ArchivedLogs:Happy Little Worker

Happy Little Worker
Dramatis Personae Anette Vi Steve Broussard
In Absentia	2015-07-29 "I'm a punk, man. I'm just trying to crush the system from the inside."
Location <NYC> East Village
Historically a center of counterculture, the East Village has a character all its own. Home to artists and musicians of many colours, this neighborhood is known for its punk vibe and artistic sensibilities. The birthplace of many protests, literary movements, it is home to a rather diverse community and vibrant nightlife. Summer sucks, especially when it's hot and there's no point in sipping at an iced coffee. Violet has been out pounding the pavement all day, checking out every little music shop and book store she can find around the East Village in an attempt at finding more than very part time work. With her tattoos on display thanks to the torn t-shirt she is wearing and a couple of studded belts hanging askew around the tight blue jeans she's wearing, she certainly looks the counter-culture part. This particular late evening moment finds her shoving her way out of a head shop beside a bar. The door swings open a little too enthusiastically, and Vi steps out into the hot air, "Ugh, I swear, just... screw this town!" she yells, stomping one foot as she does. Someone's having a day. Steve spends his time in the village avoiding the few people who recognize him from the internet. His tail flicks around as if it has a mind of it's own. He hasn't been in this town for very long and he hadn't yet found a reason to really love it. He hears the exclamation and instinctively responds back. "This city can most definately suck it!" Yeah, summer does suck. Especially if you're burdened with a leather coat. Granted, it's a thin, lightweight one, but it's still a coat. Anette has it on over her shoulders, though opened in the front to cool her off somewhat. To most, she just looks a little out of place (this is New York though, so not even that out of place). Those who've seen her before know she's hiding wings underneath and talons in the sleeves. Still, she's casually walking down the street, mostly minding her own business until the sudden yell catches her attention. She recognizes Ink Girl's voice and grins, "Still not doing so well at the coffee shop?" Vi pumps a fist enthusiastically when someone, Steve it'll turn out, agrees with her. "Yeah! Fuck this place, man!" she calls, getting a little louder. Catharsis handled, she does a quick doubletake at recognizing Anette's voice. She spots her and does this weird little headbob of trying to spot the other woman's wings. "Dude, they posted hours today. I got six whole hours this week. Six! I'm supposed to live on that?" Shaking her head, a hand rakes back through her tangled brown hair. She's smiling though, looking quite approachable in spite of the punk rock look. Moving in the direction of the voice, Steve is interested in meeting the person it is attached to. He arrives in time to hear her complain about the amount of hours she is being scheduled. "Six hours of work? That'll get you a nice microwave box in Harlem or at least that's what I hear." Always full of humor, he can't help but try to ease the girls frustration. "No, you're not meant to live on that. You're supposed to be a happy little worker who will do what they're told for whatever table scraps are thrown their way. I don't last in those jobs very often," Anette replies, an old mix of humor and bitterness in her voice. As Steve approaches, she glances him over, eyes lingering on the tail peeking out. "Nice." That headbob that Anette got at first, when Vi was trying to figure out where her wings went, is repeated for Steve, though a bit lower. Tail-gawking. She doesn't have anything untoward to follow it up with, at least. "I'm pretty sure that a microwave box'd run me at least 20 hours a week where I'm working," she admits, with a slightly sardonic smile. She chuckles with a similar brew in her tone along with Anette. "Yeah, because I totally look the park of the happy worker bee. I'm a punk, man. I'm just trying to crush the system from the inside." She rolls her eyes at herself. Looking back at his own tail he shrugs. "I believe in the Ula approach these days." He then does a spot on impression of Uma Thurman in The Producers. "If you got, flaunt it. Step right up and strut your stuff." He realizes suddenly a woman's voice coming from a man's mouth might come across as odd. "Sorry. It's a habit..." "Your braver than I am," Anette says, slipping her hands out of her sleeves to reveal bird-like talons. "I usually have an easy enough time getting into trouble without advertising myself so I usually try to hide the mutant bits. I get harassed a lot less often that way." Anette looks towards Vi again. "What about you? You human? You don't look like a mutie." Vi is doing her best now to gawk at Anette's talons when she gets questioned on her genetic status. Her cheeks redden quite noticeably and her voice catches in her throat when she goes to reply. "I-uh," she coughs and looks self-conscious. "Uh, I don't know. I mean, well, I do know. It's more like..." She shakes her head and takes in a deep breath. "Yeah, I am." Poor Vi looks like she's just swallowed a bug. Talons. Way cooler than a damn tail. Steve's attention turns to Vi. "No worries. There are more of us than ever these days. Besides, the tail helps me get more views which helps keep me barely afloat in this damn town." Anette raises a brow at Vi's answer. "Hey, we're all on the same side here. Do we look like the Friends of Humanity?" She glances around a bit before slipping her hands back in her sleeves. "Just...trying to be more careful. Accidentally got into some trouble a few days ago, don't think it's too serious but I'm still trying to keep my head down." She clears her throat slightly and looks over towards Steve. "Views? What kind of views?" With a smile that veers into apologetic to the pair of more obvious mutants, she kind of shuffles where she stands, weight shifting from one leg to the other. She tucks her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans in perhaps an unconscious follow of Anette's cue. "Just not used to being asked. I guess because I don't usually hang out with people with wings and tails." She shrugs her shoulders, then peers over at Steve as well, eager for the subject to go to him. A red tinge comes across Steve's face. "I'm kind of a YouTube celebrity. A minor one. It helps pay the bills." His gaze wanders up towards the sky. "I um...I do voices. Really well." His look moves to the ground. "That's why I moved to this stupid town. So I can try and make it live instead of online." Anette looks over Steve again to see if he rings any bells. Nope. "Don't do much YouTubeing beyond music videos. But hey, to each their own. Voices...that's cool. I would have suggested LA for that but New York is a close second." She nods towards Vi. "Well, welcome to New York City. We're a little more common here. But hey, understandable. We've all had rough pasts." Helpfully, Vi suggests to Steve, "You could do a one man show on Broadway or something. I don't know if they do that, but hey." She then adds, "You don't want California. That's what I just ran away from; the Bay Area though, not LA." She gives one of those smiles of hers and after just a slight hesitation offers a hand first to Anette, "I'm Vi," she shares. Steve gets his turn next, "Vi." Steve shakes Vi's hand. "I'm from Texas so California isn't really a place I wanted to head to." He pulls a couple of cards from his pockets and hands one to each of his conversation mates. "Numbers on there. Not in like a romantic way or anything but if ya'll ever want to hang out give me a ring." Ya'll? Oh god the Texas had slipped out once again. "I have an appointment to be at shortly." He turns and heads off. "Maybe you can get a poptart box with those hours!" He then disappears into the crowd. Anette takes the card with a grin. "Well, he seems nice. Too bad we didn't find out more. I doubt he's just got the tail." She shrugs slightly and puts the card in her pocket. "You know, don't think I ever caught your name. I'm Anette," she says, turning to Vi with her hand held out to shake. Vi watches Steve go and then tucks his card into her pocket after looking it over. She turns her attention back to Anette and goes for the shake. "Vi," she shares. "So," the punky girl drawls, hands coming up to lace behind her head as she stands there. "You know I'm a coffee slinger. What's my new New York pal do?" Anette shrugs and laughs. "Whatever I can get. I don't usually last long at typical jobs though. I'm up for anything though, as long as it pays." She leans back slightly as she looks over Vi with a frown. "You know...you look like the last person who should be slinging coffee. I'd have thought you'd be in a band or something." That last comment draws quite the grin out of her, "Yeah, I tried that. I'm not nearly good enough to actually make that work. I still play though." Vi laughs and smooths her hair down. "I guess I kinda fit the stereotype," she admits. "Let me guess," the punk begins, "You got a problem with authority?" "Hey, whatever makes you happy. Besides, I thought punk wasn't supposed to be good." Anette stretches her arms out a bit. "Yeah, you do fit the stereotype. Probably why I'm still talking to you. Not usually a problem with authority. Maybe a little. Mostly just a problem with bullshit. Especially with the mutant thing. Which...makes finding a steady job even a little more trickier." Vi winces at that last bit, "Oh, right shit. I didn't even stop to think." She thumps the heel of a hand against her forehead in penance. "I'm pretty sure I gotta live up to my stereotypes here and say that authority is bullshit," she says, with a devilish little grin. Anette chuckles a bit and shakes her head. "Hey, I'm surviving. Got my own apartment, no roommates. Only smells like vomit really when it hits 90 outside. By then, the stoners light up so the smells masked anyway." Anette glances momentarily at the sky. "Oh hey, I've been here a while. I gotta run but it was really nice meeting you. We should get together for drinks some time." Vi nods her head, then brushing her hair back. "Yeah, no roommates is living the dream," she decides. "Here," she says, then starts rummaging in her pocket. She comes up with a receipt and a pen. She scribbles VI in big letters, then a phone number. "Call whenever. You seem pretty damn cool."