ArchivedLogs:Claustrophobia II

Claustrophobia II
Dramatis Personae Anette Billy
In Absentia	2015-07-21 Anette and Billy get stuck in an elevator together.
Location <NYC> Sunrise Apartments - Elevator - Clinton
Ancient and rattly, this elevator is cramped inside. Its dim light flickers constantly, and its door opens manually, a creaking metal grate always a little stiff in its tracks. There has been berber carpeting laid down, dingy and tan, but it is coming up at the corners and often sports a few questionable stains. It hasn't been too hot today but the humidity's been making the air miserable. Probably why Anette, for the first in a long time, has been out without her jacket, leaving her wings free and visible to all. Though the talons that have recently replaced her hands might have something to do with it, too. Still, when she slips into the elevator on the bottom floor, she can't help but fan herself a bit with her wings, despite wearing nothing but a tank top and shorts. The white fabric of Billy's cotton polo is softened by perspiration. An obvious mutant on a hot summer day as well, as the blonde's crisp white tennis shoe leads the way into the filthy elevator, the compartment's mildewy odor is replaced by an all-cleansing aura of chemical cleaning products. Despite being short-sleeved, Billy still wears a wrist length white leather glove to avoid permanently bleaching anyone else's property. He brings one of his gloved hands to gently brush away the glisten of sweat from his forehead. The action is relaxed, as is he until his body jolts to a stop. His eyes lock onto Anette grimly, but it's too late. The elevator doors close behind him. Anette hadn't even been paying attention. She had been digging in her purse for something when she was suddenly overcome by the scent of bleach. She looks up just in time to see the doors close and the elevator lifts up. "Hey Clorox! How's it going? Haven't seen you since ...since I punched you in the face!" She grins as she watches Billy, leaning up against the wall. “Charmed, I’m sure,” Billy replies curtly. Sidestepping, he turns to face the elevator doors and clasps both hands in front of him. “Try not to breath too much,” he chirps, flicking his eyes down and up Anette, “Wouldn’t want you to get sick.” The elevator's never been the smoothest of rides so the bumps and light jolts don't concern Anette too much. "Ah, I've breathed worse. So what was up with that day? I really thought me punching you would've gotten you to open up a bit. I mean...I know we've never been friends but it's not as if I get my kicks beating you up. I was hoping you'd punch back and maybe learn something in the process." As she waits for a response, the elevator jerks to a sudden stop and the light flickers a moment before dying completely. "Son of a..../really/?!" Waif-like as he is, Billy does have to reposition his feet, planting them firmly so as to not jossle around with ever bump. Anxiety from being in such close proximity to Anette causes him to perspire more, and his breathing to quicken. The antiseptic smell increases as antimicrobials bite at the metal box's air. Sighing audibly, Billy jangles his keys in the darkness. He presses his thumb down into a small, chrome pen-light keychain to produce a thin, barely-helpful beam of white light, "I literally can't even with you, Anette." He glares in the dim light, fully blaming her for this situation. Anette doesn't seem as bothered with lack of light as Billy is, her pupils expanding massively to make up for the lack of it. Which probably doesn't help her look less threatening. "Hey! I had nothing to do with this! Not my fault this piece of shit building is falling apart. And you can't even -what- with me?" she replies, slumping onto the floor and making herself comfy...and subtly lifting the top of her tanktop to cover her nose and mouth. Flustered, Billy breathes heavily. His eyes water not from the growing sting in the air, but out of frustration. “You probably like, broke it with your claws.” His well-groomed eyebrows rise up into his forehead, “Seriously? That floor is gross.” He crosses an arm over his chest to avoid touching any of the walls, which he turns the tiny flashlight over to inspect, “My phone is upstairs. I just ran to my car for a sec.” Slowly, the flashlight’s beam makes its way back to Anette. Billy stares over at her expectantly. "Well, maybe if you sat down it wouldn't be as bad." Joke or serious suggestion, it's hard to tell at this point. "Yes Clorox, when you had your back turned, I phased through the wall and clawed at the elevator until you got stuck. Or maybe your toxic fumes are messing with the mechanics." She sits quietly until the flashlight lands on her. "Don't look at me. I missed my last few bills, I have no phone right now." Billy shakes his head at that, wrinkling his nose, "I just assumed you used burner phones." Frowning deeply, the blonde carefully lowers himself to the ground. His white boat shorts, which had gone to a little past mid-thigh, get shorter as he sits. He makes an audible grunt of disgust. Anette shakes her head. "I like to have internet and apps. Can't afford it but I like it." She watches as Billy sits down and keeps her eyes on him for a bit before continuing on. "So why didn't you fight back?" Maintaining his frown with very little effort, Billy half-heartedly shrugs, “I don’t-” He presses his mouth into a thin line, collecting his thoughts until he sighs out in a tone of surrender, “I’m just not like you.” Anette nods slightly as Billy states the obvious. "You're not like me in a lot of ways. Which way are you referring to this time?" She continues to keep her shirt over her face as she breathes. Billy widens his eyes, lifting both hands in a dramatic shrug. The pen light's beam bounces around the ceiling of the stuck elevator, "I guess I just don't have the chip on my shoulder that you have. Everybody likes me. I don't have to ...punch them." Anette laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. "No Billy. Everybody does not like you. Maybe everyone you've met does and even that's stretching it. There are hundreds, thousands of people out there that hate you and would love nothing more than to see you dead. There are so many people out there who don't care that you're about as harmful as a butterfly and would probably curl up in a fetal position and cry if someone so much as looked at you scary. They hate you because you're different and you're special and you're more than them. And this is on top of your typical New York mugger or thief who will pick on anyone with a wallet." She looks over Billy a moment, frowning slightly. "This is more than liking or wanting to punch people. This is about realizing the world out there sucks and learning how to stand up for yourself." “Than tell me,” Billy cocks his head somewhat, “Why is it that the only person who ever seems to eff up my day is you?” Pushing off the ground, the blonde can’t sit any longer. He paces the short distance from one corner to the other, “Can’t you like, climb up out of the ceiling or something?” He flaps a hand up above them. "What have I done to you that was so terrible?" Anette asks. "I fuck your day up because, sure, I'm rough and abrasive but I also don't coddle you. Life sucks, get over it." She stands up and glances towards the ceiling. "My luck I'll send the elevator plummeting." She coughs and begins fanning the bleach smell from her face. "I'm starting to consider naming you mustard gas..." “No,” Billy shines the light along the ceiling’s perimeter, “Life doesn’t suck, Anette.” He turns to re-evaluate her, ignoring her discomfort, “That’s a choice we make.” He comes closer, unintentionally breathing out more and more of the noxious chemicals into her face, “Do you ever think maybe if you weren’t so rough and abrasive, the world wouldn’t be so rough and abrasive towards you?” Anette spreads her wings and blows the fumes back towards Billy. "Yes, because the Friends of Humanity and anti-mutant militias would back down and make peace if I just smiled more. This isn't Sesame Street. I'm abrasive because I have to be. You protect yourself by pretending everything is peachy keen, I protect myself by keeping the world at a distance. And when the shit hits the fan, I know what to do." Other than looking great with a breeze blowing through his hair, Billy is unaffected. “No, Anette. I protect myself by getting an education, by getting a job, and /by paying my effing phone bill/. I’m a contributing member of society. Every time I wait in line for coffee or buy groceries or go to the post office, I make people less afraid of mutants.” He pauses, peering over at Anette with pity in his eyes, “All /you/ do is perpetuate your own prophecy.” The dim, urine-colored light in the elevator returns and with a shake, the tiny box moves half-an-inch up before opening its doors. Billy doesn’t wait for his floor. Instead, shaking all over from the confrontation, he pushes past and flees out into the hallway. He’ll take the stairs.