Oh what do you want? Invite only; Sachin [Zaboo]

"Oh crap." Those were words that could be applied in a lot of places and times. But in the Indian boy's opinion, it was very well suited here. "Hello Gracie." This was not exactly how he had planned his day.

He had waken up feeling relatively happy when he had received a call from his mother. This was a terrifying thing on any day, so he hesitantly picked it up. "Ha, ma?" (Yes, mom?)

"Beta, ap apka pooja ker re ho?" (Son, have you been doing your prayers?) his mother asked him. Sachin looked guiltily at a small idol of Shiva, which was accumulating some dust. "Ha, mey bot pooja ker ra ho. It na kinta mett ker ro." (Yes, I've been doing my prayers. Don't worry so much.)

"Accha. Me neh ap ke le ak date set up ker rek heh." (Good. I've set up a date for you.) his mother replied in a happy tone.

Sachin was shocked out of Hindi. "Wait, what? What did you do?"

"I set up a date." his mother said patiently. "A nice Indian girl. You should meet her later today." Sachin barely listened as she gave the directions and the time (7:30 PM at a local Indian restaurant.) Son of a bitch.

So he decided to go wandering around town, hoping that God would give him a favour and allow him to not get into an arranged marriage. Because his mother sure as hell would not back off on this point. He should have expected it, considering how she had been making not so subtle comments on his lack of a girlfriend and what she considered a good career. No chance in asking his father for help either, the old man was just as bad, if not worse.

So maybe walking around town would prove useful. Hell, let's go into this gym and just sit down for a while, largely because the weather outside was turning smoldering and the gym had a very good air conditioner.

He walked in, and surprisingly nobody called him out on it, though he very certainly did not belong here. He blinked when he saw someone familar...of course, she was in Chicago, right?

He had to walk closer to be sure, instead of doing the sane thing and just running the other damn way. Yep. "Hey, Gracie." he said weakly.

He should have prayed more like his mother said, shouldn't he?

"I haven't seen the witch for months now, which is something we're all pleased about. Seriously pleased about." he said, giving a shudder. "I'm a comic book writer, so I know she hasn't forgotten about me and she'll probably reappear the moment I've forgotten about her and am actually happy. So I'm just going to stay moderately wary and miserable so that she doesn't pop up. It seems to have been working so far." he said, using perfect comic book logic. Which means it vaguely resembled a blindfolded bird flying in the sky.

"Anyway, I'm going to cut to the chase here and apologize for last time. None of that was done by my free will. I have no idea why the witch bitch wants to kill you, but I'm stuck with her until I can find a spell to break the one she has on me. It's a whole lot of bullshittery if you ask me. Or as my grandfather would say, 'Ya pagelpun heh.'" A pause. "So...yeah. That's my apology, I guess." he said, realizing everyone was staring at them. A lot of heavily muscular men and women who seemed to like Gracie and would probably be able to kick his ass eleven times out of ten if they wanted to or if Gracie asked. And he just admitted to having been in a plan to try to kill her before.

"Don't remind me." he grumbled. "I forgot to put shampoo in my hair today, and I found out my mother randomly threw me in an arranged marriage. It's not a pleasant idea and I don't want to know who my mother's set me up with. Anyone who fits her concept of a perfect daughter in hell is going to be hell for me. But she takes a considerable interest in the activities of her unfavorite son." he sighed. "Ah well. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, which is around seven thirty today." He took a seat on a bench, largely because it was there and he wanted a seat.

"How have you been? Any luck in finding your parents?" he asked, vaguely recalling that finding her parents was one of Gracie's main ambitions. He was searching his brain for other conversation topics, but this was the first one that popped up in his head. Probably not a good one, but meh.

Sachin had an altogether different expression at the thought of Danny's reincarnation being his bride. Have you ever seen a mouse seeing an already rotten piece of cheese explode and spatter all over him? That's effectively what Sachin's facial expression looked like right now. He shuddered. "Well then." he said, at a bit of a loss. He pulled out a notepad from his pocket and scribbled down a phone number, and handed it over. "You can call me here if you ever need to contact me." he said.

He pulled out his IPhone, and tapped in an address. "Froze Khan's Indo Restaurant." he muttered out loud. "Not too far from my hotel then. Thank you Mum, always thinking ahead." he said, putting his phone away. "Anyway, I'll suppose I'll see you later then." he said, holding out his hand and shaking it.

He then walked out, going home. After a while, he put on proper clothes, suit and all, genuinely appearing presentable or even handsome compared to his usual 'just got out of bed and wish I was back in it' look. He then staggered out of his room, going to the restaurant. He got there at 7:20. His date wasn't here yet, so the Indian young man played Angry Birds on his iPhone.

Sachin blinked at her. "That was a rather dynamic entry." he said in a deadpan tone. "As a comic book writer, I'd say it was pretty cliche, but amusing and it would sell. Unfortunately, it's real life, and I don't really plagiarize." Then he blinked again, his face settling in a different expression. "Oh Jesus Christ, I'm not dreaming. This really is real life." He also rather hoped Gracie would not assume he dreamed about her, because that would make him seriously look like a creep. He generally dreamed about Batman. This was a sad nerd.

The man who had curry thrown at his eyes screamed in some pain and accidentally kicked Meera, Sachin's date, who he had been having a relatively pleasant conversation with. She fell to the ground, out cold before she hit it. Before Sachin thought 'Oh shit, I should get her to a hospital', he thought 'Oh shit, my mum is going to be pissed.' Indians are programmed to fear their parents. He then growled, and stabbed the guy there in the arm with a fork, and gave it a twist.

Now the guy was seriously howling in pain before Sachin used his taekwondo skills, whacked him across the windpipe, and sent him on the road to unconsciousness. He then looked at Gracie, clearing his throat. "So...I think we should probably get Meera here to a hospital. Should probably pay my bill too. Lost my appetite though. By the way, what exactly are you doing here anyway?"

Froze Khan, owner of the resturant, walked out of the kitchen and saw the scene.

"Ye ka heh!" he screamed at Sachin, hurling abuses in Urdu.

Sachin placed a hand on Gracie's shoulder, healing energy going into her body. The glass shards popped out as they walked down the road, and the wounds healed quickly, the energy spreading across her body and fixing up any other injuries, scars or even exhaustion that she had. She'd feel rather refreshed due to this.

Sachin blinked, moderately impressed when she spoke in Hindustani. "Palle ap muje batow: Ap ne Hindustani kaw sikha? (First you tell me this: When you learn to speak Hindustani?)" he asked in Hindi. Hindi and Urdu are virtually the exact same language in speaking, though the writing form is different. White people who knew how to speak either were a rarity, and Sachin was impressed. "My date just got ruined." he noted, continuing in the same language. "My mum is going to be quite annoyed with me."

Fear descended on his face. "Oh shit." he said in English now. "Oh shit. My mum." He stared at Gracie. "You need to promise me this: You'll explain all of this to her. I'm sure as hell not going to."

Sachin nodded to Gracie's explanation of how she spoke Hindi, and he laughed at the end. Speaking in Hindi, he replied "Trust me, Indians are always amazed when we find white people who speak Hindi. Hell, a lot of Indians don't even know Hindi, so finding a white person who does is always a hell of a shock for us. It's really a bi sad, but the Brits left their influence. The most spoken Indian language is English." he said, giving a chuckle at that. "You speak better Hindustani than most Indians do, to be honest with you."

Before he could reply to Gracie on visiting his mum, his date, Meera, opened her eyes. She was a relatively short girl, around an inch or so shorter than Sachin, and Sachin considered her quite pretty, though she seemed less so when next to Gracie. The long haired girl blinked once or twice, and first glanced at Sachin.

"You alright?" he asked in English, to which she nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine." she spoke in perhaps French-accented English. She then glanced at Gracie, as if noticing her for the first time. "Thank you for carrying me." she said, though her tone seemed almost cold. "Who are you?"