xp_logs | Dani & Manuel - East meet West (Reply)

Hating men, when you live with many, is Not A Good Thing, especially when he insults pretty much the only important thing she thinks she has. Of course, they're both wrong and blow everything out of proportion. Danielle and Manuel meet without the meat tenderizer getting in their way.

Manuel sat casually in the kitchen, fingering his iPod. His earbuds weren't actually in, although he was sorely torn between music and food. Listening to music while eating food, he'd discovered, was usually a bad idea, as either the food or the music got ignored. And that just wasn't right. So there he was, sitting at the kitchen table with a big roast beef sandwich and a tall glass of water to wash it down with in front of him.

"Hey," Danielle greeted the teen in the kitchen, as she opened the fridge looking for some fruit. She didn't remember meeting him, but she had met so many people, she didn't really rememebr them all. "Don't you need to eat more than that?"

Manuel blinked at the new girl. "Yes." he said, taking a big bite of his sandwich. "This is just a snack to tide me over to dinnertime." he said after he had politely chewed and swallowed his bite. "I'm Manuel. I don't believe we've met before." he said in a New England old-money accent. "How long have you been in the Mansion?"

Dani paused in peeling her orange to think, Christmas and then..."2 weeks? Maybe," she replied, unsure, "Everyone left right when I got here. Then I left and now I'm back," she wasn't sure she followed, but it made sense somehow. Time seemed to be passing in strange ways.

"Ah, that would explain it. I was amnesiac when you arrived, and then I went to Europe for a while. Feeling much better now, though." he admitted with a charming smile. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your gift?"

"Ah...good?" Danielle wasn't sure if this was good or not. He at least seemed fairly amiable about it. "I'm an empath...I think. I make illusions based on your dreams."

Manuel blinked. Repeatedly. "An empath?" he said with great excitement. "I used to be an empath! No illusions, though." He then stared at Dani as if to burn her image into his memory. "I'm not any more, though. My power is apparently broken."

"How does a power break? It's genetic, ain't it? You don't send in coupons," Danielle leaned against the counter, steadily ignoring the recipes next to her. Dinner could wait a few minutes before being marinaded.

Manuel smiled thinly. "A long story." he said charitably. "I don't remember any of it, but it's a long story. That much I do know." he said. For once, he could talk about it and not get a screaming headache! Bonus! "Hey, there's a thought. If you're an empath, can you tell me what I'm feeling right now?" he asked her.

"Um...happy?" she guessed, not entirely certain. She wasn't used to actually using her powers on request, "I can't just tell you what you feel really...I make your feelings real. Mostly I make people afraid." Quickly, she turned back to the pantry, pulling out spices and seasonings to marinade dinner.

Manuel shook his head. "Nope." he said. "But hey, if you can't control it you can't control it. But I would really like to see what you could get from me. Maybe your power would wake mine up!" he said hopefully. "Would you try? Please?" he asked, coming a shade or two closer to outright begging.

"Um...I don't know..." Danielle tried to busy herself with preparing for dinner. Manuel was a little too enthusiastic, "I ...I can't control mine. Not really. I don't want to hurt you."

Manuel hrmmed. "OK." he said, clearly disappointed. "That makes sense. Sorry for bothering you." he said, turning back to his sandwich for another big bite, washed down with a gulp of water. "There's something about you - where are you from?" he asked her with a smile. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone like you before."

"Maybe in a few months, if they're still broken? Here, mix all this," she instructed, putting a bowl of sauce in front of him. "I'm Cheyenne."

Manuel looked at the bowl of sauce. "What's a Cheyenne?" he asked as he began to awkwardly stir the bowl's contents. "I'm not familiar with that country."

Danielle beamed, he couldn't have said anything to please her more if he had tried, "You're not American, ain't it?" she asked, still smiling. "Cheyenne. Indian tribe. I'm more American than everyone and have a completely different culture to prove it."

Manuel shook his head. "No, I'm Spanish." he said with a grin. "Wait. You said you're an Indian, but then you call yourself an American. So which is it? And you're too pale to be an Indian." he said with confusion.

It took a great act of will not to use the meat tenderizer on his head. "I'm Native American, white man, not India-Indian. Columbus was on peyote and got confused," she informed him cooly.

"Cristopho Colon was not on peyote. He was a great man!" he said reflexively. "And he was Italian, not a Spaniard." he added, even more defensively. "He was working for the Spanish crown, though." he added with a grin. "Too bad they pissed away all the gains. Inflation gets them every time." he added sadly.

Rolling her eyes, she cleaned the tenderizer without smashing Manuel, "No, he was not on peyote," she agreed, "He didn't get far enough west. But he did 'discover' the new world and brought the white men here."

Manuel nodded. "That much I remember clearly. Had a few relatives make the trip over, at various points." he said proudly. "And more than a few who profited nicely back home."

"At my people's expense! You brought small pox! You killed the Buffalo! You massacred us, man, woman and child because we weren't white! You took our land and locked our children up in schools, forcing them to learn English! And what did you give us back? Not a damn thing!" Danielle raved, her newly shorted hair swinging wildy about her face, "Alcoholism, diabetes, no jobs, no money, nothing! And you gloat about profit!"

She spat on his sandwich, "There's your profit!"

Manuel looked at Danielle, and then at his sandwich. "You're wrong about one thing." he said. "We brought you civilization." He then hopped down off of his chair and walked out of the kitchen, leaving his water bottle and the remains of his sandwich behind.

"We were civilized!" she hollered after him.

Manuel stopped and turned around. "Stone knives and bearskins." he said with a grin, then turned back around and disappeared into the Mansion proper.