ArchivedLogs:Talk About It

Talk About It
Dramatis Personae Bruce, Rasa
In Absentia	2015-09-09 "I'm...I'm afraid that's not the best idea. It's not safe, I might--"
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to plentiful artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. The daylight in the city sizzles the streets and drives people inside. Even after the sun disappears behind the buildings, the heat lingers, bringing customers into the cafe in droves. It helps that college students have started taking up resident in the dorms once more and still have free time to explore the city. They have not had the summer's experience with the disappearance of the effects of caffeine, so are less concerned with not getting what they are paying for. Some have even come to Evolve, partially to see what the mutant buzz is all about, and others to be themselves with impunity. While some might think it odd to employ one of the more recently named mutant terrorists, it is really not a risk when it comes to Rasa. The teen looks nothing like the fuzzy blue individual from the fuzzy videos posted on the internet and news stories. Instead, ze is a black and brown mix of sulking, thin and hard, a bit taller than hir standard stature. Hair pulled back straight at the base of hir skull, dressed in a long sleeved mesh shirt of black with dark navy jeans underneath, ze clears tables with forced industry, like ze is trying to get hir mind off things. The more ze succeeds, the more brown hir visage and eyes become. Ze raises hir gaze when more people come in and offers an almost cheery greeting, arm still wiping down the table on autopilot. Bruce hesitates momentarily outside the door, then, hunching his shoulders a bit, presses his way inside. He wears a pink seersucker dress shirt with top button undone and sleeves rolled neatly to elbows, and light gray linen trousers. His new glasses, though still black and square-ish, have thinner frames than the old ones. He approaches the counter and eyes the menu board with interest. To the barista he offers a nervous smile. "Hi! Can I have two scoops of your salted caramel vegan ice cream?" Rasa drags over the dirty dish basin to the back and returns with a tray of fresh dishes, especially those of ice cream bowls. Ze arrives just as the barista asks him if he would like that ice cream in a dish, cone, or a to-go bowl. Ze starts to move the bowls where they are within easy reach of the ice cream tubs when ze sneaks a glance in the direction of the customer. Ze pauses and tenses, that distracted brown starting to disappear. Ze sets down the bowls and turns to face him, staring at him. Hir eyes narrow. Ze says nothing, yet. "Oh, a cone will be fine, thank you." Bruce produces a shiny purple mylar wallet with green edging and takes out a twenty dollar bill to hand to the barista. He glances at Rasa, offers hir a smile, but show no signs of recognition. "I met Shane a while back, and told me you had excellent vegan ice cream. I've been meaning to come here for weeks." The barista scoops him up his cone before ringing him up and giving him the change. "You." Rasa's eyes narrow once more as hir hands spread on the counter in a particular manner, gripping the surface. "You... know Shane. Of course you know Shane. Everyone knows Shane. Does Shane know you?" Ze wrinkles hir knows as ze considers, shoulders rolling, one at a time, a small twitch between hir shoulder blades. "You..." Ze shakes hir head. "Thank you." Bruce accepts both his ice cream and his change, dropping all of the coins into the tip jar. He looks to Rasa, nonplussed. "I ran into him at another cafe, Montagues. I mistook him for B. Terribly embarrassing--for me, anyhow. Probably quite amusing for him." His thick black brows wrinkle slightly. "We're not very /well/ acquainted, if that's what you mean? "No, I meant... well, the part about the park. Central Park. A couple weeks ago." Rasa straightens up a little and keeps hir hands firmly planted on the surface of the counter. Ze fidgets. "Yeah. Shane gets more amusement out of the twin thing than B, but there are days she enjoys it, I'm fairly sure." Ze inhales deeply. "I just... Man, do you want to talk about this right here, or maybe we could find a booth - or a big open plain in the middle of no where?" If Bruce makes any attempt at all to conceal his shock, he fails utterly. His face blanches and his mouth drops open. "Th-the park? I--was Shane there? That is to say--" His dark brown eyes skid sideways, as if he expects the other patrons to ambush him. "Talk about it?" A faint sheen of sweat develops on his forehead. "I'm...I'm afraid that's not the best idea. It's not safe, I might--" He starts when a bit of half-melted ice cream drips down onto his finger. "Sor--excuse me, I really have to go. Perhaps--another time?" He sounds both terrified and sincere as he makes a beeline for the exit. " "No. I was there." Rasa replies, jaw setting. As Bruce turns to leave, ze scowls, hands still pressed hard against the countertop. "Fine, leave," ze hangs hir head and grumbles quietly as he takes off.