a brighter day

Who: Dutch and Zhen
Where: Fontaine Park
When: midday

To hell with the gang warfare, to hell with the serial killer. Dutch's job could follow suit, it could pile on top of a heap of dead mobsters to form a tower of things he just didn't care about today. He was in a good mood. Maybe it had something to do with the idea that a bunch of the scum in the city were now floating on the surface? Maybe. Mostly, it was the still-lasting high that had taken hold from seeing her. Cheyenne. His little girl.

She'd been a wonderful, radiant thing; everything Dutch hoped his child might be. It had rejuvenated him, too, bolstering Dutch's spirits in ways he hadn't felt for a long time. It had, in fact, left him wanting a walk. He wanted fresh air, and maybe a chance encounter like that girl... Anya? Had that been her name? Dutch wasn't sure, but he was sober and even smirking a little as he walked with a paper under his arm and a little paper bag of popcorn in hand.

"Birdies!" was the announcement of Zhen on the scene, as she rushed up to Dutch, and she pointed at the bag. "Is there anything in there for birdies?" she asked, grinning brightly. She was dressed colorfully, something that hailed an almost gypsie-like appearance with colorful skirts. She even rang a little because of a string of bells around her waist. "I would love to feed the birds, if you've got something! unless it's drugs. That usually just kills birds, and I wasn't into that idea today." she told him with a more serious look on her features.

The lines in Dutch's brow deepened first, an incredulous expression that he fixed on Zhen and her enthusiasm. He couldn't maintain it for long, though, before different lines showed up in stark contrast to a warm smile that stretched across his face. "That'd make two of us who aren't up for dead birds then, miss," he told her, palming the bag and undoing the top of it to give her a glimpse of the popcorn inside. "Pretty sure it's not drugs," he went on, feigning consideration, "Unless that hot dog cart back on State street's got a talent for disguising them."

Zhen eyed the contents of the bag critically for a few moments, then smiled and reached out to grab a handfull. "This would have to be quite good then." she told him. She also ate a single bit. "Tastes like popcorn to me!" she added, a note of triumph in her tone. "So, I deem it safe for birdies." she told him with a firm nod. Then she glanced around for pigeons. There were always pigeons. The park had statues and they loved to shit all over those.

Laughing quietly as she assessed, Dutch turned to stare out into the park's greenery for a moment. "Find a bench," he eventually offered with gentle humor, "The pigeons are smart, they know the hand-outs happen around there. Wouldn't advise too close to the fountain or the tunnel though, miss. Gonna end up with some beggars along with your birds." In the daylight, relative as it was, the homeless weren't too frequent in the park, but Dutch knew they still showed up.

"Okay." Zhen said, glancing around for a bench. When she spotted one, she grinned and pointed, heading over to it to plop down. She tossed a few kernels of popcorn onto the ground around her, one at a time. "So, what's your name?" she asked, leveling her gaze on him for a moment, though it was almost like the reason she did it was because he'd interrupted her view as opposed to deliberately turned her attention on him.

"Dutch," he said simply, not watching Zhen at first as his eyes were drawn to the birds fluttering in towards her, "Not what my folks called me when I was smaller, but it works. How 'bout you?" Vaguely racist or not, Dutch was surprised with how well Zhen's English was. It wasn't often that he ran into someone from (he assumed) Chinatown who didn't trip over some of the syllables and inflections. Maybe she was a native of the city? Whatever the story was, Dutch's curiosity was piqued.

"What were you called when you were short and liked sugar a whole lot?" she asked, smiling and tossing a few more bits of popcorn out for the birds. "My name's Zhen. Which is what I was called when I was a little thing as well, it's never changed. But then I like it, so I suppose there's no real reason for me to change it, right?" she asked, patting the bench next to her. "Gonna sit down with me?" she asked.

He grinned a touch, moving to the other end of the bench and leaning his free hand on it. "Papa called me Eli. Mama called me..." he trailed off slowly before giving a short stream of Italian, "Which is the nice way of saying 'you little monster', so long as no one in earshot speaks Italian." Dutch finally sat with a little groan of stiffness, tossing a few kernels of popcorn out wide to draw over a few more pigeons. "Zhen? Chinese, right? Like a... what's it, a Buddhist thing?"

"I like Eli." Zhen put in, and she tossed a few more kernels. "The other sounds pretty enough but the interpretation's a bit much. Were you an unruly child?" she asked with a smile. "And yes, Chinese. Though my name isn't really an interpretation of that. My whole name is Zhen Jia Zi, which kind of goes to 'precious, beautiful, wisdom'." she said, sure to keep the names in the American order of things, so she didn't get confusing for him.

"Zhen Jia Zi," Dutch repeated carefully, grinning a little more, "That there's a lovely name. Me? I was... I was a handful." He laughed roughly for a moment, shaking his head as Dutch leaned back on the bench, basking in the day. "Little unruly, yeah, but I think my ma was more worried about the apple fallin' too close to the tree." Which, in hindsight, had been a valid fear. The Giacomo men always joined the family business, after all. "This city was a different place back then, though. Little Elias wouldn't recognize much outside of this park any more."

Zhen kept her gaze on him as he sat back, and she tossed a little more popcorn, the birds venturing in closer. "Your mom didn't want you to be like herself or your father?" she asked. "Did you come from a bad family?" she asked, as if the question was one that wouldn't be odd for her to ask even if they had just met. It was also spoken like she'd have no idea that some people probably would take offense.

The frankness was surprising, but it didn't offend Dutch. Not much did, really. "Not a bad one, nah," he answered, watching the greens thoughtfully, "But I'm pretty sure my ma didn't want me followin' after my old man. I mean, we were happy? Least as I remember it we were. But the old man drank, that's in the heritage though. You come here from Florence and you don't just switch your ways, you know?" If he thought about it, he'd wonder why he was so chatty, especially with a total stranger, but Dutch didn't mind sharing a little. It was almost even cathartic. "So she spent a lot of time tryin' to keep me on the straight and narrow. Wanted me to be a tailor," he shared, finally grinning Zhen's way again, "I sorta went the opposite way."

Zhen thought about that, humming a little to herself. "What's the opposite of a tailor?" she asked. "Do youuuu ruin clothes?" she suggested. "Do you take them apart?" She seemed to be preoccupied with trying to figure out what the opposite of a profession was, when there wasn't a clear opposite, like cops and robbers. Though even then, they weren't really opposites, they were merely opposing forces. "I don't think in opposites much myself." she added absently as she still tried to figure it out. "There's so much that goes into everything, it's hard to actually find something that very much is a clear opposite? Most of the time it's not anything so pat."

His cheeks bunched in a weathered smile as Dutch nodded slightly. "I do, in fact, ruin clothes," he answered, "But I also said 'sorta the opposite', which means mechanic. I figure steel and silk are pretty close to two ends of the spectrum. But I run Occam Auto, down off Seventh Avenue? Trust me, we put our overalls through the paces." His eyes narrowed curiously as Dutch watched Zhen thinking her way through it all, surprised by how much consideration she was giving an off-hand comment like that. "And... if you don't think in opposites? How do you think?"

"Oh, really? So you fix vehicles?" she asked. "That's interesting. Making things work is always a good skill, don't you think?" she asked, then she paused as he asked her his question, and she put real thought into that too. "Spectrums." she said eventually, after tossing the last of her handfull of popcorn. "Everything's got it's own sliding scale. Everything is only one part of a whole, only one spectrum of everything else. And even in that, it's all different layers and such, nothing's ever absolute. Not really. Sure, people like to think that things are black and white, or black and white even exist, but they don't really. Everything has varying degrees within it."

"But there's no absolutes?" Dutch asked, obviously intrigued by what Zhen was espousing. Sure, he wasn't a deep thinker in many ways or cases, but he got what she was saying. And it was surprising to hear from someone who looked as young as she did. He could only guess that she was an artist, perhaps; the strange ideology sounded like the sort of thing Dutch would generally encounter with those types. "Mind me askin' what you do for a livin'?" he asked as well, "Not to butt in too much, Zhen, but that's the sort of thinkin' I can't see meshing too well with a lot of this city."

"There are no absolutes." she confirmed. "Oh and I do a little of this, a little of that. Nothing specific, really." she told him, having no problem letting him know she didn't technically have a career or anything. Zhen looked at him again and laughed a little, expression and tone of it nearly having a 'silly boy!' feel. "It doesn't!" she said, clearly unbothered by that. "But then again most people? Well they really think they've got it aaaalll figured out anyways, especially some of the different kinds you get here. But people who think they know everything are usually fantastically narrow minded. I mean, how could you possibly actually think that unless you had such a tunnel-vision view of the world that all you could see was your own point of view, only hear echoes in your own head? It's madness, I tell you!" she said delightedly. "And yet people trudge through life aaaall the time doing it. Silly, isn't it?"

"Silly's not the word I'd use," he rumbled with a dry amusement, "But it's close. The funny thing about tunnel vision though? Sometimes it works." Dutch's smile dimmed a little for a moment as he shook his head, looking out across the park. "Like, think of the boys who run every dirty trick in town. All they see is what they want to see, they're convinced that they're in the right, and they've got the money to make plenty of folk agree. Pretty close to figurin' it all out, you'd think," he mused, "But you've still got it right, cuz when the power and money and ass-kissers are gone? That's when they gotta start really making sense of things." When had he last had such a thoughtful day? Dutch wasn't sure; he was so mired in his own misery so often that he never considered these angles. Tunnel vision, he told himself, snorting back a laugh.

"That's the harsh part." Zhen said. "Those with tunnel vision...when the tunnel's suddenly gone, they fall the hardest. Coming to terms with thinking you knew it all and finding out you knew nothing...a lot of people can't handle it." she said. "That's when you get people having mid life crisises! And other such things. That and people really tend to hate it when you show them their reflection without all the lies they put into it. I suppose that's why a lot of people don't like talking to me. I don't play into the carefully constructed fantasy."

He sat forward, arms resting on his knees as Dutch aimed a smile at the ground and considered Zhen's words. Without all the lies... Did he do that? Dutch didn't think so; the only thing he saw in his life most days was anguish, and rightly so. He was a puppet, a punching bag for the DiGiovanni and all of its' limbs. Or he had been until that one night, and somehow he'd felt the burden lift. "So... forward strangers and all, what do you see with me?" he asked frankly, voice a low but thoughtful rumble as Dutch's head angled so he could look at Zhen.

Zhen turned to face him, sitting sideways on the bench as she did so. "...I see someone not that used to talking to random people." she said. "Not sure why. You kind of seem to have a little sadness around your eyes, too. You....work with your hands." she assessed as she looked down at them. "Which means you're aware of what hard work actually is. Which probably makes you someone who's in the middle of things financially. Possibly lower end, but not so lower end that you can't get yourself some popcorn and randomly share it with someone to feed birds." Pausing, she looked him over one final time. "And while you probably don't sit and have philosophical conversations all the time, that doesn't mean you aren't capable of it, even if probably a lot of the people you deal with day to day would be totally lost."

"Not bad, not bad," he answered with a faint smirk, "Pretty close on all counts, actually. You're the first new face for me in a while, miss Zhen, wish I knew the next would go so well." Dutch sat up, grabbing a handful of popcorn and throwing it in a wide arc, scattering a few pigeons briefly before they settled back in to feed. "The fellas I spend my days with? If we're in the shop it's an argument about the ball game. If we're in the bar? It's about the races." He actually felt complimented by her last comment, shoulders hunching uncertainly. "I guess I can keep up, yeah," he agreed in dry amusement, "It's easier when it's someone willing to show a spot of patience on an old wrench-jockey."

Zhen smiled at him. "Well maybe it will!" she said brightly. "You never know. I recommend talking to another lady when you have time. Seems you spend your time primarily with men, and might do well to have a softer touch in your life. Possibly less arguing over inane things." she said, even if she didn't make it sound insulting. "And you seem to be keeping up just fine. So many don't, though. People are touchy creatures."

He laughed gruffly, nodding his agreement over that last bit. How many fights had he seen start down at the Round over trivial things? How much of the mafia lifestyle that Dutch was still forced into now and then just extraneous bullshit? Too much. But we panic without it. "Gonna take me a while to find another lady if I feel like talkin'," Dutch mused with a tight grin, "On account a'how pretty I happen to be. Could hire a girl, I guess. Hell, she might even like gettin' paid just to talk, share a cup a joe. It's gotta beat her usual work, right?"

"Depends on the girl." Zhen said. "And pretty doesn't always have everything to do with it. It's drive of personality. People get more and less attractive due to how they are. I know people who should by all rights be gorgeous, but because they're largely crappy people, they really don't hold an attraction factor. And some people don't have so much in the looks department but you're drawn in just by who they are beneath the surface. Besides, that'd be the type you want. Pretty on the outside but lame on the inside people aren't worth the time, more often than not."

"Well, I won't hold my breath in any case," Dutch offered, shoulders shrugging, "Kinda gotten used to a bachelor's living, it'd be a tough one to start remembering to put the damn toilet seat down." Which was his indirect way of saying that he still grieved for his wife, that and the wedding ring that Dutch still wore. He had longings now and then, like any man, but they never held up for long against his personal guilt. "But hell, the wait's gotta pay off eventually, right? Figure I'll know if it happens like you say, if I meet someone and just find myself drawn in." Still, won't hold my breath...

"Just be open to the possibility." Zhen told him. "Don't write people off, and be aware that there's interesting sorts out there that might in fact, strike your fancy. There's tons of worthwhile people just wandering about, with no one noticing." she said, throwing her arms up like she was encompassing the whole world. Then she just grinned at him.

Somehow, the bright confidence in Zhen's smile was the most delightful thing Dutch had seen since seeing his daughter grinning cheerily at him in the midst of a storm, and it was infectious. His cheeks actually felt odd, Dutch smiled so widely for a long moment. "So I should start noticing," he agreed, chuckling wryly, "Think I'll definitely take that advice, Zhen. And if you ever need some work done on a car or anything? I think you've earned yourself a good deal, just for brightenin' up my day."

Zhen laughed. "I'll keep that in mind." she told him. "Or maybe I'll just stop by and see if I can't do it again sometime. I suppose I should be off, but I'm glad that you've kept me company for a while. And I'm happy that I've made your day a better place to be in." she continued.

"That makes two of us," Dutch noted, winking at Zhen before he nodded curtly, "Most folk I talk with make the world a touch worse. Always nice to know there's an exception. You travel safe now, miss Zhen." He leaned back in his seat on the bench as she excused herself, looking out across the greenery of the park once more as Dutch marveled at something as simple as hopeful feelings. Out there? He could see dim shapes of people enjoying as much of the day as they could.

He wondered who they were as his hand closed on some popcorn and tossed it out. His daughter? An enemy? Someone who might change his life with a chance meeting? Just be open to the possibility, Dutch repeated to himself, slowly sitting forward and rising. He was going to find out.