Starring:
Summary: There are lots of customers in Lin Sister Herbal, and Junayd manages to not like a single one of them. Francis buys a few things for a new cat companion, Wesley gets the lowdown on several teas, Ezekiel makes contact with Hannah and they both manage to get under Junayd's skin in different ways.
Date It Happened: January 16th 2002
No Good Customers Today
The afternoon is stretching on in Los Angeles and for some reason the Lin Sister Herbal is doing good business. There's a few people looking through herb books, others putting some unidentifiable herbs or powders into small packages and plastic baggies to be rung up later. Emeline is wandering the store, trying to make sure everyone is helped and finding what they need, being the busy little bee she's trying to be. "Oh, we've got a lot more of those Bay leaves in the back, ma'am. Don't worry about it. You pull as many as you want."
Emerging from his hole, otherwise known as the Hyperion, Wesley enters the herbalist in Chinatown with a lengthy list of herbs. (And teas.) What? He's British, the loving of tea is like a genetic trait. He withdraws the list from his jacket pocket as he approaches the counter, patiently waiting his turn. The shop seems to be busier than normal.
Francis has a cat under his arm. It's huge, mostly black, save for white paws and shirtfront, and has huge orange eyes, and the disdainful expression of Alfred Hitchcock confronted with a particular obdurate actor. It dangles in Francis's grip without struggle or protest, or even particular interest. It even ignores the caged birds. Francis, in turn, does not say much to it - there's none of the babytalk people usually give their pets. "I swear they have catnip here," he says to it, sotto voce, with the tone of one humoring a junkie. "ANd maybe something to make you lose some weight. You're kind of a catchunk." The cat does not condescend to reply.
To be frank, Zeke has never been a proponent of traditional medicine if only for the sake of convience. Granted Thera-flu and dayquill can only do so much, but you can find those at the gas station. Modern medicine has its limits however, and without dad around to make the proper teas for him he's reduced to actually getting out and doing shit himself. He parks the Honda outside, doffs his helmet and slips inside with a slight frown. Tugging absently at his shemagh to loosen it just a touch, before setting to work. He finds most of what he's after in fairly short order, but the Ma-huang is missing! So he slips casually towards the counter, patient for his chance to complete his cure for the common cold. Big fat placebo or not.
And in from the back sweeps a tall, tattooed Israeli who bears the resemblance of a hippy or someone equally odd. Long hair, beard, unwashed clothes: check. Bag of something that smells bad: check. "Emmy!" he bellows, loud enough to be heard by everyone and everything in the store. "Where do you want me to pu— "
And then he spots Francis.
And Francis' cat.
Without thinking, his eyes narrow, his shoulders hunch, and his lips peel back from his teeth to emit a loud, feline hiss. Cat. Get out.
Emeline would only scoff at Thera-flu and Dayquil. There are much better things to take in the face of colds than that. Finishing up with one customer, she smiles at Wesley. "Hi, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce. Back for more? You're not going to try and ask for something that's going to stink up the place like powdered newt eyes or the like? That stuff is rubbish for business." Smiling at the other customers all seeming to wait behind him, she waves. "I'll be right with you all! Promise!" As June enters, she sighs. "June. Will you not bring your dirty laundry into the store?" Eyeing him and then where he's staring, she sighs. "June. Would you please help some of these customers?"
Wesley glances towards Junayd, eying his reaction with a mixed expression. Mouth slightly open as if to respond, he just thinks better. Junayd's behavior delays his response to Emeline, "Ah.. yes.. I do apologize, but your establishment is the best location in this area for my ingredients. Not to mention you have a very fragrant oolong blend.." He holds out the list for Emeline to take, doing his best not to stare at Junayd, but not for the usual reasons a person would stare. His mind is already processing possibilities as to the poor man's condition.
The cat in Francis's arms looks affronted, and promptly scrambles around to cuddle his face against the cop's shoulder, like a baby. "Hey," Francis says, quietly. "I'm just here to get him something for his fleas, and some catnip. What's the problem? He knock up your sister or something, buddy?"
Its a curious thing to carry a cat about, which is sufficient provocation to get a raised eyebrow from Ezekiel. By the time he looks from cat, to a face he seems to remember from somewhere. Granted its not long before distraction finds him, and the poor fellow is terribly confused. "I dont suppose either of you know where the Ma-haung is by any chance, do you?"Its a modest attempt granted, but he really does need to get his ingredients.
Just as quickly as the spell came on, Junayd regains control of himself and glowers at the cat, then at Francis when he speaks. The crack about his sister earns the cop a string of words in Arabic that are probably not fit for print, followed closely by spitting on the floor. Pause. Junayd glances down at the spittle, then quietly stretches forth a foot to rub it out with the toe of his boot. oops, spit on emmy's floor. Then, with a quiet huff, he tosses his bag of "laundry" behind the counter (WHUDclunk) and moves to help Ezekiel (because he's not helping the sister-insulting cop and his intrusive feline). "Ma-haung? Yes. Over here." He motions the other man to follow him as he heads for a shelf.
"So I've been told." Emeline gives Wesley a welcoming smile and then just glares at Junayd when he spits on the floor. There is nothing for her to say to him at this juncture in time for the moment, however there may be later. "Sorry," she sighs at Francis. "He can be a little…touchy." That's a word for it. Since he's already helping Ezekiel, she's left with the other two. "Our oolong is certainly some of the best. Us Brits and our tea have to stick together." Glancing through the list, she nods a few times at what's written there. "The catnip is right around here. June can't get enough of it." She pulls the tin out from behind the desk and puts it on the counter for him to take what he'd like.
Wesley turns to offer assistance to Ezekiel, since he's here enough to know his way about with his eyes closed. Cat-man has it under control. Somewhat. So he turns his attention back to the counter as he waits for his lengthy list of items to be compiled. "Quite so," he says cheerfully, adjusting his glasses. "What of your darjheeling blends? I have yet to try any of those. Actually.. if you could fix up a sampler, I leave it in your wisdom as to which kinds."
"Oh, yeah," says Francis, lazily. "I'd be interested in herb teas for helping with the common cold, if you have any," His tone is castual, even as he rufles the ears on the cat, who obligingly purrs in return. "And I'll take an ounce of your finest catnip for my friend here."
Hannah has arrived.
"You gotta chill out dude."offers the ever wise Junayd, as he follows along. Letting Francis ease out've earshot before he continues"Its not very wise, to be quite so territorial. The poor shit's already domesticated anyway right, what worse thing could you really ever do to it?" His eyes sharp, but avoiding Junayd all the while.
Lin Sister Herbal is rather busy this afternoon. Emmy helps Francis and his cat at the counter while speaking to Wesley, and Junayd and Ezekiel are at a shelf out of earshot of the others. Muttermuttergrumble. Junayd continues to cast glares over his shoulder at Francis and his unwelcome companion, even as he's pulling out the requested Ma-haung for Ezekiel. It's only when the kitsune speaks about other matters that his full attention is grabbed by the customer, and Junayd stares at him in silence for a moment. Then, he takes a quick snuff of air through his nostrils and grimaces. "Yaa Allah," he snarls under his breath, "you bastards are everywhere." No. Junayd does not like other shifters. He divvies up the requested herbs and slams the jar back onto the shelf. "What else do you want?" Curt. Very curt.
It takes a little while for Emeline to get through it all, but she manages. "They're also quite good," she smiles. "I'll just make up a little taster pack for you." There's a bit of a laugh, knowing Wesley to be more on the nerdy spectrum of her regular customers. "At least one thing I know is what I sell." Putting Wesley's order to the side, she also helps Francis in between. "Catnip is easier done than said. You mentioned some sort of teas? We certainly have some of those. A good ginger tea with honey is wonderful to up the immune system." Smiling at the cat, she adds, "He seems very happy." From the back of the store, unfortunately, Emeline is too busy with trying to juggle two customers than to realize the rude statements Junayd is making under his breath to Ezekiel.
"I find green and citrus blends to be quite soothing, as well as the ginger," Wesley offers up helpfully to Francis. "There is also pennyroyal, it's of the mint family and quite useful as a flea deterrant. Since I heard you saying you were looking for something for fleas." It's also useful for fending off a certain species of demon, but why mention that in mixed company? He's probably overstepping the bounds of customer here, but Emmy seems rather swamped!
Does the door have a bell? If it does, tinkle, tinkle. In comes Hannah. Ever see that Kevin Smith movie where Jay sees Justice for the first time, and Warrant's She's My Cherry Pie plays and she looks like she's strutting toward him all come-hither? You know how some girls just seem to be like that, complete with the automatic granting of the mental theme music that automatically inserts itself in the brains of most straight males and a few females in their vicinity as soon as they walk in, regardless of whether they're actually on the prowl or just coming in to buy some bread and milk?
Suffice to say, Hannah's themesong would be Pour Some Sugar On Me.
'He's pretty mellow. Just found him the other day - no collar, no microchip. Looks like I got a roommate," Francis says, with complete aplomb. "No name for him, as yet. The cat is intrigued by the scent of catnip, and wriggles to get nearer to the jar. "I'll have some of that ginger tea, then. What's the smallest amount you sell?"
Ezekiel lifts a hand just a touch, open palmed. "The world isnt made of cages, dude."and with that he takes the herbs in question, before taking just a single step back. He keeps his gaze down though, unwilling to make any movement that could turn this dude's territorial paranoia into a full blown argument or worse.
But Junayd's hostility toward Ezekiel isn't territorial; it's just plain racism. He doesn't like shifters, no matter where they are. That comment earns the kitsune a questioning glower. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, still keeping his voice low and less-than-friendly.
And then there's this feeling. An electric sort of feeling that speeds right down his spine. Junayd lifts his head, suddenly alert, and turns. The first thing he sees is a pair of legs, and the proverbial theme song just starts up. Ohhhh, what legs. Then his gaze travels upward as the music swells, things go in slow motion, bounces occur in all the right places, all the right curves — and then just as his eyes rest on the face above the shoulders, the music in his head cuts off with a grinding scrrrrkrrch! and all those thoughts of an impure nature flee. (Well, okay, not all. Damn it.) Junayd's lip curls. It's Hannah. "What the hell are you doing here?" he snaps out to her, fighting to keep his gaze somewhere north of boobs.
Emeline doesn't mind helpful customers. At least, when they're actually giving the right advice, which Wesley is. "That's right. I can get you some of that, too, if you'd like. He kind of looks like Alfred Hitchcock." Big, kind of haughty, as all cats are. The jingling bell catches Emeline's attention and she waves at the newcomer, not hearing any sort of music or slow-down equated with Jay or Silent Bob. She's a little too swamped. "I'll be right with you!" Until, that is, she hears what Junayd is saying. "June," she scolds again. "If you can't talk properly to the customers, I'm going to keep you locked out."
Wesley seems to be well prepared for the damage of the bill as he continues to wait without complaint. Seeing as he carefully starts counting out a few bills. Which he stops doing as he turns to look at the newcomer.. and again Junayd is giving a less than friendly reception. He's not immune to hearing the music, it's just at a very faint volume. "Ah, is there a problem? Perhaps something I might be able to assist with?"
Frank puts the cat down on the counter. The cat pads over to inspect the catnip jar with the air of a sommelier sniffing the cork of a particularly fine wine, and then sits down and gives Francis the Look. Farmboy, fetch me that pitcher. Frank, however, is momentarily distracted by Junayd's anger, watching him with a brow arched. "Man, who spat in your bean curd?" he wonders, a thread of laughter in his voice.
Hannah smiles, her demeanor sunnily cheerful despite Junayd's obvious distemper. Perhaps he should see a vet for that. "This is an herb shop. I'm here for herbs." This is carefully explained, as if Junayd were a particularly slow second grader. Then that smile, California perfect in the way that is required of those in front of the cameras in the film industry (even if they're only stunt folk), is focused on the gentlemen coming to her assistance. "I'm in need of some wolvesbane." she says serenely.
Francis recites, grinning to himself, even as he picks up the jar of catnip to measure out some, "Even a man who is pure of heart, and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfsbane blooms, and the moon is full and bright."
Ezekiel steps just a touch to the side, keeping himself fixed clearly between June and Hannah. "Neko ni koban"comes a muttering, as he finally lifts his gaze to make eye contact. "I think maybe you should go cool off, June, we dont want there to be any misunderstandings do we?"His attention for the moment, is entirely fixed on June. With hands full of tea ingredients, and narrow isles a fellow might find himself caught sleeping otherwise. Its Ezekiel's shadow that does the moving however, contorting into a particularly crude animalistic shape entirely foreign to any man much less the one standing right there.
But Junayd is not cowed by Emeline's threat. He just points at Hannah and says only one word to the store owner in the most disdainful voice he can muster: "Pie." Because that will explain it all. When Hannah makes her order, he rolls his eyes and sneers. "What a coincidence; I could use some wolfsbane too." For a far different reason, to be sure. And then. Then there is Ezekiel. Junayd's eyes fix on the man, not because he's being asked to cool off, but because of the name he used. The Israeli's eyes blaze. "My name," he intones in a low voice, "is Junayd. Call me June again, and we'll be having a very big 'misunderstanding'."
Just glaring at Junayd, Emeline rings up Wesley's order. She would like to get customers out of here before either she or June explodes for one reason or another. What she wouldn't give for magic now. "There isn't any misunderstanding," she frowns at him. Instead, she puts everything in a bag for Wesley and states a price for him. It is quite expensive, but then, he asked for a lot of things. "I can handle him myself, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce," she tells him, though there's an edge to her voice. "And I think it's more that there's someone who kicked him in the head when he was younger." To Hannah, she smiles. "Yes, we definitely have that. Please, pay him no mind. He's being a jerk."
Wesley misses Ezekiel's shadow. What a shame really, as that would be something incredibly fascinating. There's enough of the supernatural within this room to make the man hit his books for hours. "I see, well then." He glances over at Junayd before turning back to Emeline. He doesn't wince at the price quote, he seems quite used to this. The amount necessary is withdrawn and handed across to the woman.
On the other hand, Francis does not. And he stiffens visibly, before he forces himself to relax. The cat, mollified by Francis' apparent intention to purchase catnip, turns around, fluffs up at Ezekiel. It seems an almost token gesture.
Hannah still has Hollywood dazzle, but now it's the sort of dazzle that girls share in movies like Practical Magic and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. "Yes, he is." she agrees affably enough. "Do you sell bulk? I'm looking for maybe about a pound. Maybe two." Her eyes dart sidelong and she beams Francis. "That's such a charming movie, but really, I think I prefer The Howling."
Ezekiel eases back, though in his eyes at least he has the upper hand. Now he knows how to set June off, and for the moment he's satisfied with that. So with a slight little smile, the sort you'd miss if you werent paying attention he turns and heads leisurely for the counter. His shadow of course, has been entirely forgotten for the moment. Truth be told, if he forgot about it for the rest of the day it wouldnt be the first time. Granted, nobody had ever noticed it before. The cat at least, is given a smile as well because who doesnt love cute adorable kitties.
Junayd notices (apparently not the only cat in the room who does), but it's no nevermind to him. He already knows about Ezekiel's nature. Scent does that. He shoots a scowl at Emeline for her little remark about being kicked in the head, but tolerates it and instead heads toward the back. Hannah wants bulk wolfsbane. He's big and strong and manly. He can carry bulk. Plus it gives him an excuse to get out of the room for a few minutes.
Letting out an exhale at Junayd leaving the room and not escalating matters, Emeline just rolls her eyes a little and smiles at her customers. "Sorry. He's…eccentric." Right. Taking the money from Wesley, she quickly prints him out a receipt and holds over the bag. "We've also got some great feverfew. Reading all day and night can give you some nasty headaches, I'm sure." Trying to be helpful! Handing over Francis' order, she also gives him a total and a questioning glance. "Alright, then?" He looks like he just saw a ghost. But, she's distracted by Hannah's own questions, and while, she keeps checking on Francis, she answers, "We definitely do. Otherwise we'd sell out pretty quick. There's no problem with that." June's already gone off to get it, so she'll remain making small talk. She offers another apology to Ezekiel. "Sorry about him."
"That's.. quite alright. I'm familiar with several brands of eccentric.. Oh! How delightfully thoughtful, yes, that will come in rather useful." Not that Wesley will be really using it for himself. Someone else in the hotel will need it more than he. Transaction taken care of, he gathers up the bag and receipt, then heads for the door.
Francis's grin is a little sickly. "I've a weakness for the old horror movies," he confesses to Hannah, a touch sheepish. But he's making haste to get his tea and Fatty McTuxedo's catnip, as if he'd suddenly remember an appointment he simply must make.
Hannah watches tall, dark, and vaguely nerdish head for the door in bemusement, and then looks back at Emeline. "It's quite alright. I'm Hannah." She offers her hand to the woman. "I own the Moon Pie, over in Los Feliz. Junayd came in but apparently he didn't like what we were saving. His loss really." Her eyes flick sidelong to Ezekiel. Nostrils flare, and she gives the man a little nod before her eyes turn to Francis. "I rather enjoyed the Thin Man movies, myself."
Ezekiel doesnt say a damned thing about the offered apology, because for a moment he's not exactly sure what to say. "Its hard to find good help these days."is what he settles on, as he sets down his selection. Its a potent mixture quite popular with the older generations of Japanese, considering just how ungodly bitter it tended to be its no surprise its not particularly well known. He offers Hannah a polite nod as well, even a thin little smile but sadly our favorite fox lacks any particularly noteworthy senses with his dull human nose leading the way. No rather he tucks his hands into his pant pockets, and waits patiently as his eyes wander the place.
Out comes Junayd again bearing a couple of boxes stacked and carried easily in one arm. Wait, is he swaggering? Dear god, he is. It's an odd sort of body language he's giving off, here. He seems to be attempting to impress with his bad self while simultaneously throwing off hateful vibes. Damn the pretty werewolf. He drops the boxes onto the counter with a whump and leans against it. "Is that all?" he asks oh-so-sweetly, smile included.
"My favorite is 'The Big Sleep'," confesses Francis, even as he tucks the herbs into the pocket of his suitjacket and hoists Jabba the Persian back up under his arms. With that, he ducks out.
"Thanks for coming!" Emeline calls out to Wesley as well as Francis as they both seem to be in quite a hurry to get out of the store. This she will blame on Junayd and will take it out on him later. There's a bit of a glare when he comes back in the room, but he sort of behaves himself this time through, so she says nothing to him at the moment. "Emeline," she smiles at Hannah and takes the hand. "Ah, I've heard you have good pie there." Naturally. Taking her hand back to start ringing up Ezekiel, she nods. "You have no idea," she confides in him. "Hm." Putting his selection in a bag, she smiles at him. "You know, it's funny, I haven't heard of anyone using this mixture in awhile. I'm not sure if you know this, but it's going to be very bitter. You might want something to tone it down. Or perhaps a chaser."
Hannah eyes the boxes, and eyes Junayd. Then smooth as you please, she notes to Emeline, "It's good you keep him to doing things he can manage, like lifting heavy objects." A grin. "Do come by. Have a slice on me. Would you be a dear and measure out two pounds for me, or has our Junayd managed to grasp the concept of scale measurement yet?" She absently digs into her purse, pulls out her wallet. Two cards are removed, the first offered to Emeline. "Here."
Ezekiel waves a hand dismissively to the warning "Its an old friend, you get used to the flavor after awhile."he smiles thinly, as he digs in his jacket. He offers simple cash in the requested amount,before taking change and his little bag. "And thankyou."He glances between the two women, before stepping back. To let Hannah do her thing, stuffing his bag inside his jacket as he begins to zip the thick leather back up. He was still getting nasty vibes, so if only to be a gentleman he'd drag his exit out a little longer.
Junayd's smile is laced with so much saccharine, he might cause some diabetes. "Our Junayd," he purrs, "is more than capable of scale measurement and has brought two one-pound boxes from the store room. And though a woman of your stature may be quite a burden, he'd be more than happy to use his ability to lift heavy objects and toss you out on your ear if you keep insulting his intelligence." Smilesmile. "Would you like me to carry these to your car?"
"Just as long as you know," Emeline gives Ezekiel a friendly smile. She hopes that her friendliness will offset Junayd's jerkish-ness. "Thanks for coming by. Stop in again soon!" Hopefully. Next time, she'll make sure Junayd is leashed somewhere. Taking the card from Hannah, she swipes it and holds the print out for the other woman to sign. "He does have his uses sometimes. That would be lovely, thanks." To June, she raises an eyebrow. He better not think helping Hannah with her boxes to the car is going get him out of this. "She's more than welcome to without any penalty within this store," she smiles at Junayd happily.
Hannah works out the transaction and signature, and then offers Ezekiel her card as well. "One of your relatives is a regular." she says to the young Asian man smoothly, and makes a vague flitty motion to Junayd. After all, if he wants to act like a butler, she'll let him buttle. "It was nice to meet you, Em." And with that, she sashays out of the store, the faintly imagined strains of Def Leppard following behind her.
Ezekiel accepts the card, turning it in his hands a few times before offering it..wait no this was a different card back to Hannah. "I'll have to stop by then, its always good to be amongst your own kind. Feel free to give me a call likewise, my cell number should be on the card. I'm a pretty good translator, for when your in a pinch you know?"He smiles brightly, zipping his jacket up the rest of the way and futzing with his shemagh to get it just right.Oh he'll follow June out, the Israeli has entirely removed any hint of leeway Zeke may have offered.
And thus it was, Hannah proceeded out of Lin Sisters and over to her little white Miata. The trunk is small, but big off for two 1 lb boxes, so Hannah pops it and waits patiently for Junayd to buttle some more.
And Junayd does. Still with the swagger and strut that he just can't see to control. God help him. In the boxes go, one after the other, and he dusts off his hands. "Enjoy," he states, the same bright smile that doesn't reach his eyes pasted on his face. "Come back any time." No, he doesn't actually mean that either.
Ezekiel is a ninja, and thus when he slips outside there is no ringing bell or audible footfalls. He just sort've shows up, watching Junayd like a hawk all the while as he walks casually to where his Mr.Bones has been parked. His bright, multicolor italian lid hung from a footpeg. Nevermind the gaze in a rearview mirror, as he pulls his helmet on.
Hannah takes a moment to appreciate the bike from her spot near her car, giving Ezekiel another wave of her hand before returning her gaze to Junayd. "I take more stock in your mistress' attitude then in yours." she says. "I don't know what kind of experience you've had with other shapeshifters that has traumatized you enough to revert to this infantile behavior, but I can tell you this much - before you can think to master others, you must first master yourself." With that, she pushes the trunk closed.
Junayd leans one hand against the trunk grins, but it's no longer sickeningly sweet. It's wry, cold, and not at all mirthful. He's fully aware of Ezekiel's presence, but as the kitsune isn't poking his nose in, he's ignored. "What makes you think I want to master others? See, unlike you— " he gestures with his free hand "— I'm not looking to get into a ridiculous little pack and help protect all the beasties out there from the big bad guys with the silver bullets. I don't view what I am as something to take pride in. It's a disease. It needs to be controlled so it doesn't spread and doesn't cause me to tear apart innocent people."
"Get the affairs of your house in order, before you prescribe to tell others the manner of theirs. Dont project your own failings both as a man, and as whatever else you are onto others."He climbs on and sits, peering at Junayd from behind his face shield. "Now, why dont you toddle off back inside before your mistress comes to miss you? It'd be terribly embarrassing for her to come out here and lead you back inside by the ear, well not as embarrassing as anything you've said sofar. So why dont you either do something, or get the fuck back inside?"
"It must be difficult for you," says Hannah with pity evident in face and voice, "To be so ashamed of yourself that you have to turn it into such outward hate for others. I've yet to meet anyone who asked to become what they are, but I refuse to live my life with the sort of shame and hate that keeps you going." Hannah's tone is soft, which is probably why it's cutting. "Goodness knows bigotry is not in the general makeup of most truely happy people." With that, she turns and sketches a bow in Zeke's direction before turning her back on Junayd and heading for her car door.
"That's cute, you have a little bodyguard who parrots your horseshit and tosses out haughty little insults," intones Junayd without even a glance in Ezekiel's direction. "For his next trick, you should teach him how to keep his nose out of other people's business." The smile never once fades. "Creatures like us can never be truly happy. Unless we're dead." And with that, he pats the side of the car with a fist as a farewell and heads back to the store without a backward glance. Time to deal with Emmy's fit that is no doubt stewing just behind the door.
"I can keep myself from changing on the night of the full moon." Hannah says as she opens her door. "Can you say the same at your phase?" No, he cannot. She looks over at Ezekiel. "Ignore him." she says simply. "He's not worth your time. Not worth any of our time actually, and if his foolishness causes him to bring others to harm, it will be dealt with."
Now your standard hotrod CB-750 has a particularly obnoxious exhaust note, which is why when Mr.Bones starts to a soft purr quieter than some factory pipes its so unique. Swiftly he pulls around, doing a quick loop to slide up along side Hannah. "My name, is Ezekiel Ito. I verymuch look foreward to speaking to you."He pops the bike into neutral and drops the clutch, before extending a leather clad hand to Hannah."It would be an honor, to share a meal with you. I dont mean a date, just a meeting of good will where food is exchanged. Would you be interested?"
Hannah turns her attention to Ezekial. "I'd be delighted. And I'm Hannah. If you'd like to follow me, we can have some dinner at my restaurant. It's a haven for our sort. You may even see someone of similar lineage to yourself, though Lao-Ma's been a bit busy these days."
Ezekiel shakes his helmeted head softly "Not tonight, I have some business to attend to. I'll tell you about it when its over with, can I call you tomarrow some time so we can find a time thats convient for both of us?"Lao-ma, sounded almost Chinese but who was he to talk. "Feel free to pass my name to her."
"My pleasure." Hannah says amicably. "You have my card." And with that, she zooms off in her Miata.
Ezekiel lifts his head, looking back to the herb shop. Quickly he glances around, picking up the throttle as he squeezes the clutch. Down into first before his clutch all but simply drops, and the CB erupts fourth like a shot. After a few moments, he's nothing more than a memory.
