ArchivedLogs:Defining Success

Defining Success
Dramatis Personae Heather and Paige
In Absentia	2017-01-08 "Sixteen dollars and a pair of boots."
Location <NYC> Busboys and Poets - East Harlem
A quiet, artsy spot nestled away on a side street in East Harlem, Busboys and Poets combines cafe and bookstore in a way a Starbucks tacked on to a Barnes & Noble could never achieve. The food is a solid, multi-national cuisine menu that caters to all kinds of dietary choices, and its fair-trade tea menu is extensive. Its weekend brunch tends to draw a large crowd, but there is ample enough seating both at tables and on its many comfortable armchairs and couches that at other times of the week there is never a wait. The walls are adorned with the work of local artists, and tucked in among and alongside the couches are rows upon rows of books, with a definite slant towards the political and the bohemian. It's still not super cold outside this winter, but cold enough that Heather is quite happy to get inside from her travels this morning. She is on her phone, tapping away for the time being while it charges in a nearby plug. Her journal, a purple, thick hardcover book, sits next to her with a pen and her recorder resting on top of it, as if she was doing some work and conversation earlier as well. She still wears the same sort of clothes that she was previously, though a few articles are different, they have the same sort of worn quality as if they were picked up through some kind of charitable means. There is presently no food on the table, but there is the largest size of coffee that they have, filled with as much cream and sugar as Heather could get away with. Dressed as per usual, the only thing different about Paige's outfit as she ducks into the cafe is her very unique ushanka hat. Crafted with care, the hat has slots through which her ears are able to stick out, and holes atop for her horns to display freely. There is also something different about the goat girl herself, however. Perhaps only appearing as a slight discoloration of her skin from a medium distance, a face-to-face interaction would reveal that she has short fuzzy hairs on any exposed piece of skin aside from the palms of her hands. She seems to be on a mission, looking about before happy recognition lights up her face when she sees Heather. Hastily as she can, the hooved girl makes her way over and sits across from her newest friend. "S-sorry I'm so slow." Heather looks up, her tinted goggles on at the moment and her eyebrows raise slightly. She records the words from Paige and then listens to them, "You are only as slow as average." She flips the goggles up onto her forehead to look closer at Paige and plays further on the recorder, "So you did grow fur. Very very practical. It can get cold out." She drinks back some of the excessively sweet coffee. She picks up her journal and puts it into her messenger bag so that her things are not quite as sprawled out on the available table space. Paige leans forwards, putting her elbows on the table and holding her arms up as her face smacks into her hands. "I texted you, too, didn't I? There were just so many texts, I..." She lets out a small sigh, shoulders rising and falling, before picking her head back up. "I didn't---I didn't mean to. You know, grow fur. I...it's new. I'm, uh, not sure what to think about it. How---how are you?" Heather flips the goggles back down, listens to her recording and plays, "You texted me a few messages and I texted you a few messages. It seemed like you wanted to make friendly conversation. I obliged." She pauses the recording and makes a sort of shrug before hitting play again with the recorder still in her hand, "On a scale from one to one hundred, I am a fifty nine. I am learning about this place. New York. How are you?" "On a scale of one to one hundred," Paige offers, employing the other girl's analogy. "I am a thirty-four. A few days ago, I think I was a sixty. Then I got sick, grew fur, and made a hell of a lot of promises I have no way of ever keeping." Ears press downwards for a few seconds. "Don't get me wrong--I -want- to follow through on these promises. I want to make her dreams come true so badly. But I just -can't-. There's no way---" Pushing herself back to lean against her seat, the goat girl cuts herself off and folds her arms. "Right, sorry. We were talking about you." There's a momentary pause as she chew on her lower lip, thinking. "A fifty-nine, huh?" Eyes meet Heather's. "Is there anything I can do to get that number up? Have you been eating? I mean, have you been able to get enough food? I'm--I, uh, I'm fresh out of money, to be honest. But, yeah, anything I can do to help you out at all?" Her countenance is one of genuine concern as she watches her friend. Heather seems to only occasionally glance at Paige's face while she is talking, only really listening once she plays the recording again. "I have not been eating consistently, but I ate well enough for the last twelve hours," she plays on the tape, "And do not worry about having no money. Because I have si-" She pauses the tape, and triumphantly pulls out a crumpled ten, five and one, placing them on the table, hitting play again, "-xteen dollars. That you can use for whatever you need. I have been selling things I find. And filling out surveys. I've been using the internet. You-" She puts down the coffee that she was drinking while the tape has been playing and pauses it again, to raise her eyebrows and keep them that way for a couple of seconds, as if she is play-acting showing interest. "-said you are feeling thirty-four. What are your promises you cannot keep?" Paige seems to be genuinely interested in Heather's status, ears twitching as she listens closely to the other girl. Eyes are cast down towards the money, speedily pulled out from her point of view. Her breath catches and her posture deflates as she realizes that is, if the bills aren't the exact same ones, the amount of money she gave the girl a week ago. Her face seems to be struggling to hold its composure as it grows read under the layer of fur. "No," she asserts weakly. "Those--that money is for -you-. My friend Mai has been feeding me. I-I don't need that. It's for you." But if Heather is faking interest in Paige's well-being, the goat girl doesn't notice. Ears wilt and anxiety is readily apparent on her face. "I told her that we would get a place to live. I told her I'd work everything out. We'd have electricity and heat. We'd get her a computer and a bean bag chair and I guess that means Internet too. I told---I told--" The horned girl seems to be choking up at this. "I told her we'd make a home together, you know? But there's nothing I can do." Her emotional state seems to be drifting heavily towards despair. "I told her we'd go to a National Park. To see the trees. But I can't even do -that-." Heather listens to the tape and takes the sixteen dollars back, offering Paige ten rapid nods of her head, and playing, "The money you gave me I had used. I used it to buy twenty four hours worth of food. I used that extra time to set up accounts online to make money. To research ways that I could make money. I have made more than that back by selling and doing online tasks in exchange for payouts. Your contribution has gone a long way." She separates the ten from the group of money, and puts the six back into her pocket. "A home together. Okay. That is a goal that you can work on. Is this person your girlfriend?" Heather pulls her journal back and starts writing down notes; it's as if she is just waving a hand and making them appear. She places the ten into the book as a bookmark and then closes it again, to look back up at Paige. "Do you want food? I want food." "Fiona?" The goat girl's tone seems astonished, caught off-guard, and her eyes widen. "Fiona? N-No, she's not--she's not my--my girlfriend," Paige stammers. "I just--just really want to help her out, you know? She's just a really good friend and I like her." She nods to herself once following what was a most well-put explanation. Then she blinks. "Wait, -what-? Twenty-four hours worth of food?! So for other people, that'd be like...like FIVE -DAYS- worth of food?! That--that---are you a fucking genuis? Like, what the fuck, how do you even -do- that?" After taking a deep breath to calm herself back down, she hesitates before sheepishly admitting, "I could...I could go for some food. But I'm not sure how I could work towards that goal---like can you imagine? Rent in New York City. Fuck." Heather furrows her brow slightly when she gets to the part of the playback where Paige asks if she's a genius, and she plays back, "Store brand peanut butter in bulk, damaged container: 7.00 for four pounds. That is over ten thousand calories. Everything else was for nutrition. Bread. Clearance milk. Some broccoli that I wanted after we talked about it. I got tired of peanut butter and broccoli sandwiches. The change I saved towards more multivitamins." She nods and then gestures towards the counter, playing, "I have been trying to figure out which food they have that is the most calories per dollar, but still cheap enough to buy with these ten dollars. And I can imagine the rent in New York City. I have looked it up." Ears twitching, Paige responds with a simple, "Oh. Wow. That's...that makes a lot of sense. I guess I'm not one for really thinking things through, you know?" She offers a weak smile with this poor attempt at humor. "Yeah...she--Fiona--she wants to, like, you know, camp out in some building that no one's using, you know? I don't---I don't really feel comfortable doing that especially if the electricity is still on as she's hoping. That just seems wrong. Using someone else's electricity that they're paying for? I don't know. I might be older, but I'm pretty sure she has things worked out better than I do. As for food...I have no idea. But, uh, if you're offering to pay, I will take whatever food item is cheapest." Heather opens her journal, tears out a page, gets up and zips over to the counter. The staff seems uncomfortable with the obvious display of mutant ability (unfortunately, as Heather cannot turn it off), and she places an order for two fritters with the written order, as they are the largest pastries that have the same cost as anything else. While this occurs, her tape recorder plays on the table where she left it. "Camping out in an abandoned building. I don't see the problem with it. But it will be better to get a place that is legal. That way nobody can ever kick you out or arrest you. My parents were arrested and it did not go well for them. And I was kicked out of my group home and that did not go well for me. So I want something I can control more next time. And money means control." She returns with the apple fritters, putting one in front of Paige and one in front of herself. Paige watches Heather in silence as she moves rapidly to the counter, the sound of her voice on the recorder playing as purchases the food. The blonde girl's posture slumps at the mention of legality and she removes her hat, placing it gently on the table. "Control," she echoes with a grateful nod as the other girl places food in front of her. "Thank you kindly," she comments before continuing. "Control is key, isn't it? If I had the money...but I don't. I am sorry to hear about your parents, though for you I am sure it has been quite some time. And I am terribly sorry for what happened at your group home. I'm, uh, guessing you're not someone who likes to dwell on the past as you seem pretty focused on the future -- on this 'control', but do you mind me asking what happened? To your parents and at the group home, I mean. If you don't want to talk about it, I understand." "I aged out of the foster system. The group home sent me away. They did not like me but had to deal with me. Then they stopped having to deal with me," plays Heather, though while it plays she spends time working one of the tangles out of her hair, "My parents were arrested for doing crimes. Also my mom stabbed my dad." This is all delivered as facts without too much emotion behind the response on the tape. "I will dwell on the past when I have the luxury. The present and future carry most of my problems right now." She taps her journal with her pen again a couple of times and then plays further, "Control is everything. How many roommates is an acceptable number of roommates to you?" Paige nearly chokes on her food at the fate of Heather's parents; clearly, this is not something she was expecting. "-What-? Oh fuck, I'm so sorry! That's--that's not something that you should ever have had to deal with." Despite the sincerity of her words, the blonde girl is regarding her companion with a curious gaze; the other girl's nonchalant tone of voice and actions seem divorced from the severity of her story. But that's something that she will have to look into later, if she does at all. Ears twitch at the question. "Uh...Well, I mean, how ever many is not too much? Like not too packed, you know? I only had one roommate for both years at college, but I don't see why I couldn't live with more? So long as we're not stumbling over each other to move around? And not too many that I never get to use the bathroom." This last part is important! Then her eyes narrow and she tilts her head. "Wait, what does this have to do with your parents being in jail?" "They did crimes and went to jail. I cannot advise doing crimes right now. So I don't think it's good to live anywhere illegally," plays Heather as an explanation for what jail has to do with the housing questions. She eats about half of the fritter while this plays. "It was a long time ago when I last dealt with my parents. I am not sure if I disagree with my mother's decision to stab my father. I go back and forth on the question." She writes down '3' as the maximum number of roommates for Paige in the notebook. "Maybe a two bedroom if you maximize your roommates and you are willing to share space." "Wait, a two bedroom what? Wait, what? You're kidding me, right?" The goat girl's question isn't accusatory. Rather, her tone sounds like exasperation. "I can't afford anything in this city, Heather. That--that's so far beyond me at the moment. And I'm not trying to live anywhere illegally, it's just...she means a lot to me, you know? All my friends do. How can I deliver on my promises -without- doing something against the law? Fuck. I'm such an asshole. I should never have told her that I would make all this happen. Shit." A grumpy, despairing Paige stuff some more of her fritter into her mouth. "I'm always willing to share space," she says, mouth somewhat full, before swallowing. "But space isn't the issue. Money -- you even said it yourself -- money is the issue. Look, I appreciate the help, but I don't think there's any way to figure this out." Heather shakes her head and furrows her untamed eyebrows after listening to the recording, "This is not about what you can do now. I cannot afford a two bedroom apartment either. I am establishing your win conditions, not the strategy that you need to get to them. You have to find something with the lowest cost per person, without passing your ability to tolerate the number of people." She taps on the page with the end of her pen and lifts the goggles from her eyes, "You want this Fiona to be your roommate. You would live in a place. I would join you if I had the finances set up and if I were an acceptable roommate. I can just as easily not. I am not picky, but I can be an efficient roommate option. And then a fourth. Someone who is regular human passing. That's a must. Must must must. Then you determine the needs of each of those four people." She pauses the tape and draws a cross. "How much money does each member need to make to achieve the win condition?" She devours the remainder of the fritter. Paige remains silent for a moment as she chews on the inside of her cheek. All the talk about trying to actually achieve her goal is causing her to feel a spike in anxiety and the future is a huge unknown. Paige doesn't really like those. Still, it would be stupid of her to turn down the assistance Heather is offering. With a small sigh, she leans forward. "Okay, okay," she concedes. "We--We, uh, have the human-passing one covered." Eyes narrow at the other girl as she says this, ears giving a flick; she would figure that Heather could fill this role, but does not argue. "We have Mai. She has a place, but...from what I gather, she's trying to find somewhere else. I think she's working two jobs just to cover it. I don't even know what her rent is. So four people in a two bedroom. Geez. Okay. What would that be...like $700 per person? And it's possibly they might raise the rent if they know there are -four- people there, not two. And then there's utilities. And this is all assuming we could find a place that's cheap and will take mutants." A deep, sharp breath. Anxiety. "'Win condition'," she muses aloud. Heather nods a few times and writes down the number 700 in each of the boxes, naming them Paige, Mai (who passes as human), Fiona, Heather "Timeslip" Brown (???). "I have found some apartments for cheaper before. But they might be undesirable. And I don't know where in town people want. I am not sure what square footage most people require." She nods a few times rapidly and says, "Some of the roommates will be able to pay more than others, of course. But maybe bring value for the rest in other ways." She squeaks a few words to herself quickly without using the recorder to translate them. "And each will have obstacles before getting to the needed number too. It sounds like Mai is the closest to the stable position. Then between you, Fiona and potentially me if that's what you choose,I do not know." Paige can't help but watch as words seem to magically appear on the upside-down page. "Cheaper than that? Why wouldn't we---" She looks up at Heather. "What makes them so undersirable? And, as for right now, you're not a question mark. Mai is pretty stable. She doesn't seem to have trouble with her current apartment, at least from what I've seen. I guess I could...try some networking?" Her statement ends in a misplaced inflection. "I mean, I don't have -that- many friends, but maybe I could ask Steve, you know? Or someone else." Biting her lower lip, she pauses, eyes scanning the page even though not much is written on it. "I understand the point you're making about value, but money is money and money is needed. We can't, uh, pay for a place in hugs and smiles. Unfortunate as that is." Heather chitters something- possibly a laugh?- when Paige says that they won't be able to pay for a place in hugs and smiles. She plays back, "You are right. But if I am willing to pay one hundred dollars for hugs and smiles, then perhaps I am willing to contribute eight hundred to your six hundred. More concrete: If I am too impatient to cook, which I am, but I enjoy hot meals at scheduled times. I could help cover some expenses for someone willing to do that. Our total has to cover the expenses of the apartment. But our individual contributions might be more or less. Understand?" She makes a big show of shrugging and then plays, "And I don't know why a place would be undesirable. I am from St. Louis and I lived in a group home until now and I currently live on transit. I just said I don't know because I don't. But I am good for anything. It's the passing regular human person who has to negotiate though. That's important." Nodding to the other girl, Paige replies. "I think I understand, yeah. And we could totally cook for you for certain. Mai can cook and I can make pasta. And you could do -soooo- many jobs - well, like, ones that don't require you to be sitting around for hours on end. And I'm guessing you'd also be a really quick learner?" Sighing wistfully, she continues. "Gods, you could do so many things, you know? So it would make a lot of sense that you'd be bringing in more money. And...fuck, you only sleep an hour at a time. You could be doing so many jobs." Apparently the blonde girl hasn't given much thought at the moment to the fact that Heather would likely not want to be working all the time. "You're registered and all, right? I'm just waiting on mine to get updated, then maybe...maybe we could do this." She leans back in her seat, looking at the ceiling. "Still kind of seems like a pipe dream, though, you know?" "Yes. I can do task based work and I am a fast learner and I am smart," plays Heather, matter-of-factly. "I am registered. My number is three. It means nothing to me. Maybe I am the third person who registered." She taps her fingers on the table for a few moments and then plays, "It might seem like a pipe dream. But if you fall short of the goal, so long as you try, you will reach something. Maybe a one-bedroom for four people. Works for me. Not as much for others I think." "Three? You?" More lip biting. "I guess that makes sense. And, uh, no you're not---that doesn't mean you're the third person who registered. It's a classification number based of your mutations," Paige offers with a shrug. "Not sure what I am yet. Used to be a zero. It would make things -so- much easier if I still was, but I can't really hide the horns and hooves. Or the ears." Apparently she's forgotten about the fur she has most recently acquired. I guess...I guess this could work. Maybe not as quickly as I want to, but it could work. It'd be better than the sewers anyways, right?" She lets out a long sigh, reaching her hands behind her head. "One-bedroom for four people...it'd have to be a big bedroom. I have no issue with sleeping on the floor if it lets others sleep in a bed, you know? Ah, fuck, furniture. That's a thing too." Eyes, momentarily staring at the ceiling, flick down to Heather. "But...you're right. We'll reach something. Maybe just a roof, some heat, and bit of electricity." This all said with a small wry grin. "The sewers? Is there housing down there? I bet it's cheaper than on the surface," plays Heather, she checks her cup for any remaining coffee, but alas, she drained it all earlier. A grimace flashes across her face and she writes on the torn out page she ordered the fritter with and dashes off again, leaving Paige alone with an impersonal mechanical device. "I want the goal to be two bedroom. Aim for what works best, not what will be adequate. But I don't mind sleeping on the couch. Or on the floor. Or anywhere that is not a subway train." She returns, without coffee, but with sugar and creamers. "Furniture is fine. I find furniture all the time when searching for things to sell." She taps the stop button on the recorder, then squeaks and plays, "So long as you are not picky." Paige is sitting up again with a straight posture when Heather returns. "The sewers would only be an option for me. I'm not dragging Fiona or Mai down there with me. They've already made it clear that they're not interested. I think Mai is even frightened a bit," she remarkes, this last part accompanied by a shrug. "I am sure it would be cheaper, but who knows, right? But, like I said, that's my fall-back plan. For me." She finishes off the last of her nearly-forgotten fritter. "I'm not picky when it comes to anything right now. Aside from just ... wanting a roof over my head and being in a place I feel safe." Heather flips her journal back a number of pages in order to make a note next to where she has, 'Paige: Gave me 16.00 and a pair of boots. Curious about wizards (cannot help as their ways are a mystery),' written, adding, 'Would live in a sewer.' And then she quickly flips back to where she left off on the current page. She then plays on the recorder, "Good. Not being picky is good. I am not picky and that's why I'm going to succeed." Unfortunately, this might not be encouraging, given Heather's general state of being. The fast mutant's actions are too quick for Paige to follow, but her words are not. "Succeed? Succeed at what? Life? Life isn't about succeeding -- you know that, right?" Two fingers reach up to scratch at the corner of her eye; once done, however, they linger, brushing against the fur before dropping back down. "It's about---Geez, I don't know. You know what? Nevermind. I have no idea what life is about. I'm a mess, for fuck's sake. I'm not going to succeed. But at least I have a goal, right? At least I can work towards that and have a little bit of hope even when everything's going to shit." This last part is accompanied by a shrug. "Life is all about succeeding," replies Heather's recorder, "That's what having goals is for. So you have something to succeed at. But you have to have goals that are possible to succeed. So that you can succeed." Her coffee arrives, and she starts dumping the cream and sugar inside as soon as it's brought over. "But don't worry. You will succeed. Because now you have a win condition linked to me. And I will succeed." Paige appears to be struggling with the last part of what Heather played back to her. It would be such a load off of her mind - having someone else to share her burden with. Yet it seems wrong or it seems wrong, at least, to Paige. "Is there some kind of catch to all of this? I can't really put my finger on why you're helping me in the first place. I understand that you're looking for a place, too, but it sounds like you could have that covered all by yourself in practically no time. I mean, yeah, you'd probably need assistance with the negotiating, but, like, it seems like you'd only need someone to speak your words for you, you know?" Letting out a sigh, she holds up a hand and begins apologizing. "Sorry. I'm just...Well, I'd say not used to people offering me help, but that'd be a flat-out lie. And people have -provided- me with so much help before, too. But this...Why?" "You gave me 16 dollars and a pair of boots," is all that Heather plays in reply to Paige's question. She shrugs and then, after looking around, puts a straw into the coffee to drink it that way. It will be easier than trying not to dump it on her face at super speed. "As for doing it on my own. There are very many things that I am very good at. And there are things that I am very bad at. I am very good with numbers. I am very bad with people." For once, instead of objecting, the goat girl lets out a sharp, amused-sounding puff of air. "Sixteen dollars and a pair of boots," Paige muses, grinning at Heather. "Thank you. It's--it's nice to hear that the small things are, you know, appreciated," she remarks sheepishly. "Your people skills aren't all -- Okay. They could use a little improvement. But, hey, we're all slow to you--" Here there's a shrug. "--so I don't blame you. But, if you don't mind, I'd like to posit that you've been good with me. And I'm a person. Just something to think about, you know? Heather nods deliberately to Paige. "I will consider this information," is played on the recorder. She looks to her phone, which is nearly fully charged. "To most non-mutants, my way of conversation is annoying. To most mutants it is annoying. To me it is a little bit annoying. But it's a problem I applied myself to. My goal was communication. I am not picky about the quality of the communication, only the effectiveness. And I succeeded." She slurps from the straw. "I guess I'm not most mutants, then. I don't find your way of talking annoying. To be completely honest with you," Paige remarks, offering Heather a surprised expression. "I'd imagine that -my- way of talking is much more annoying to -you- than yours is to me. Either way, that--" A hand gestures to the recorder. "--is indeed effective. From what you've told me, I would say that you are a -very- successful person." She looks as though she wants to say more, but she remains silent, ears twitching. "You do talk really slowly," admits Heather through the tape recorder, "But everyone does. It's low and long and slow. It used to be scary. But now nothing is scary." She chews on her nails for a moment nervously and then continues, "For a moment when my hand touched my mother's. Right before she stabbed my father. Time stopped. It felt like it stopped forever. It's easier when I remember that. Now is much easier than then." Paige's ears droop as she gives Heather a pained look, but instead of responding immediately she simply runs her fingers through her hair along the sides of her head. Letting out a anxiety-ridden breath, she says, "I'm glad it's easier now. And I'm glad...that time didn't stop for you. If this all works out, maybe we can work on making other, easier, memories together. You know, ones with friends and good company, right? Maybe you'll figure out a way for it to be easier all of the time, who knows?" Heather unplugs her phone once it lights up as being 100% charged. "Maybe you are right. That would be nice to make those kinds of memories. But one goal at a time." She picks up her coffee and plays, "I am going to have to go. This place is too expensive to eat more than one meal at. But propose my idea to Fiona and Mai. If they are on board, we will know our parameters." "I'll talk to them," Paige replies as she starts standing up. "-Thanks-, Heather. You're a good friend. I...I'm very grateful to have someone working with me on this. Let's keep---I'll be in touch, alright?" Then again, "Thank you." Inwardly, the goat girl marks a success for herself. "We'll work something out."