View source for Logs:And you, O desolate one, what do you mean that you dress in scarlet, that you deck yourself with ornaments of gold, that you enlarge your eyes with paint? In vain you beautify yourself. Your lovers despise you; they seek your life.

{{ Logs
| cast = [[Leo]], [[Polaris]], [[Wendy]]
| summary = "Damn, Uncle Sam's getting kind of desperate if he's recruiting agents from Hot Topic."
| gamedate = 2020-06-18
| gamedatename = 
| subtitle = 
| location = <NYC> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village
| categories = Leo, Polaris, Wendy, Private Residence, Mutants
| log = 
Understated opulence claims this spacious and well-kept townhome, the decor throughout the whole of it of the highest quality and carefully chosen. The front door opens onto the entrance hall, a closet close at hand to receive coats and shoes -- the pale hardwood floors gleam underfoot, unsullied by tracked-in mess from outside. The living room beyond the entrance is all dark woods and pale earth tones, comfortable couches and armchairs and a thick soft rug laid down beneath. Two large and painstakingly aquascaped aquariums flank the entrance to the dining room, with several brightly coloured species of fish within. Most of the rest of the wall space, notably, is taken up with shelves -- shelves crammed with books of every subject and genre.

A study branching off of the main hall is cozy, small, done in pale blues and lined with books as well around the large computer desk and smaller futon, though these rarer books are cased behind glass. Another securely locked door leads to the basement, and another to the full bathroom downstairs. The kitchen connects to the living room; in contrast, it is sleek and modern and well-appointed, stocked by someone who takes their cooking seriously. And takes their alcohol equally seriously -- to one side of the kitchen there is a fully-stocked bar. The back door to the kitchen looks out on a small well-kept garden.

Spring is gasping its last, but it's a gasp of mild gray drizzle today. Polaris is still a touch damp around the edges and still smells faintly of coffee and pastries, her hair hanging down in loose waves that still show the shape of the updo she had kept it in all day. She wears a black babydoll shirt with two red horseshoe magnets that overlap to form the figure of a heart and black skinny jeans, her heavy wrist cuffs and belt shot through with metal elements. She's presently slumped on the floor, leaning against the side of the couch with her head propped up in one hand. "Damn, Uncle Sam's getting kind of desperate if he's recruiting agents from Hot Topic." She frowns. "If you're still jonsing for some karaage, though, we can make more of that happen--" She fishes her phone from her back pocket and waggles it in the air. "--with the power of the Internet."

Actually ''on'' the couch, Leo has one brace-sheathed leg propped up on the coffee table. He's dressed casually, a soft blue v-neck tee and dark indigo jeans, one leg carefully opened down the outer seam to leave room for the brace. His frown now is regretful. "It ''was'' good karaage." His head bows, fingers playing lightly against the stitching on his jeans. "Sorry, that -- really is such a minor. Not the -- point in all this. I just --" He shakes his head, pulling in a slow breath. "Thank you. For coming."

"Karaage tastes better shared." Wendy has settled herself on the floor as well, cross-legged with her elbows braced on her knees. Her flowing wrap pants pool on the floor looking almost skirt-like around her, she has a red sleeveless shirt and gauzy white shrug over that. "I think it is a safe guess that the government has been desperate. This administration does not like ''defiance''. At this point I imagine that some agencies legitimately want you because they are worried about your potential, some want you because you could make them a lot of money, and Trump wants you because he has a tantrum any time someone reminds him that the Mayor told him no." Her eyes tip upwards to study the ceiling, brief. "I don't know ''exactly'' where Mall Goth Fashion would fit into that Venn diagram, though."

"Hey, what're friends for, huh?" Polaris is scrolling lazily through a menu on her phone. "I'm ordering karaage. Either of you want something else?" She offers the phone to Leo. "Hm...maybe Agent Manson is where all of those overlap. Makeup aside, though, it's also really fucking weird that he was ''alone''. Like, did they really think one dude could take you down?" She waves her free hand in the air vaguely. Then adds, as a sort of afterthought, "Or Captain America, even!"

"Apparently, for karaage." Leo's mouth twitches, but he doesn't quite manage a smile. "I -- I don't mean the chicken. Sometimes when things are quiet, I forget it's still. Very unsafe for all of you, too." He shifts in his seat, teeth gritting slightly as he leans over to take the phone. "He almost did take Steve," he adds, more quietly, as he scrolls the menu. "I think he was very strong. ''Mutant'' Mall Goth."

"What are friends for?" Wendy echoes, more softly. She laces her fingers together, brows slowly dipping inward. "But -- do you think it will be like this always? I mean -- do you have any sort of. Plan. Can we ''make'' some sort of a plan? Is..." Her frown is deepening. "Is it going to be like this for you forever? That doesn't seem the most tenable. They could send ravers next time. Skaters." Her eyes widen, her tone hushing. "''Kpop stans''."

"C'mon, we can take Mutant Mall Goths," Polaris says, her smile sharp and quick, "and ravers and skaters, too. ''Kpop'' stans, though..." She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth. "...that might be a bit of a challenge! But I'm sure we're up for it." The wire rings on her fingers unwind and slither between her fingers. Her expression sobers here. "''Making'' plans has never been my strong suit, but I'm down to help a plan happen. And Luci is ''amazing'' at--making just about ''anything'' happen." She straightens a little, holding her head upright now. "I mean, if that's what Leo wants."

Leo's eyes are still fixed downward, expression somber -- until ''Kpop stans'' dissolves him into a startled chuckle, his eyes flicking upward swiftly. "I am not up to ''that'' level of challenge. Do they even have weaknesses?" He shakes his head, tapping at the screen and then passing the phone on to Wendy. "I don't -- have a plan. I didn't really plan for ''any'' of this. Luci was helping me sort out paperwork before COVID happened, but now --" He spreads his hands in front of him, lets them fall heavily to his lap. Winces. "I just started winging it and haven't stopped."

"Mmm." Wendy doesn't take long to make her selection and hand Polaris her phone back. She pulls herself upright, drifting over to the bookshelves to peer thoughtfully at the spines. "I don't really get that. Isn't he an actor? What does he -- ''do'', exactly?" She plucks a paperback off the shelf, examining it as though it might help her make sense of this; the cover features a busty woman with a sultry expression holding a glowing sword, and a lion in the background staring into the middle distance. Ilona Andrews, says the cover, ''Magic Bleeds''. "Thankfully, the Feds seem to be winging it a little bit, too. But that -- probably? Won't hold up forever."

"Their only weakness is fanvids," Polaris replies solemnly, "which is ''also'' their greatest strength. This is why no one has been able to defeat them." She accepts the phone back and places the order. "I mean, maybe the acting helps with being...well-connected? With powerful people?" She sounds more and more doubtful as she goes. "But he probably does other stuff, right? I dunno how a stage actor and a high school teacher could afford a house like this, especially--" She bites her lower lip and shakes her head, not finishing the thought. "Anyway, he got the ''Mayor'' on your side, maybe with time he could get someone higher up? Maybe through Steve, he hobnobs with all kinds of politicians and rich people who pay them."

"He is an actor," Leo affirms this with a slow nod of his head. A slow scrunch of his brows. "I think he's a good one?" Now ''he'' is sounding uncertain, too. His eyes flick up toward the ceiling. "Maybe he is actually a spy," he decides. "I really don't know. He was just so helpful. Besides, who is Dawson? A doctor? Jackson? A high school teacher? Who am ''I''? I think a lot of us have lives that are maybe. Not. Entirely predictable at a first look."

Wendy huffs out a very quiet laugh. "A nice quiet Mormon boy. That's what I've learned." She lowers her hand, lowering the book to her side as she meanders the periphery of the room. She stretches up onto her toes to pluck a statuette off the mantel, a tall black base with a medallion mounted on it, comedy and tragedy masks visible in relief on the nickel-plated face. "Someone thinks he's a good one." One finger touches the medallion lightly, gently setting it to swiveling. "I imagine -- with the world like it is. A lot of people have had to get used to --" She hesitates, watching the disc rotate slowly. "Wearing a lot of different faces. If we want to get by."

"You, Leo, are a gentleman and a scholar." Polaris settles her cheek more heavily in her palm. "Whatever faces you have to wear." Her eyes stray to the object in Wendy's hands. "Wearing a lot of faces is kind of what acting is all about. If we all have to do that to get by--maybe he's got a bit of an edge there." She rolls her shoulder. "And you've got all of us."
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