2011 06 20: An Englishman in New York

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Mission Name: An Englishman In New York
Date of Mission: June 20, 2011
Locale: Bronx Mall

Wit depends on the kindness of a stranger to lead him back to the subway.

Geoff Wit

The mid-morning has not brought out a strong crowd of shoppers, but there are a few dubious-looking groups of hood rats strewn throughout the food court and lower levels. Wit happens to be among them but he's not running in a pack today. He is instead taking dollar bills out of his pocket and meticulously counting and recounting them. The dark-haired youth looks just a little strung out on something or other - though if the spot of white dust underneath his nose is any indication, it's China white. He reaches up to habitually wipe at his nose and snort, his blue-green eyes glassily fixed upon the bills that he counts for a fifth time before pocketing, only to reach into his pocket and take out a handful of change.

Mid-morning on a weekend is a great time for Geoff to show up. When he steps into the mall, he already seems laden with some bags. A backpack is slung over one shoulder, and he's carrying a box tied with string in the other hand. He looks like he's dragging a bit, a bit purple under the eyes, feet hardly picking up. Without changing his expression, he eyes the young Wit and his snowy nose.

Wit does the utterly unthinkable and drops his change on the ground straight away. "Bollocks," he mutters, English accent detectable in that mild curse. "Hands would stop shaking…" He kneels down and scoops up the change, deciding not to bother with counting it after all as he pockets it all and stands back up, his hands somewhat shaky. He wipes at his nose again and manages to wipe away most of the white powder before he spots Geoff and gives a nod to the man, wiping at his nose rather habitually again. If not for his somewhat punk-ish attire, he could be just one of those nerdy kids in school who has allergies year-round.

Geoff smiles at Wit, lifting his chin, showing that special brand of masculine respect reserved especially for strangers in urban environments. "You got it all?" he asks, glancing down at the ground, then back at Wit.

"Oi, I guess. Don't really matter, does it? Change is change. Someone told me that I needed to sit my five dollar ass down before they made change once." Wit says to Geoff with a rather serious tone before looking the other man over. "You're a right shopper then, aren't you?" He glances toward the food court and back to Geoff. "I'd steer clear of that place if I were you. They're a bunch of little thieves. Nothing but beady eyes and long yellow fingernails like rats in there."

Geoff lifts an eyebrow at Wit's advice, glancing over his shoulder at the food court. He nods slowly. "All right," he agrees, drawing the words out a bit in his Southern accent. He shifts the bag on his back, though it doesn't seem too heavy. "You okay, man?"

Wit takes in a deep breath and then slowly nods at Geoff. "Peachy keen, jelly bean. It was just a long night. Spent it with this girl named… Evangeline or summin' like that, yeah? Red hair, blue eyes, curves for miles. Unfortunately she spent most of my money and left me here this morning. Met up with some right douchebag in the Food Court there. So now I'm a little stranded… not sure if I've got cab fare to get back home and it's a long walk."

"Where do you live?" Geoff asks, looking Wit over thoughtfully. "I mean, you ain't /from/ around here, that's for sure, but if you're staying in the city, you could take the subway, right?"

"London originally," Wit says, winking at the other man as he shoves his hands as deep as they'll go into his jean pockets. "Now I reside in the peaceful Village. I don't really know where the next subway stop is at either…" He's a babe in the woods, apparently. One with a bad habit. Geoff might notice the bloodshoot quality to his otherwise dilated eyes.

Geoff smiles a little, looking Wit over again. "Well, I gotta run some errands here," he says, "But if you can tag along a second, then I'll show you how to get there. I hang out in the Village a lot."

Wit nods to Geoff and considers the option. Wit may be a junkie but it doesn't necessarily mean he's a dumb one. Finally he nods a little more. "Okay. If you're gonna roll me though, just don't touch the face. It's my meal ticket." It's hard to say if he's serious or not, though he does grin after he says it, sidling up beside Geoff. "My name is Wit. Just Wit, like just Cher. What's yours?" He at least seems a friendly enough coke fiend.

"Why would I roll you?" Geoff wonders, a smirk tilting his lips. "You just told me you ain't even got cabfare." He walks along down the mall corridor, leading the way to wherever he has to go. "Wit, like Cher, huh?" he asks, smiling. "Name's Geoff. Nice to meet you. I never met a guy from London before, I don't think."

"People do crazy shit sometimes, guv." Wit simply responds. He sounds like he should know. "Pleasure's mine, Geoff. Thanks for helping a poor Englishman in New York out. Appreciate it. Guess there is something more to this American hospitality than I'd originally thought." Wit seems to have calmed down a little bit and his shaking hands have sorted themselves out in the meantime. "Not exactly like Cher, mind you. I don't have that much plastic in my body and I'm sure I'm not nearly as adored by gay men as she is."

"Well, don't expect it from the New Yorkers," Geoff cautions. "I'm from the south, where we know how to treat people." He glances at Wit. "You're /sure/?" he jokes, stopping outside a hair salon. "I just gotta drop something off," he says. "You can come in or wait out here, either way."

Wit considers the hair salon with a grin. "I'll go in." He pauses then and shakes his head at Geoff. "Well, there's been a few blokes, but I don't take it too seriously. Are you admiring?" He asks the other man with a cheese-eating grin, winking in his direction as he moves to follow to Geoff into the salon. "This isn't my first day off the boat, luckily. I know what to expect from most New Yorkers. This is the most civilized conversation I've had in a while, though Evangeline and I were doing well last night for a while until the carnal temptations took over."

"No, I'm just teasing you," Geoff assures Wit, laughing as he walks into the desk. He smiles at the girl behind the desk. "Hey," he says, "I have an appointment with Kelly. Just dropping off something." The girl points out the stylist in question, who's just wrapping up with a client. Geoff puts the box on the counter of the stylist's station. "Hey, I'm Geoff," he says, untying the string. He opens the box and pulls out a styrofoam head with a shoulder-length dark brown wig on it. He looks up at the stylist, pushing a few strands of the wig into place. "Okay, so, I just need you to go ahead and put some color in this for me. I wanted some color and low-lights in this, you know, tone it down, take it to a dark sort of reddish…like Cherry Coke." He smiles, and the stylist brings some color samples and he picks out the colors he wants. "I don't need it for a couple days, so you can just do it when you get the time and I'll pay when I pick it up."

Wit leans against the desk as Geoff approaches it, trying to make himself look as attractive as he possibly can to the girl behind it. He licks his lips and wags his eyebrows at her, then watches with mild interest as Geoff pulls the wig out. "Nice wig." He comments with a low whistle, then listens silently for the most part until Geoff mentions dark red lowlights. "Always an ace choice, my friend. I wonder how that color would look on me…" He muses, stealing a glance toward one of the mirrors in the shop.

Coming in with another guy who came to get his wig styled is probably not the best way to get tail from females, but who knows? Geoff works out the details with the stylist, then looks over at Wit with a smile. "Well, thank you," he says. "Maybe I'll let you try it on sometime," he jokes. "Okay, I can take you to the subway, now, if you want."

"Wouldn't be the first time I'd dressed in drag there, old fellow." Wit clicks his tongue at Geoff and starts to walk away with the man. "Though I do suppose that mere wig application does not necessarily constitute as crossdressing, but in some circles…" Wit waggles his hand back and forth in a dubious manner, taking in a deep breath. "Right. To the subway."

"Oh, /really/?" Geoff asks with surprise, leading the way back out the front doors. "So you /are/ like Cher," he teases. "So tell me, what special occasion got you in a dress, my friend?" He heads out to the street and turns the corner, obviously quite sure about where he's going.

Wit considers the situation for a minute. "A lot of drugs and a girl… maybe a couple boys." He gives a slight shrug of his shoulders and reaches up to run his fingers through his hair, sniffling a bit. He glances around as if trying to familiarize himself witht he area, but who knows if he'll remember the next time he's down here anyway.

Geoff smiles at that information. "Mmhmm," he responds, glancing over at Wit, though he keeps up the New York pace without pause. "Are you holding?" he asks casually, tucking his hands into his pockets, backpack over his shoulder.

"Everything but your cock." Wit says simply. He checks his pockets. "Not quite, actually. I have a few things." His voice turns quiet as well, looking at Geoff. "You're not a cop, are you? Because if you are, I can explain. It was just the once and I didn't know that it was illegal in the States."

Geoff smiles at Wit. "Please, I'm not a cop," he answers. "And young as you look?" He smirks, looking Wit over. "I'd be askin' for ID before I let you hold my cock." He walks about a half block before he says, "What I'd really like is some Special K, but you prob'ly don't have it, huh?"

"Only in liquid form." Wit is quick to say, reaching into his pocket to remove a small vial that looks like it's actually an ear drop bottle, complete with dropper lid. "I'll give it to you for free since you've been a good sport. And it's clean, too. I promise you that. I'd never sell anything dirty… Goes against my moral code. Yeah, dealers have morals. Imagine that…" Wit says with a quiet snicker before he offers the dropper out. "And I'm twenty-two. Doesn't look like it, but it's true."

Geoff takes the vial quickly, putting it in his pocket to keep the deal from being too obvious. "Well, aren't you sweet?" he says, smirking. "Twenty-two, though? I don't buy that shit…" He nods to the subway entrance and heads down the stairs. "Lemme see your ID," he requests.

Wit shakes his head and grins. "Sorry, no can do. You know too much already. Thanks for the directions. I'll probably see you later, Geoff… small world and everything." He waves to the man as he jogs down the steps to the subway entrance, waving over his shoulder. He stops to look over at a pretty blonde as she exits the subway, then continues down.

Geoff shrugs and lifts a hand in a lazy sort of wave. "See ya," he says, and heads his own way.

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