[Suburbs] I Need a Hero

Getting closer too her, Wally starts to feel... better. It isn't his health, he feels the same physically- well, maybe a little more limber, but- No, it is his thoughts, his confidence, his... everything. Every step that places him further into her orbit only amplifies this feeling. When she looks up from her phone to him, it is like being struck with lightning. The way her mouth curves up into a smile, because of him, it is enough to make anyone swoon from the sheer awe of it all. He did that. He made her do that. He put that smile on her face.

"Hey- I am a lot better now you're here, handsome," she says, perfectly said, perfectly slightly French in her pronunciation, perfectly... perfect. "I can't get my car to start... and I don't know anything about cars other than driving them," she says, laughing a little at herself and the absurdity of it all. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about cars...? I am really lost here... and I'm also pretty stuck here. I was on my way out of the city, and well... here I am, still."

“My hero.”

Des cannot believe her luck. A mechanic. More than that, she’s not exerting all that much influence on him and he’s… just so willing to help. It’s such a little bonus he’s easy on the eyes. “Well- leveler?” she asks, getting into her car through the driver’s side door. She starts fiddling around, close to her feet, then there is an audible pop as the hood of her car finally opens. Des beams at Wally through the window, triumphant.

“Fabulous! Well, I think you’ve yearned a name, hero. I’m Desiree, but cute men who help me out of a fix call me Des.”

There is a moment of silence, then she asks, “Are you from around here? Metropolis is so… metropolitan.” It seems like she’s holding back a scathing review, for his benefit, as if she doesn’t want to burn this bridge before her car is fixed.

Des has always like the feel of eyes on her. Her pride makes her preen, and his smile makes hers all the wider. There’s something nice about this exchange she cannot quite put her finger on. He isn’t tripping over himself to do it all for her, to the contrary, he seems to want to walk her through this in a meaningful manner. Strange, to be treated like an equal. Usually it’s up or down, but this is… on the level. Even when he commends her, it doesn’t sound condescending.

Des thinks she might keep this one around.

“Nowhere, strange name for a home,” Des remarks. “I am from Paris, though I’m sure you could tell,” she says, her accent giving her away as much as her prim attitude. She has that feel about her, someone egotistical and artistic, mysterious and emotional. Some like it, others don’t, and she doesn’t suffer fools regardless.

“The American Dream is alive and gasping for breath in Metropolis,” Des says dryly. When he gives her instructions, she turns the key, that rhythmic clicking of the car not turning over. There are lights on, power doesn’t seem to be the issue, but rather the starter. “It has never made that sound before,” she says, annoyance back, as if her sheer force of will could make the car get its act together. With people it works, at least.

Des lets out a huff of air, something in her lungs she had trapped there out of anticipation. Easy fix, perfect. She could really use that easy fix right about now. "Good! That means you can take care of it, right?" she asks, looking at him with those wide, doe eyes. As she was trying to help him, he hadn't left her sight, she looking for any little reaction to gauge just how bad this is.

"Thank the Gods," Des says, slumping in her seat. However, she knows that when someone prefaces good new like that... there is a but. "The bad news...?"

Des listens, her eyes narrowing. She isn't an idiot, and tends to know when people are lying to her. After years of reading people who would tell her anything she wanted to hear, it took the greats to get past her. "I would say we should simply walk together, since it is so close, Mr. Mechanic from Kowhere, Kansas who still has not given me his name," Des says, quick as a whip.

"Tell me, then, am I your friend?" Des asks, quirking up an eyebrow. 

That is... very interesting information. Des opens her mouth to say something, but then immediately shuts it. There is so much to be said- not for the first time, she feels that hot flash of jealousy. Such a useful power!

"Are you a mutant?" Des asks, doing her best to sound both polite and not like she is about to commit a hate crime. Very many would, in her shoes. This world is... not kind to them. As an out mutant herself, she has been the focus of much hate. She is lucky most of her power is very well hidden, mostly makes people like her, and generally isn't loud like some of her friends'. It is a subtle thing, perpetually for the benefit of others. 

"Regardless, I wouldn't mind a ride. Sounds like you could quite honestly get me to where I am going faster than this..." she says, kicking the car. "I have people who can get this. I have no qualms leaving the damn thing."

Des blinks a couple times, reacting kindly and kinda... happily with his answer. "Wally, then. It suits you better than Wallace," she says, with a prim sniff. She needs to think about that later, her pleasure in him saying he is her friend. Why is there such a knee jerk reaction in her to put him down? She will be quiet for now, she needs his help, after all. 

"Oh," Des says, then laughs demurely. It is something polite and filling silence. "I am a mutant. It is different than the metahumans, though they are very similar on paper. Metas and Mutants have a genetic abnormality- but they are approached differently in the public. I think the best way to compare them is similar to Homo Sapien and Neanderthal. Mutants are... Homo Superior. We are something else. Not... a variant of the same. There is a great deal of fear in that, the next evolutionary state of humanity. Just watch Star Trek next Generation, like, third season or whatever. Transfigurations. Basically how people react to the next evolutionary step," Des says, shrugging and overshadowing the fact she made a rather niche reference.

"So, I understand if you want to walk away," Des says, looking above it all. "Or run, given you are so good at it." She isn't going to answer anything else until she knows she is safe with him.