Booker simply waves a hand.
After you.
It's clear that the building might once have been attractive — years ago, in a former life perhaps — remnants of bright crimson exterior paint now dulled to a dirty reddish-orange, coming off in flakes to reveal chipped concrete beneath. The restaurant's sign in bright neon hums loudly in the otherwise quiet side street, but inside is the continuous sound of clinking plates, chopsticks, and chatter. It's quiet enough to hold a conversation over a small table of dumplings, but loud enough not to be overheard. People here leave each other alone, likely because the common clientele value their privacy.
Booker trails behind the young woman, lifting a hand to indicate a table for two. A server waves them towards a spot near the back. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Well that's got to be some kind of joke. He's heard many things over the years, most of them barely pinpointing the fact that they just live extra long lives; no new abilities, no extra strength, no — well, Booker couldn't force a lamp to explode, that's for sure. (That's the thing about keeping a low profile and, as Andy had wisely decided, never taking the same client twice: you get to live a life where no one really knows what you are, only what you can do for them.) Being referred to as 'enhanced' is admittedly a new one.
Unless she really does think he's capable of some extraordinary power, the same way some people used to think Andy was a god. She'd shown him and the others the evidence of people worshipping her some centuries ago, far before his time; there were paintings and statues and stories. Well, there would be no paintings or statues of Booker today or any other day. He just had the bad luck of not being able to die.
Still. ]
I have never seen you before. [ If she's an immortal like he and the others are, he hasn't dreamed of her yet. ] You don't sound new.
[ Which ... isn't a confirmation of his other theory, exactly, but it does give him pause. ]
Okay. Let's talk.
no subject
But that's a problem for another day.
You don't sound new. His words give her pause for just a moment before she mostly dismisses them. She doesn't have the panicked edge to her anymore that she'd had in her first weeks after terrigenesis, so that must be what he meant. But deep down, some part of her keeps hold of those words, turning them over in her mind, wondering... ]
Thank you. Do you know a place we can go? [ Hopefully giving him control of their location will help provide a little peace of mind, if nothing else. ]
no subject
[ Especially at night when the city is arguably at its best — the shops, the bars, the restaurants, everything lends itself to a whole other side of the city that doesn't exist during the daylight hours. It's vibrant and it's loud, oftentimes deafening. It's easy to get lost in it, to be so overcome by the stimulation that you can let it quiet the thoughts in your head. It's why Booker enjoys spending time here when he can, the mission simply an added bonus.
He considers some of the Guards' old hangouts while he puts his gun away, albeit a bit reluctantly. Even if she were to shoot him, he wouldn't die, and there's something about her that reminds him of Andy, of the way she'd been with him when he first woke up after his first death in 1812. It's that quality that he clings to, that he hopes won't lead him into some manipulation that dooms him. ]
What are your thoughts on dumplings?
no subject
I'm half Chinese, I'm pretty sure I'm genetically predisposed to consider dumplings a main food group.
[ It's meant to bring a bit of levity to things, but it's also true. That much, at least, she does know. And food is a good idea — food makes it easier to get through awkward pauses, gives them something to do with their hands, provides sustenance. Maybe, if it's really good food, it puts one more at ease. Given how this conversation started, she's ready to accept any help she can get in that department. ]
no subject
He'd grown so used to being a part of a team, he'd taken it for granted when he thought only of himself, of Andy. But now was not the time to wallow in such thoughts. ]
All right then — follow me. It isn't too far from here.
no subject
Falling into step beside him, she keeps an arm's length between them and makes sure to keep her pace even with his. Moving behind him might put him on edge again, and she can't go in front because she doesn't know the way, so side by side it is. It makes it easier for her to get a good look at him up close, at least, and easier to casually pose a question. ]
How long until you leave the city? [ And before he can possibly ask, she adds: ] I've noticed you never stay in one place for very long.
no subject
[ Booker can't help the spine-tingling discomfort he feels knowing that she or anyone like her might have surreptitious eyes on him, tracking his movements around the world while he remains (mostly) unaware of their intentions. Likely none of them are good, of course, once they know what he can and cannot do; he'd learned his lesson well with Merrick. And yet, even knowing that, here he is — a fool — still making good time towards their destination without so much as a falter in his step.
Maybe it's the thought of Andy, and this woman's resemblance to his old friend, that he clings to. At the very least, he still has a couple of guns hidden in the upstairs hallway if Nicky or Joe hadn't gotten to them first. ]
no subject
[ He's not going to answer her question; she can tell as much from his casual side-step of it. Which, okay. That's fine. They're still building trust, so of course he wouldn't divulge that information to her. But she knows he will be leaving, and likely sooner rather than later since she's found him. She just has hope they can come to an understanding before he disappears again.
It's that thought that convinces her to jump straight into things. She's asking him for secrets — it's only fair that she shares one of her own. So, in a way that's too casual to actually be casual, she lays a piece of her soul at his feet. ]
My mother didn't either.
no subject
And when he finds himself still walking, the young woman keeping pace alongside him, that's the surprising part.
So, okay. He allows himself a question, an admission of fact, and takes note of the tense in her second statement. ]
She was an immortal?
no subject
Some people called her that. To everyone else, it certainly seemed like it.
[ Even all these years later, it's still hard to talk about her mother. Her mom, the woman who should have been able to raise her. The caring figure she'd been Before and the broken thing she'd become After. It hurts even now. ]
no subject
[ Booker doesn't know how it works, how some people 'have the gift' (this is thought wryly) while others don't. It isn't genetic, that's for certain. If it were, perhaps Jean-Pierre would —
Well.
But the gears in his head are turning, trying to connect the dots between mother and daughter, whether that strange ability she'd demonstrated earlier is somehow connected to the randomness of immortality.
He's currently working with zero theories and a few more questions in its place. ]
'Nothing that lives lives forever.'
no subject
[ It's all she can think to say, just a verbal acknowledgment of his words that make her heart ache with old grief so recently renewed. The first time she'd watched her mother die, it had been amidst the horrible revelation of how broken the woman had become in the wake of her treatment by Hydra. Jiaying had tried to kill countless innocent humans in the pursuit of protecting Inhumans, and she'd been willing to murder her own daughter in the process. But the second time she'd watched her mother die, she'd been introduced to the kind and generous woman she'd always been before, who loved her daughter with all her heart and would do anything to protect her.
Daisy owes so much of who she is to her mother. Her Inhuman genes had been passed down, granting Daisy a heritage she holds as so very precious. And she has to believe that some of her own boundless compassion came from her mother — and her father, at that. Hydra had torn her family apart, but she still carries them with her always.
She silent for a few moments, struggling to find something else to say in the wake of her grief, but then she sees a sign in the near distance and nods toward the building. ]
Is that the place?
no subject
One might say he has a knack for somehow being drawn to the grieving, due to his own deep (deep) seeded sorrow — but maybe it's simply that there are so many of them wandering around the world, lost in different ways it's easier than he thinks to find someone else like him.
The sign up ahead is a good distraction as any and as they approach the building, which has certainly seen better days, Booker simply waves a hand.
After you.
It's clear that the building might once have been attractive — years ago, in a former life perhaps — remnants of bright crimson exterior paint now dulled to a dirty reddish-orange, coming off in flakes to reveal chipped concrete beneath. The restaurant's sign in bright neon hums loudly in the otherwise quiet side street, but inside is the continuous sound of clinking plates, chopsticks, and chatter. It's quiet enough to hold a conversation over a small table of dumplings, but loud enough not to be overheard. People here leave each other alone, likely because the common clientele value their privacy.
Booker trails behind the young woman, lifting a hand to indicate a table for two. A server waves them towards a spot near the back. ]