New York Manners

Characters: Vanya Adrien Agreste Marinette Dupain
Rated: G
Summary: Adrien doesn't quite bump into New York's resident were-Russian. Vanya follows through for him.
OOC Date: Wed Jan 17 12:27:31 2018
IC Date: Wed Jan 17 13:00 2017
Where: Chelsea - Midtown Manhattan

Chelsea is a composite of town houses, low-rise apartment buildings, luxury high-rises and trendy attractions like the High Line, the elevated park built atop former railroad tracks. Set in former factories are more than 200 art galleries as well as Chelsea Market, filled with upscale food purveyors, restaurants and shops.

Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass and I'm homebound…

Alright, so the six foot something blonde haired green eyed designer clothes wearing man isn't really walking fast, but he is coming in from downtown and he is passing faces and he is homebound. Gloved hands hold his phone, thumbs tapping out a message as he walks. A blue scarf is really the only pop of color on the browns and grays the man is wearing. He's wrapped the soft and well-worn piece of fabric about his neck, pulling it up to protect his ears and nose and mouth from the chill.

Passing the opposite way in open defiance of the weather, a disheveled looking woman is relishing the very same winter's chill. Despite her sleeveless top and the breeze flowing freely through her tattered red pants, she's ambling at a casual and barefooted pace.

And why shouldn't she be? The white-haired werewoman is covered from the neck down in a layer of matching fur.

Rolling some stiffness out of her shoulder as she goes, her bushy brow quirks as she notices the tall man heading directly towards her. She sees him full well, but Vanya smirks mischievously as she continues straight on, testing how much attention he's paying the world outside his cell phone.

Message sent, Adrien looks up from his phone with about a meter before he's face to face with the 'not-dressed-for-this-weather' 'I'm-cold-just-looking-at-you-put-on-a-sweater' fur-covered woman. His eyes widen in light surprise and a faint blush creeps over his cheeks (which will be blamed on the cold, thankyouverymuch) as his mind tells him that if he hadn't looked up he would have run into the woman. It's not at all helped by how she is smirking and walking right toward him.

An apology, in french, is murmured and Adrien pointedly and politely tries to move to one side.. People! His eyes dart the other way… People!

Just his luck, no clear route to side step. So, the blonde stops to let the woman walk around him. Because this is sensible.

Adrien is still so socially awkward somedays.

Vanya pauses with Adrien and her eyes follow his, flitting from side to side before returning to the man's face. Arm's reach away, she makes no effort to move aside herself or go around the stopped Frenchman. "Go on. You were about to walk through me, da?" she offers with a gruff Slavic accent betraying her own origin only slightly faster than her choice in words.

The blush brightens faintly as he is called out on having been too focused on his phone that he nearly collided with someone on the street. (Plus, the lived with fashion all his life sense is weeping at the woman's attire!)

"Eh… ah. I am very sorry," he apologizes again, switching into English. He too, like Vanya, has an accent though his is decidedly Parisian.

Marinette Dupain heads toward Central Park.

"For what? That you almost fell on your butt?" Vanya jests, setting the back of one hand lazily against her hip and revealing long and pointed fingernails - they might be fashionable if they weren't so sharp. Not a speck of jewelry or makeup apologize for the rest of the werewoman's outfit.

Her eyes wander unimpressed over Adrien's crisp but earthy outfits before coming back up to the man's blushing face. "I'm sturdier than you, blondi."

Adrien tucks his phone into a pocket, hand staying there, cheeks soft pink.

"I should have been paying attention to not have almost run into you," he tries again, now in a conversation that he's not sure how he got into. His eyes tracked her hand when it moved, and there lingered a moment on those claws. He pulls his green eyes away a heartbeat later than is polite, eyes back up to Vanya's face.

"Umm… Oui.. ehm! Non. Eh… My apologies again."

If the white-haired woman is even paying attention to where Adrien's eyes are pointing, it doesn't show. "Is that your only English sentence?" she taunts before rolling her own. "Bogi… I thought your surrender was a joke."

"No. No, it's not," Adrien replies, blush fading as confusion begins to reign. His brows pull together slightly, lips hidden in his scarf a faint frown.

"Surrender? Perhaps you have confused me with another? I have not surrendered…" Lack of context.

Vanya's free hand waves flippantly. "You say 'sorry' enough."

Adrien finally just nods, eyes glancing about.

"Yes. Well… I do feeling badly that I might have almost run into you," he comments, not sure what else to do.

By now the crowd has had time to move. Paths to either side of Vanya are clear, but the Russian seems to have no interest in using them.

"Yes, you said that," the werewoman drawls with an onset of boredom before she resumes her walk, taking one step forward, then another with her eyes still on the man she's about to run into.

"How are you not cold?"

It just came out. The words seem just as much a surprise to Adrien as anyone else, for they were said as Vanya took her second step, bringing her even with him, shoulder to shoulder. His head turns so he can regard her, brows in a worried angle.

Vanya bumps against the tall blonde and just keeps walking, carrying a surprising amount of momentum into moving him backwards despite her upright pose. "Better fur," she answers close enough that Adrien can smell the hot salsa from her breakfast.

Not braced for impact, Adrien stumbles back. His feet trip on themselves as he recoils from the noise sting of salsa-breath, and down he goes to the wet sidewalk, now mostly clear of pedestrian traffic. Gloved hands land on the cement, trying to catch himself. His phone skitters out of his hand and stops half a meter away.

Vanya stops and looks down at the young man with a frown of disappointment as he hits the pavement. The Russian shakes her head and makes a slight turn to step around Adrien's prone form, and around the phone as well. "Pathetic," she murmurs.

"Wow. I knew New Yorkers were rude but that's a new level of it." The voice comes up from behind Vanya since Marinette had left home to meet Adrien. "I take it you've never heard of manners? Or personal space for that matter?" Clearly, whoever the owner of that voice is, she's talking to Vanya.

Marinette is dressed in a pair of black leather pants, a black dress shirt and a fluffy grey fur vest, topped off with a pair of grey suede boots.

Walking over to Adrien, she offers a hand out to him. "At least you recognize your flaws," is said ever so sweetly at Vanya, those bluebell eyes hard and cold.

Adrien was stunned. Sure, he's been here for years now, but American crass still boggles his mind and grates against his sense of gentlemanly politeness. He peered up at Vanya, lips now visible in a frown. The cold and the wet from the cement starting to soak into his pants, he pauses in starting to get to his feet at the sound of That Voice.

Green eyes look over. Complete adoration shines out as the silm woman 'comes to his rescue'. Her hand taken, Adrien accepts her help to his feet, reaching out to collect the phone as he goes.

"Don't be unkind, mon amour. I'm sure it… must just be a misunderstanding?" he tries, a weak and unconvincing smile on his face.

Vanya pauses again as she's addressed and looks back over her shoulder with a cocked brow. "He apologized again and again for running into me," she retorts, glancing at Adrien as he's lifted back to his feet. "I fixed that."

Blue eyes widen and the hand not holding Adrien's hand comes to rest over her heart as she gasps. "Mon Dieu! Someone showing kindness? Being polite? Considerate? Yes, I can see how that might be lost on you."

A glance is given to Adrien and while she doesn't say anything more on the matter, she isn't apologizing either. She does, however, nod her head slightly at the man. "Of course." Yeah. She's not really buying it.

But she'll behave as he asked.

Adrien's smile, however unconvincing it was, falters and falls as Vanya says that she shoulder checked him on purpose.

"Actually, I was apologizing for not looking where I was going, not for running into you. I managed not to, after all," he says softly, tone still polite if now somewhat withdrawn. Phone put back into his pocket, Adrien brushes his hand over his pants, as if that would clean the damp spot away. His scarf is fallen loose, dangling a bit.

Vanya snorts derisively as a breeze knocks her hair backwards and flutters the torn edges of her pants. "Still too many apologies. Now you have nothing to say sorry for, hmm?" The werewoman's gaze shifts to Marinette and hangs for a few seconds, assessing the young woman with a frown of mild boredom before the Russian turns away and resumes her walk.

Marinette arches a brow before shaking her head and turning her attention on Adrien. "Shall we? There's a hot meal and a hot bath at home calling my name. Not necessarily in that order." She's already turning and starting towards home. "Honestly, I'm glad she wasn't my first impression of Russians. I'd never have worked with hem again."

A hand is waved dismissively and Marinette moves on from the topic. "Also… Hot chocolate. I want some. With croissants…"

The look of bordem set on himself didn't bother him. Having it directed on Marinette seems to annoy the blonde, and he turns to focus his attention to the woman at his side.

"You had me at 'hot', Princess," Adrien says, lips pulling into a sincere and almost mischievous grin. Up until she mentions his secrete weakness.

"Croissants?" he asks, longing in the tones of the french lilt he uses to say the word.

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