ArchivedLogs:Small World

Small World
Dramatis Personae Kal, Rasputin, Toru, Trib
In Absentia	2014-01-27 It really is!
Location <NYC> Sunrise Apartments - Lobby - Clinton
The lobby of this apartment building is shabby, to say the least. The tiling has not been replaced in quite some time, chipped and coming up in many places; there is a faint smell of mildew coming from somewhere by the stairwell. The exterior door has a large crack in it of questionable origin, and the paint is peeling on the interior walls. The elevator is often slow to arrive, though at least the thing /runs/ alright. For now. Outside, it is /balls/ freezing. It's a bit late in the night, but this doesn't stop /business/ from happening. Actually, it's a better time for it, really. A four armed Arab man opens the door to the Sunrise, letting in his assistant..a fluffy white cat. Rasputin is glancing around the room, before turning to Kal, speaking. "What floor is it? Three?". Kal calmly nods, speaking, as they head towards the elevator. "Three. Hope he's home.". It is not a fit night out for man or beast, which makes the appearance of the two visitors all that much more curious. And ordinarily, Trib would be more curious as he comes in the door right behind the four-armed man and his...pet? Dressed in jeans and a grey hoodie under his army flack jacket, the boxer is wearing thick hiking boots that are crusted with salt from the sidewalks. In his gloved half-hand, he carries a bag from a nearby restaurant that smells of Chinese takeout, and maybe some sort of brownie. The big man pauses to pull the door shut behind him, making sure it latches into place before he approaches the elevator. The mention of the floor number gets him turning to inspect the four-armed man and the fluffy white cat. Something about it seems familiar. Maybe it's the voice. "Who you lookin' for?" is probably meant to be polite. "Triiiiiiib!", is the first thing Rasputin shouts over, as Kal sighs. "How many damn people do you know?". Rasputin laughs, grinning. "A lot. Anyhow, we're looking for a guy named Gabe Vermont? Lives up on third? Not the only guy I know who lives on third, either. Friend of mine does as well. Well, kind of friend. Maybe.". Kal sighs, as he nods. "Do you know his room number or if he's home? Would be a great help.". /Now/ the voice registers, and Trib peers down at the fluffy cat with a hard glare. Because fluffy is not exaclty Sunrise standard. Then he's actually crouching, narrowing one eye at the cat. "Tweets? Is that you?" He shakes his head, and there's a hint of a smirk as he straightens back up. "Didn't recognize you without your feathers." The question gets a deep knit of the boxer's brow as he considers. "Is that the guy who's got them tattoos?" he asks. "Skinny, looks kind of whacked out?" He describes the guy in the same tone one would describe a used car. The revelation that Rasputin knows someone else in the building gets a surprised huff, and then the boxer is looking sidelong at Kal. "Who's your caterpillar friend?" Rasputin laughs, nodding. "Yep, this is my usual body!". As Trib describes him, Kal solemnly nods. "That's him. We need to..talk to him.". Rasputin is more gleeful, as he introduces Kal. "This is Kal. He's a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of me. Actually, they're all my friends, so I guess I could just consider him a friend? I don't know all this works.". Kal just laughs, as he adds. "Also, caterpillars have more than four arms and two legs. I'm afraid I am not one. Now, do you know if Gabe is home?". Trib nods. "Yeah, I know that guy. He lives on my floor." He punches the button for the elevator, shifting his food bag to his left hand. He grunts a greeting when Kal's introduced, then huffs a laugh at the correction as he shrugs his shoulder. "I don't have fuckin' much to do with him, an' I just got here, so I ain't got a fuckin' clue if he's home." Which is another matter-of-fact statement, delivered to Kal with a small hike of his eyebrows. "Probably, though. From what I seen, he don't fuckin' go nowhere." He jerks a thumb at the elevator doors as they ding. "You gonna come up and see?" "Alright then.". Kal says calmly, as he and Rasputin head towards the elevator. Even with his four arms, Kal doesn't take up /too/ much room, as they're usually folded. Rasputin takes up considerably less. But is very chatty. "So, how are you doing? Your food smells like..chinese, and chocolate. Did I guess right?". Trib takes up a fair amount of room, but he's conscientious enough to pull himself to one side of the car to make as much as he can available. Also, he might be trying to avoid stepping on Rasputin, a task he eventually abandons, bending to scoop the cat from the floor and parking him on one of his wide shoulders. "Jesus. I can't go around talkin' to my fuckin' ankles," he rumbles, eyes crinkling as he ruffs his finger against the cat's chin before he remembers that he's a /person/, and jerks his fingers away. "Been good," he grunts in answer to the question. "Got some good news today, an' I think Bo -- my boyfriend's gonna be happy about it. So I got us a celebration dinner." He rattles the bag and nods at Rasputin's assessment. "Yeah. I got some hot an' sour soup, some kung pao, some of them pot-stickers, an' brownies from that place around the corner with that chick with the eyebrow ring." Because Rasputin totally knows who that is, obviously. "What about you? The fuckin' streets must be murder on your fuckin' paws right now." As Rasputin is lifted up, ze gives no struggle, but Kal's eyes dart, as he closes in a bit closer. Rasputin doesn't seem to notice, though. "Oh, man, you know a person named Bo? The guy who I know who lives somewhere up here's name starts with a Bo, too. Weird.". And it just, slips past Rasputin. Then again, large world to Rasputin, so. "Yeah, it's pretty cold out there. But, we actually drove, so. All's good. Oh man, I wonder what Gabe has in his fridge.". "Huh." Trib's reaction to Rasputin's information gets a hard clamp of his mouth, and he eyes the cat sidelong, turning his chin ever so slightly to keep the fluff in his sight. "That's kind of weird. But I guess there's a lot of fuckin' people in this buildin'." He shrugs, and wrinkles his nose at the confession of how they arrived, and he rolls his non-cat-bearing shoulder. "You could always get some of them bootie things that I seen those skinny whores on Fifth Avenue puttin' on their dogs. They'd fuckin' keep the salt an' chemical shit off 'em." He frowns. "I don't know if they make 'em for cats, though." He frowns, then, and brings up his bag to dig around in it. "You hungry? You can fuckin' have a pot-sticker if you want. No sauce, though, 'cause they make it strong for me, an' I love that shit." "Well, yeah, it's a big world.". Rasputin nods, as Kal just stands there, completely quiet. And uncomfortable. "Oh man, a pot-sticker. I think I /love/ you. But man, those bootie things are hideous.". Rasputin laughs, as ze looks towards the bag. "But yeah cheap apartments usually have more people than the expensive ones.". "I thought it was a small world," Trib says, his tone wry. "Ain't that what the song says?" He fishes out a potsticker, hot and spicy-smelling, and holds it up for Rasputin to nom on. Kal's discomfort is noted with a small hike of the boxer's eyebrows, and he snorts. "I bet you could find some nice ones," he assures Rasputin. "An' probably get 'em for free, if you said somethin' to the clerk an' beat it before they figured what was up." He smiles a hard sort of smile for this duplicitous plan, and tips his head at the doors as the elevator pulls to a stop. "/This/ fuckin' buildin's cheap as they come," he rumbles. "Fuckin' full of junkies an' psychos." As the door stop, Kal's relieved and /immediately/ heading for the next door. Rasputin's waiting for Trib to carry him out, apparently, as he bites on the pot sticker. Still speaking unhindered, though. "It's a small world after alll, it's a small world after alll, it's a small small worlllld. Oh man, psychos? What type of psychos? Good, bad, weird?". "Pretty sure there ain't no /good/ psychos," Trib rumbles as he exits the car, walking a few feet down the hallway to allow Rasputin time to get the best of the potsticker before he drops to one knee and lowers his shoulder so the cat can hop down. "He's down there," he says of their quarry, motioning down the hall. "But this door is my fuckin' stop." He motions at the door to 311 as he stands back up, fishing his keys from his pocket. "Don't fuckin' burn the place down, yeah?" he says, eyes crinkling as he slides the key into the lock and turns it. To no avail, though, as the door remains firmly sealed when he turns the knob. "Motherfucker," he growls, and rears back a foot to kick at the door. "Bones! Fuckin' unlock the goddamned door!" As Rasputin finishes the potsticker, ze leaps down, nodding, waving a tail, as hir and Kal begin to head off down the hall. Until Trib shouts. And Rasputin freezes, turning. "Hey, the guy I know is named Bon- oh. OH. OHHHHH. Awkward.". Kal is meanwhile facepalming with his upper left hand, shaking his head. "Are you really that dense, Rasputin?". Rasputin shrugs hir head. "Maybe, I don't know?". There is a thump from inside the apartment, followed by the sound of feet rushing, with unsteady pacing, to the door. The door is unlocked in a hurry, Toru sticking his head out to look around and grumble, "What the /fuck/, man?!" when he doesn't see anyone there other than Trib and-- Kal and Rasputin. The pair gets bit of a /glare/ from the teen and what he surely intends as a very purposeful /look/, before his attention is turned back to Trib. "Scared the shit outta me." And with that, the teen vanishes into the apartment. The look is not unnoticed by Trib, especially when Rasputin chimes in, and the boxer throws a look of his own over his shoulder to regard the cat carefully as he follows Toru inside. "Yeah," he drawls as he enters the apartment. "You're /real/ fuckin' scared of me." He leans out the door, then, to offer a final lift of hand to cat and caterpillar, and slides back inside, whistling a slow, somehow sarcastic-sounding version of 'It's a Small World.'