Mar 28 06:11:57 108 PA - Long Talk Over Pulled-Pork

From Chronicles

Mar 28 06:11:57 108 PA.

YAKOV'S DELI

It is that odd dead time in most eating establishments, between lunch and dinner. Around 15:30 in the afternoon when people are still working of lunch and not hungry enough for dinner. Rasputin is coming up from the basement, his arms full with a bin. In the bin, is a pile of meat. Yes, meat. Steaks of all shapes and sizes. Having been cleaned and trimmed they are ready for one last rinse before going into the display counter. He is in a good mood, as it is quiet and he can focus on his prep work. He has been spending much of his time in the library as of late, so he is giving the kitchen a good once over.

The pleasant air of late March accompanies Gabriel's entry into the Deli. He's quite cheery, wearing his warm weather gear, his snow gear probably having been stowed for the year. His lips are blowing a pleasant tune with a good, strong rhythm and steady beat. A mix of martial and whimsical. As he approaches the counter, his lips stop whistling, and instead he says, "Rasputin! You keep the good stuff in the basement, huh?"

Rasputin chuckles a bit and sets down the large tub, he turns around, "Da, dis where mink do most of da large prepink work. Havink good drain and disposal dhere, da." He grins, "Keeps da mess away from da customers." He begins to prep another plate for display after washing his hands again. His back to you, he says, "Da, so whats can I be doink you for?"

"Oh, I'm in between jobs. Construction finished up earlier, have a one-night security job in a few hours. Just kind of... well, in my day we'd say 'bumming around.' Still, I'm hungry, didn't have anything more than a cockroach burrito at the construction job." He sticks his finger in his mouth, but then grins. "Still, cockroach burrito is better than rat. Well... maybe." He shrugs. Gabriel suggests, "Great Depression wasn't a wonderful time. Whatcha got? That genuine cow?" His chin is used as a pointer.

Rasputin quickly plates up the display of steaks and washes his hands. As he does this he says, "Da, da. We havink a slow pulled pork sandwich with thick bbq sauce. Or, a thin vensen cut steak sandwich." He finishes washing his hands, "Or you could do a pastrami." He dry's his hands, "And soup, we have some warm vegi soup, da."

Gabriel gazes over the selection, but not for long. His finger quickly jabs at the pork sandwich. "That one, please. Barbecue, pork... makings for a good picnic, right there. And ah... I dunno, I'm not feeling in a special mood for anything to drink. Just gimme a Donovan's Fizz, if you have it. If not, well... just water, I guess. Thanks." He'll watch for a while to see what happens from there, then asking, "So, lots of time at the Library, huh? Hope that I wasn't getting in your way with Miss Monique the other night."

Rasputin makes up a large sandwich on a Kaiser roll, he of course toasts the roll. He pulls out a soda and hands it over the counter to you, to drink as he finishes the meal. He pauses a moment as you say library, then thinks. He looks at you, "Net, you and Monique dere in da libraries with mink?" He chuckles, "Mink is very focused when doink research. Net noticed anyone, who doesn't come and wave in mink face." He finishes the sandwich, "Do you want dis to go, or eatink here?"

The man from Kentucky holds his hands out to collect his meal. "Oh, here, please. I can enjoy the silence - and the company. Looks and smells great." The appropriate amount of credits will be handed over, along with a small tip. As things happen, he asks, "Mind if I ask what you're studying? Or researching? Miss Monique, she's from the far North. Can't read or write English, so she's at a pretty bad handicap. Fortunately, I have some experience teaching kids to read." Gabriel grins and somehow meaningfully taps one of his breast pockets, one over his heart.. "We were only oh, twenty feet from you? You're very focused!"

Rasputin chuckles and takes the plate to a table. He sets down another soda, just in case you might need it. Then asks, "Soup? Dis very good." He grins and as you think on it, "Da, da. Mink net can be distracted while mink do research. Mainly been researchink a form of healink magiks. Dis net easy." Rasputin smiles, "Doe when mink research, mink focus is intense, so mink ignore's everythink. Takes mink weeks, of time to be doink research." He shrugs, "Buttink, time cheaper dhan monies."

Gabriel smiles at Rasputin's words as all of the food is laid out for him, rather than necessitating him doing it himself. He chooses a chair and table near one of the wide windows, where the Spring sunlight is coming in. "Sure looks great, Rasputin," he states, though holds off tasting it for now, but bobbing his head in appreciation of the other bottle. "Most people don't carry Donovan's Fizz - or they laugh at me when I ask for it." He smirks. "Can't get in trouble getting yourself drunk on soda right?" Then, once more before tasting his food, "Healing magic? So.. you do more than magic cooking?" After picking up a fork, he waggles it at the dwarf. "You keep yourself on the very mysterious side of things."

Rasputin nods slowly, "Da, da. Mink has been researhink all sors of healing magiks. Mink net knowing much real medicine, but mink know how to magically cure minor cuts, a few diseases, and most moderate illness." He shrugs, "Keeps mink food nice and clean, and free of disease. Also, I can do stuff like dis." He puts some grease across his nice white apron, mutters a word and it is clean, including his finger.

"Neat," Gabriel says, right before tasting his sandwich. It's not just something thrown out, he really seems to find the magic interesting. "Psychic things, magic things, I don't really understand them. All I know is that they can hurt me, I can do very little about them, and I have absolutely no aptitude for either one. Sandwich is fantastic," he comments with a grin - lips politely closed over his food. "So you're... a mage then, primarily? Ever venture into the woods?"

Rasputin chuckles and nods as he cleans up the grill and area, "Da, dwell mink just got back from da dino hunt." He smiles, "Mink hired a few peoples and we went out over a few days and got some dinos, net hards. But net easy. Mink group dis time was well armed, buttink dis funnies we dwere lackink trackink, so got little lost."

Gabriel laughs in between bites. "Well, I guess I'm glad I wasn't there, because let me guess - today's dinosaurs need the power of a tank cannon to take 'em down, not just a simple shotgun slug to the skull. Am I on the right track?" After a small pause to swallow some pulled pork, he states rather glumly, "I used to know how to do a lot of things. A lot of things really well, like tracking. But how I got here? It kind of knocked things out of my head. I'm having to learn everything all over as if I were a grunt in Basic. Erica's been teaching me some good things recently. Why dinosaurs?"

Rasputin nods, "Da, da. Mink would need a weapons which can be doink good damages. Dhough, if ones good shot, lessink. Dhich is whyink I like aimink for neck and eyes." He tugs his beard, "Dwell, you did comink long ways, da. Sometimes da travels can be alterink dhat." He shrugs, "Dinos are good sourcink of lots of meats. And da bones, skin, and other parts are goodink for lots of stuffs. Manies uses. Mink was able to sell most of meats to cities, dhey should be givink to refugees, da." He looks around a little bit, "Dhough, keepink dhat between you and me. da. Secrets."

The older man - though in this case, the younger man - makes the classic zipping motion across his lips. "Secret's safe with me. As is another one that I'd prefer wasn't..." Gabriel trails off at the end with a little uncomfortable blink. But he nods strongly and adds, "The military things? I guess they were ingrained in me pretty well. A man can flip a quarter in the air a mile from me, and I can pick it off while it's still over his head - and that's with the Dragunov that came through with me." It's said not in an air of bragging, just an air of amicable truth. "These lasers? Don't have to compensate for wind, temperature, Coriolis force? Turn that quarter into the size of a circular hole-punch. I could hit your dinosaur eyes. Still, even in the heavy armor that I.. procured.. I'm very fragile, and I don't like that." Before sinking his teeth into another bite, he adds, "But Erica has helped immensely, teaching me to fly. Why'd you want to keep a good deed a secret?"

Rasputin shrugs, "Peoples are net liking charity, da. Mink peoples didn't like, da refugees most likely net like it." He smiles, "So, if da city does it. It is 'aid' net charity, understand, da? Besides, mink made some profit." He smiles, "Mink sell some too, so dis goodink." He tugs his beard a moment, "Mink is fairl fragile, dis a harshink world. Just be wearink armor and prepares more dhan normals, da. Keeps one safe, dhough mink think even you had freak accidents dhich would be killink peoples."

Gabriel nods along with all of what Rasputin says, even agreeing with the fact that some people are too proud for their own good, and refuse help, considering it 'charity' that they don't need. It's a sad truth. "Temper gets you into trouble. Pride keeps you there," the man offers. Another one of those little early twentieth-century nuggets of philosophy and wisdom. But he needs to put his silverware down and squints a little at the last statement. "Umm.. I'm sorry, Rasputin, your accent. I didn't catch that. I've had freak accidents now that kill people? Or.. back in my time there were freak accidents that killed people." His mouth turns down in one of those sheepish expressions of apology. "Prosti moi drug."

Rasputin is leaning on the counter, on the outside of it. He is talking with Gabriel who is seated at a table eating some sort of meal. The deli is filled with a rich aroma of cooking food. Rasputin chuckles and nods, "Da, da." He thinks a bit a few moments and very clearly says, "Do not worry about," Rasputin pauses to think, "being fragile. Mink," He shakes his head, "I am dery fragile. I just make sure do wear armor." He tugs his beard, "And prepare a heads of times. Dis dery importants." He nods and looks to make sure you understand.

"Ah yes, preparation. Intelligence. The cornerstone of *every* successful military operation. Period. You don't have it? Good chance of tebe pizd'ets" Gabriel slips into... something that wasn't English at the end. "When I got here, about three weeks after my unpleasant arrival, most of my men were dead. Natasha was still with me. Came across these two guys running around looking like knights. They started shooting, my men started dying. The remaining ones. I got a jump on one of 'em, stuck his own pistol underneath his chin -" the makes a shooting gesture with his hand as every kid learns through cultural osmosis. "Now it's mine. Heavy stuff, or so I'm told. Crusader. Personally I prefer being without it. You can move. You can still take a bullet, have a chance of surviving. But obviously not with this new stuff." The older man, younger man, pats the heavy pistol on his left thigh.

Rasputin nods slowly, "Da, da. Mink understands. Mink magiks won't work insides heavier armor. So, mink usinkligher armors. Some day, mink would like to be gettink magiks armor. Buttink, costs much money. Long way away." He smiles and nods, "You might look at perhaps, somethink call Stalker Suit. Dis very light, but givink a little protection. Wears under clothink even. Perhaps da security blanket for someone fragile?" He chuckles, "Even someones likes me."

Gabriel looks away for a second, as if in contemplation, then turns back to look at his host. After glancing around the deli and the few patrons at this hour, he says very quietly, "A friend gave me something better. It doesn't cover my entire body like the suit, but it's stronger, or so he promised me. But I don't advertise it... rather have someone expect to be able to kill me with something normal and find out the hard way that they need a hand-cannon, y'know what I mean?"

Rasputin chuckles and nods, "Da, da. Dis always goodink to have surprise, especially when someone thinks dhey are surprising you. Da."

The secret out - and hopefully buried - Gabriel takes his fork and knife to separate a piece of his pulled-pork sandwich and raises it to his mouth for proper mastication. "Mmm. That's really good stuff. You must have some kind of magic culinary technique, Rasputin. Never heard of it, but you must have it. How long have you been in the city? Must have been a while to set up a place like this. Also, I've always wanted to ask this, but never have - why's it called 'Yakov's?"

Rasputin shrugs, "Mink mentor and mink father were truly good chefs, I do what I can to honor dhem." He looks sad for a moment then continues, "Mink been in the city for manies years. Perhaps 20, dis hardink to remember at times. As for da name, was mink mentor's deli. He went away unexpectedly, dhus mink takink over until he is returnink." He tugs his beard, "Net knowink dhen, but sometime."

Gabriel smiles at the information. "Twenty years. That's a long time. Just barely short of half my life," he admits with a grin. "You're the only person I know who can even approach saying that. But I guess dwarves are different? I don't know about reality, but the ones in my mother's Polish fairy tales were hundreds of years old, sometimes. But..." he quirks an eyebrow at Rasputin. "As I recall, they generally like to be blacksmiths, not the proprietors of delicatessens. I suppose every race is born with free will, no?"

Rasputin chuckles softly and tugs his beard, "Dwell, mink can swing a hammer if needink. Kind of in mink genetics, so to speak." He points to the table you are sitting at, "Mink made dhat table. Looks like wood, da? Stab it with your fork." He grins, "Mink look like wood, but net wood."

The man looks at Rasputin, then to his table, then back up to his host. With a shrug, Gabriel lifts his knife, holding it in stabbing grip, blunt-end down. *Whack* Huh. "Huh. Well... that's different." He gazes at his knife, which is slightly flattened - after all, he didn't think that hitting the table very hard as a test was a bright idea. "At least it looks like wood, right?" Grin.

Rasputin chuckles, "Da, da. Dis good dhough, yes? Looks like wood, and made of light MDC. Dhat way people can be hidink behind in case of, " He lifts his hand to his mouth and says softly, "Gank drive by attacks." He chuckles, "Does happen sometimes. Net often, buttink still." He points to the front door, "Same material, save for da glass. I do what I can," He chuckles, "Of course dhey could come through window or wall. Buttink people net thinkink about dhat."

"Good idea, I guess. Didn't exactly grow up in the era of roving killer gangs, myself. Sure, there were always bad apples, but not like this." Gabriel's stare becomes distant for a moment. "Though during the Great Depression... there were times, when the men were up at the mine... I was the town's, ah... well, defender." He looks up at Rasputin. "I was about eight when the bad things started to happen."

Rasputin nods slowly, "Dwas dis Great Depression somethink like da comink of da Rifts? Or somethink else?"

"No, no. Long time before that. Well, actually I guess all I can technically say is about forty-five years. I don't know when the whole Cataclysm thing happened. I departed in 1959, things started to go bad in the mid '20s. Really hit in '29." Gabriel smiles and shrugs. "Born November 11, 1918. Armistice Day. Celebrated my forty-first birthday back this November - at least, according to my watch." He grins and holds up his left arm, displaying a very military watch on his wrist - a very analog, very wind-up watch with a small compass built in. "My calendar."

Rasputin nods slowly, "Da, da. Net knowink dhat calendar, buttink seems like an interestink time." He shurgs, "Buttink, every time has its conflict or hardships, da. Otherwise, life would be too easy." He ponders, "Dhough, mink would like some easy life for a while, da." He grins and looks around, "Another soda, soup, another sandwich? Apple pie?"

Gabriel mumbles something about a world war, a police action, the beginning of another war in some place he isn't pleased about, Germans, Italians, Japanese, Koreans, Communists... constant fighting that never went recognized but he didn't mind because it was necessary, but he never actually raises his voice enough to comment on it. He looks over his plate, and listens to his host, and judging by the look on his face, probably thinks he's being politely asked to leave. Hence, with a smile, he says, "No, no thanks, Rasputin. I should probably be getting to that one-off security job anyway. Never hurts to be a little early. Thanks for the food and conversation. I enjoyed both." He begins to rise after dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.

Rasputin nods slowly goes over and picks up your dishes to walk over to the dirty bin, "Da, da. Goodink of you as well. Takink care and makink sure you come back soon," He ponders, "Dis you say you were teachink someone English?"

As Gabriel moves toward the door, he confirms, "Well, not teaching English, but teaching how to read and write it. Kind of amusing, actually. My English doesn't quite fit in with what everyone else is calling American. So Miss Monique will still be at a little bit of a disadvantage for a while, unfortunately."

Rasputin nods slowly, "Da, da. OK, takink care mink friend." He waves and heads over to help out the other cooks who are getting behind.

With a wave of his own, Gabriel is out the door and into the advancing evening. "Da svedanya."