nextgenerationmarvel | Still With the Long Overdue Things...

Current Mood: hopeful

Entry tags:

Still With the Long Overdue Things...

Things post-wedding had been going well. Husband and wife had no left the mansion for a few days after the wedding. By the time they were willing to visit around São Paulo, Marcelo kept their days busy. But not so busy their nights at home weren't busy either.

After sending off information to Brooke about the Symkarian group to hire as security for the New York reception, Marcelo went looking for his casual, not extremely well-tailored clothing. He needed to take Stephanie to visit his aunt. While she had been briefly at the Brazilian wedding reception to congratulate the couple, he knew she expected a visit.

The chauffeur would arrive soon to drive them to outside of the favela his aunt lived in. They would have to walk in to the slum. A standard precaution Marcelo had taken.

Now, he just needed to find his pants...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"He's tougher than he looks," Marcelo warned with a small grin. It was his father. He still occasionally had a little boy's idea his father could do just about anything.

He reached over to put an arm around his wife.

"Just a couple blocks. Then a few blocks inside. This favela actually has paved streets and things. Not as bad as some of the ones on the edges of the city."

Stephanie smiled at that. It was adorable, really. She slipped an arm around his waist as well.

"Lead the way, handsome." She had to fight the urge to randomly grab his butt. Probably not the best idea to get either of them hot and bothered before they went to see his aunt.

"Any other giant no-nos I should know about with your aunt?"

As directed, he started to steer Stephanie toward the favela his aunt lived in. He had been literal in the couple blocks. They walked two and the buildings and landscape became drastically poorer.

"Nothing I can think of." He was oblivious to any butt-grabbing thoughts. "She has a small seamstress shop for the people living in the favela at the front. Her apartment is at the back. She also works doing alterations at a higher end shop somewhere around here when she needs a little extra."

Stephanie noticed the immediate and dramatic difference in the surroundings. Despite everything, she couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. She'd seen poor people before, often, at the shelter. But the scale of all this was dizzying.

"Will she judge me for my lack of sewing abilities?" Stephanie asked, smiling, trying to get her mind off of the sudden shock of walking into a slum.

He chuckled as they turned off the main street and headed toward some of the residential streets. "My mother couldn't sew either. You're in good company."

He was way more comfortable than Stephanie. He was more inured to this than she was from his visits when he was a child. He had also quietly donated to the hospital and schools located in Paraisópolis.

"You okay?"

"I'm all right. It's a lot to take in all at once." Stephanie replied honestly. She would've perhaps said a little more, but not attracting attention was good.

"It gives me some perspective on things." For all the terrible things that had happened in her life, she'd always been privileged, absurdly so. She'd never worried about where her next meal was coming from, or about being able to go to school.

"I'm right here with you." He held on a little tighter. "Sometimes I forget other people don't visit places like here."

He wouldn't have if his aunt had lived anywhere else. He nodded to some kids running by with a soccer ball being passed between their feet.

"Almost there. Just have to turn down that alley down there and two doors down."

Stephanie smiled back at him. "I'll be fine, it's just a neighborhood with people, right?" Sure, it was a bit of a surprise at first, but she'd get used to it quickly enough.

"Is there a charity or something we could make a discreet donation to that would actually get here?"

"Sim, just a neighborhood with people." And occasional drug dealers and so on, but those were still people, too.

"There's a hospital and schools here. They could always use a little more. There's 20,000 households in here for 100,000 people at least." He ushered Stephanie down the alley to the correct door and knocked on it.

There were plenty of drug dealers in high society too, of course. They might've tended towards selling 'classier' drugs, but they were mostly the same sort of people, deep down. It's just that there was less violence because rich people could afford the drugs more readily than the poor.

"Of course." She waited politely, trying not to look nervous as Marcelo knocked on the door.

Not many people in the favela knocked on her door. They tended to just walk in since it was also partially her shop. Only two people tended to knock. She figured it wasn't time for her sister's husband to make his monthly visit.

She pinned what she was doing and got up to answer the door.

"Sobrinho, you know you don't have to knock. It is a shop," she said in Portuguese after she opened the wooden door. The bell above the door had tingled to let her know she had opened her own door.

Marcelo grinned when his aunt opened the door. "Olá, tia. Como vai?"

He dropped his arm from around Stephanie to give his aunt a hug and kiss on the cheek. He stayed in Portuguese since his aunt was not proficient at all in English.

"You remember my wife, Stephanie."

Stephanie gave her best smile, and her best Portuguese. She'd picked up some having been around Marcelo for so long, and had been working on some more with their wedding being so imminent.

"It's wonderful to meet you properly." Stephanie couldn't be mistaken for a native speaker, by a long stretch, but she hoped she could hold up a simple conversation at least.

Emanuela quirked an eyebrow as the corners of her mouth rose slightly. The Portuguese was accented but understandable.

"Sim, sobrinho. Hard to forget a mystery. Welcome, Stephanie. Please, come into my home."

Once Marcelo was in the shop, she would offer her newest family member a hug.

Stephanie wasn't entirely surprised that Marcelo's aunt was the sort to go directly for a hug. She was Spanish, and they were also notable for friendly greetings. It was the northern peoples of Europe, and their descendants in North America, that didn't go in for affection.

She had no problem giving her a hug (carefully, minding her strength) and air-kisses on both cheeks.

Marcelo stepped into the shop portion of the apartment and tried to find somewhere to stand out of the way. It wasn't a big space, and he had broad shoulders. He almost managed to not knock some dresses off a towel rack screwed into the wall.

He grinned sheepishly as he he bent over to pick them up.

His aunt closed the shop door behind Stephanie. It made the room a tad darker, but that was still no excuse for her nephew knocking things off a rack. She shook her head in amusement at Marcelo. Ever that little boy who came to visit.

"It's good you both came. I have something for Stephanie, and I have many questions for my big klutz."

She eyed Stephanie's clothing. "The jeans might be too thick for a good fit."

On the other hand, one could never accuse Stephanie of being clumsy. If a big cat ever adopted bipedal locomotion, that would be her.

Well, that was certainly forward. She certainly had thought her jeans had fit well. But she showed no sign of being slightly offput- she took it for what it was, a professional suggestion. She was a seamstress after all.

"That's what you get with our horrible New York winters. Thicker everything."

She smiled. "Perhaps I'd do well to get something here, though." She looked around a little at some of the clothes on the rack.

"Tia, you didn't have to." Marcelo protested gently as he put the clothing back on the rack. He puffed out a breath. All it took for him to act like a gangly thirteen year old was to visit his aunt.

"Or don't have to. I, uhm, I can get drinks?" He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the space behind the screens that was his aunt's apartment.

"That sounds like a good idea, Tchelo. Just don't drop any more of my dresses on the floor, hmm?" She turned away from her nephew with a small grin to look at Stephanie gazing around her small shop.

"I doubt any of those are your style. Come. You'll do better than the dress form." Emanuela moved easily through her slightly crowded shop to a spot mostly free of clutter and brighter under a hanging lamp. She went to what she had been working on when the couple arrived. The material was a rich fabric than most everything else hanging on the racks.

Stephanie would've been inclined to agree, truthfully- not that there was anything but skilled workmanship on the clothes, just that they were not her style particularly. The dress that she had been working on, however, was something different entirely.

Summery, yes. It'd only see use for a few months in New York. But it was lovely, and she wanted it.

"Is it a commission you're making for someone else?"

Otherwise, she was going to buy it, or try to.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Still With the Long Overdue Things...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject