2011 06 06: Lip Service

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Mission Name: Lip Service
Date of Mission: June 6, 2011
Locale: Washington Square Park

Cattiness and mouthiness collide in the park.


Geoff Lip Tamara

It's dusk, which is falling pretty late these days, around seven-thirty or eight. People are out of work, some have eaten dinner, some are just on their way. All the NYU students are gone by now, but that doesn't leave the park empty by a long shot. Any number of dog-walkers, people on dates, parents with kids, loitering hipsters, annoying mimes and chess players are present, and among these is Geoff, sitting on the base of a broze statue and smoking a cigarette, watching the tide of people roll away.

Tamara is walking through the park arm-in-arm with a grey-haired gentleman who just exudes wealth. He's old enough to be her father, but there's something too suggestive in the way she leans in to teasingly kiss him on the cheek before bidding him goodbye. While the silver fox heads off in one direction, Tamara watches him go for a moment, before turning to saunter along in the other, looking entirely too pleased with herself. Deftly, she manages to avoid getting tangled in the zip-line leash of a frenzied poodle, as he goes circling around her legs, but the dodge puts her slightly off-course, bringing her closer to the smoking Geoff.

"Oh hell naw! Come on, man! Uh-huh! What's this?!"

That loud voice belongs to none other than the black man hopping up from his seat at some unused chess table, where he had been talking to some white man in a business suit. "Come on now, man, you know how far we go back! We go back to the ninth grade, member? I sat behind your little fat head ass and used to pluck your ear to wake your Sleepin' Ugly ass up! Don't come at me tryin' to pull this shit, man!" The black dude flings the random envelope back at the other guy, who is all flustered… not to mention he can't even get a word in semi-edgewise.

"I asked for FRONT ROW tickets. Front Row. Down in the front. Not the back row. Not the balcony. Not the mezzadine… mezzaline… whatever the hell that is. Not that either! I said the FRONT. Do you know where the front is?!" He points to his chest. "Front." He spins around and points at his ass. "Back." Once more, he's spinning back around to stare at his old white friend. "You lucky you my boy. You hadda' brought this to somebody else, youda' got' shot all kindsa' up. Now go get me the right tickets so we can make some money, aight?"

D. Whiteman stutters, "I-I-"

"I-I nothin'! Get on, now! Chop chop! Cheerio!"

Somehow, D. Whiteman is so flustered he just gets up and wobbles off to do so, leaving Lip to sit himself down on the table. "Whew. Crazy ass white people, boy…."

Kidd's steps slowly guide him along one of the paths in the park, His hands tucked away inside the pockets of his leather jacket as he makes his way in the general direction of frenzied poodles, angry smokers and beauties with a prefrence for older men. His eyes lifting to look over the park area slowly, a glance given towards the exits of the park before moving to linger upon the small gathering that had seemed to begin to form. His body moving to lean against one of the tree's that seemed resistant to everything to have survived within this city. His body relaxing slightly as he just simply found himself content to watch others for the moment.

Geoff glances over toward the chess tables as he flicks ash off the end of his cigarette, but he doesn't look shocked or annoyed or…anything, really. He just stares that way for a little while because of he noise, then his gaze drifts away again, only to land on Tamara. He watches her for a little while, but doesn't go so far as to call her. It's possible that he has forgotten her name.

The mad rush of words from the chess tables draws Tamara's attention, and she watches with an arched eyebrow as Lip tears a strip off the old man. "Hmm. Must be hard to get good Justin Bieber tickets these days," she muses, lifting her voice to carry towards Lip, although she doesn't go so far as to do anything so gauche as shout. She's yet to notice Geoff, doing his statue impression, and Kidd is, at this point, just another face in the crowd.

Lip raises an eyebrow at the words. He's got good hearing. "What? You want Justin Beiber tickets?" He's already leaping off the chess table and practically sliding off in the direction of the fine female that has spoken to him. "Baby, baby, baby ohhhhhh… can I get you some of those?" Lip is already reaching in his back pocket for his little notebook. "How many you need and how much you willin' to pay?" Always the businessman, Lip.

Geoff exhales a cloud of smoke, smirking at Tamara's comment. "See," he says from the statue, projecting enough to be heard, "That's why I like you, girl. You're a people person." Sarcastic? Why, yes. He only watches with an amused smirk and cold eyes as Tamara's famous people skills get her Lip's attention.

"No, I do not want Justin Bieber tickets," Tamara assures Lip. "I assumed that was what you were getting your shorts in a wad over." Despite the harsh words, her tone is more wry and teasing than outwardly mean. As Geoff's comment reaches her, the blonde looks back over his way, arching an eyebrow and shooting him a deadly smirk. "I'm sure you like me for many more reasons than just that," she informs him with hubris.

"If you thinkin' the same reasons I'm thinkin', dude, it's straight BANG BOOM POW!" Lip has shoved the notebook back into his pocket and he's working on talking to both Tamara and Geoff at the same time, somehow. He's already eluded to her body being banging so now he can talk directly to her. "I ain't even wearin' shorts. Commando, babygirl. I gotta' get my George of the Jungle swing on, you feel me? Haha!" Lip flashes a big ol' grin.

Geoff has a drag on his cigarette and exhales the smoke. "It's like he's a mindreader," he deadpans. "I mean, you know I only want your for your body…" He lifts his eyebrows once at Tamara, then glances at Lip.

"My. How do you keep the women off," Tamara muses dryly to Lip, seeming vaguely and wryly amused at his over-the-top response. Looking between the two men, she rolls her eyes slightly and then turns to Geoff, an arched eyebrow conveying the irony of her following words. "You do tend to make me feel like a piece of meat. I'd been meaning to talk to you about that, really."

Lip raises his hand. "I can help with that, baby. Seriously." He's clearly not worried about looking like more of a fool than he already has started to look like. He's much more interested in keeping himself involved in the conversation at hand. Because a fine ass female is involved and that's the key. "See, you and I? We hop on the next thing smokin' outta' here. To the hotel, motel, holiday innnnnnn. Which leaves this dude out in the cold like I don't even know what. Then? We getcha'-getcha'-getcha' freak on…"

"Damn, you hop from song to song with less flow than a college radio station," Geoff tells Lip, then offers the pack of cigarettes in Tamara's direction with a silent inquiry as to whether she would like a smoke.

"If only he were as easy to turn off," Tamara replies in a slow, smooth sort of tone, making a little dismissive gesture towards the cigarettes. "Trying to quit." Looking back to Lip, she gives him another smirk and shakes her head. "Sorry, doll, but I'm way out of your league. But I do appreciate the offer. Sort of." She takes a few steps to one side, moving herself closer to the conversation and also out of the path of oncoming foot traffic.

"Girl, you don't know what you missin'. But s'all good. You don't like me now, but when I BLOW UUUUUUP, you gonna' be crawlin' all over me like Linkin Park." Lip flashes a big ol' grin, because that's all he ever seems to do and starts to give a glance around the park. Looking for more potential clients or prospective booty calls.

Geoff offers the pack in Lip's direction. "Can't win 'em all, player," he offers philosophically. In the meantime, he lights his next cigarette off the stub of the first. Probably not the /first/, actually.

"It is a hardship, but we both know that's how the game is played," Tamara replies to Lip, shrugging her shoulders lightly. "Call me when you, uh, blow up." She makes no effort to deny that she might be more interested then. Looking back to Geoff, she watches him light up another cigarette. "You know, I read somewhere those things can kill you." She doesn't sound like she really cares, but simply needs to find something comment upon.

"Man, you must be out yo' mind. Don't know cigarettes touch these luscious lips." Lip takes a moment to wet his lips and even puckers up a couple of times. He takes pride in his namesakes. "If it ain't weed or a fine ass chick like this right here or my Big Mommas special macaroni and cheese? It ain't gettin' near these. Check 'em!" And thus the fish face becomes part of his show off his lips tour. A second later, he's straightening out his face and reaching into his pocket for his keys. "Last chance, babygirl…" he warns.

"I read somewhere that apples can kill you," Geoff answers. He smiles at Lip. "And macaroni, if that's all you eat," he adds, and lifts an eyebrow, looking at the puckered lips. "Not bad," he says, "But now you're getting my attention and not hers," he points out, nodding at Tamara.

"I think I read that too. Something about cyanide in the seeds," Tamara concurs. "But one doesn't preclude the other. I wouldn't suggest eating apple seeds either." Looking back to Lip, she gives him an amused shake of her head. "Somehow I doubt it will be my last chance, but just the same, I'm afraid I will have to pass on the offer." She glances to Geoff with an arched eyebrow, as if to wordlessly ask if he will pass as well.

"… Ew." comes out of Lip's mouth as he starts backing away from the craziness that's happening over with Tamara and Geoff. Especially, the Geoff one. He stumbles a bit and turns on his heels as he works his keys fully out of the pocket and hits the button on his alarm key. There's a Lamborghini parked near one of the entrances of the park and he's heading off towards it. "Back then they didn't want me, now I'm hot, they all on me…" is muttered to himself as he gets his swag strut on towards the car.

"That's what I thought, bitch," Geoff calls after Lip, then flicks the butt of the first cigarette to the ground. "You bring that hot-ass car over to Chelsea, come pick me up," he taunts. Then he looks back to Tamara. "I don't know what 'preclude' means," he says, "But I know I like cigarettes better than apples."

"That is a nice car," Tamara grants in a musing tone, as if she's perhaps not reconsidering, but at least filing away that detail in her memory banks. "See you around, Linkin Park." After watching Lip strut towards the car for a moment, she turns back to Geoff. "Perhaps that's the new Atkin's diet. It would probably be more effective. And, somehow, even worse for you. I suggest you patent the idea before someone else does."

"Nothing new about it," Geoff says. "Models been using cigarettes to stay skinny since skinny came in style," he says, smiling. "Otherwise I'd get rich quick, for sure."

"Well, I know that. I meant the cigarettes instead of apples idea, in particular," Tamara replies, casting one last look off towards the Lamborghini - and, by consequence, towards Lip - but then she looks back to Geoff again. "Anyway. I should be getting home myself. I need to get ready for a night out."

"Oh, well. Fuck apples," Geoff declares eloquently, nodding. "That's what I'll call it." He gives a little smile and a partial wave. "Shoulda been nicer. Coulda got a ride home in that thing," he teases.

"Fuck apples. Well, it's certainly memorable," Tamara allows. She rolls her eyes in the direction of the sexy sports car. "Oh please. If I wanted a ride home in it, I'd get a ride home in it. We both know that. Besides, I was nice," she points out with a smirk that suggests he wouldn't want to see her when she isn't playing nice.

Geoff snorts, looking up at the smoke coming out of his nose. "Girl, we both know what I meant by 'nice,'" he claims. "Now you better get on home. Almost 9 PM. Your date'll be wanting to call you for that long-distance good-night kiss."

"Yes, but some of us at least pretend to have class," Tamara points out pointedly to Geoff, giving him a long look that's playfully stern. "Now, now. Jealousy isn't becoming on you. But yes. It is time to go," she concurs, checking her elegant, expensive timepiece before she gives him a waggle of fingers and starts heading out of the park.

Geoff narrows his eyes a little at Tamara's playful putdowns, but the corners of his mouth curl enough that he's probably not really angry. Or if there's anger in there anywhere, it's not on the surface.


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