ArchivedLogs:Subway Preacher

Subway Preacher
Dramatis Personae Ash, Lucky
In Absentia	November 13, 2017 Part of the Future Past TP.
Location NYC Subway Car
Long, gray, and very tubular, there is very little to distinguish one subway car from another in New York City, aside from their serial numbers (if you care to stare at them long enough to commit it to memory). Seats line the walls and poles divide up the spaces between, allowing passengers to hold on during their speedy journey through the tunnels under the earth. There are ads on the walls to break up the monotony of gray and glass, political and commercial pops of color to distract the eye, allowing people something other than people to study while they ride. Tuka tun tuka tun tuka tun tuka tun. The walls rush past outside the windows of the subway car people remain scattered about the car trying to remain inside of their own personal bubbles of reality rush hour having just passed by the crowds beginning to thin. Near the front of his car a man in rather plain clothing waits with a small briefcase in one hand, visibly no further along in life then his mid twenties, shaking hands and making idle chatter with anyone who'll listen. Just looking at him he seems the friendly type your typical American. Though there are a number of people who just seem to look away from him completely as if they're completely disgusted with this rather kind individual. When the train pulls into a station, Ash gets on. He's a medium short young man with a close cropped goatee and tired looking eyes. His body is thin and wiry, but mostly disguised by the slightly baggy clothing he wears. A cinnamon brown hooded sweatshirt with no readable insignia covers his torso, the zipper pulled up to keep the chill of the November air out. The hood is pulled up and hides a crop of dark hair, kept close trimmed on the sides, with a little more length on top. His jeans were once blue, but now contain so much dirt infused in the fabric that they appear brown, too. Heavy, steal toed boots clomp to a stop near Lucky, his chin tucked low and drawn in, his eyes focused on the seat he chooses not to sit in, humming quietly to himself. The train isn't crowded, but it's a good spot to stand, so he stays there. Offering a smile and a nod towards the new arrival on the train Jason goes right back to his conversation something about how lovely the weather has been, and oddly enough the double standards of various rights movements vs the mutants situation. There's a bit of a fire of dedication backing his words as he speaks hiding his agenda of sorts in with the pleasantries of a common conversation. He's been lucky so far in that no one has outright assaulted him yet on these opinions but he's doing a fantastic job of keeping it all thinly veiled. Ash isn't really paying attention at first, his gaze more vacant than anything, but as Jason starts speaking about mutants and rights movements, his gaze is less distant and more focused. He doesn't look directly at him yet, but about an inch or two from his head, allowing him to understand him more clearly and actually make out what he's saying. There's a lot of doubletalk and dancing around the issue for a bit before Jason just up and says. "Sets a double standard if you ask me" getting a few idle looks of disgust from a few of the on lookers. There's nothing about him that says he's being rude of vindictive. "Be they black, white, man, woman, gay, straight, or otherwise we all deserve the same respect, the right to vote, to serve, to live" he's not outright mentioning mutants, but there's that whole level of inference to everything he says the way he describes the topics. Ash snorts quietly at the derision, shaking his head slowly at the scoffers. He turns his eyes on Jason's face and studies him for a moment, then lets his gaze drop once more. "To live's pretty much the most important thing," he offers, but it's not very loud. There's still not much for Ash to latch on to in the other man's speech, but he's listening. A man who's well beyond careful with his words Jason's doing his best to quietly force his own opinions on the other man, who at the start of this conversation was just as anti mutant as anyone else. Yet with an almost flood of quotes and rhetoric it's gotten most anyone who'll listen thinking giving him away as something of a politician and by the sounds a rather strongly pro equal rights for mutants sort. As the speechifying continues, Ash begins to lose interest. The words wash over him as he starts to turn away, careful with his footing as he releases the pole he's holding on to and moves to sit down on one of the seats. His shoulders and back are held tight and erect, as if he is stiff and sore. He settles with his hands on his knees and turns his attention to the indicator that tells him where the train is on its trek. Keeping up with this barrage of rhetoric Jason gets a bit more obvious with it, working his way over to the more obvious topics, working his already caught crowd into something of a small fervor. It's not much but through determination and calculation he's managed to get a few people from the middle ground more to his point of view and yet there are some already moving away from him in disgust. This goes on right up till Ash's stop comes up. And Ash's stop does come up. He gets back to his feet, slowly and surely, his back still ram rod straight. He rolls his head from left to right and the straightens, waiting for a few passengers to get out of the doors before he makes his exit.