ArchivedLogs:Shrinks

Shrinks
Dramatis Personae Daken, Charlie Torres
In Absentia	16 April 2015 '
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. It's Thursday night at Evolve, and that means that those that want to get an early start on partying are filtering in, and out, from the nightclub above the coffee shop. One of those peoples is everybody's favorite menace, Daken. He's arriving from the club, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a fishnet top with a thin black jacket thrown over it. He heads straight for the line, apparently his preferred chaser is a hot chocolate. Charlie has made a quick stop-over for a snack on her way home and is already settled in at a table with a chocolate-frosted doughnut and a mocha to match the chocolate theme. She has peeled out of her hoodie and scarf, leaving these thrown over the chairback behind her, though her ears are still half-hidden between her teal wool hat and long hair. The rest of her outfit is a simple black tee with a white tree-pattern across its front and a pair of camping pants. Daken's nostrils flare for a moment on his way out, and he instead turns to take a seat across from Charlie. "{Hey there.}" he greets with an easy grin. "Good to see you're getting out and about. Always good to take a break from work." Charlie lifts her glass a little higher in greeting on its way to taking a sip. “You're everywhere lately. I take plenty of breaks. Just not always out. Like I said, it's a whole production for me to come to the city.” Her eyes shift over her shoulder at her discarded layers. "I'm always everywhere, if you believe hard enough." Daken replies with an easy wink, sitting back to take a sip from his drink. "I normally head out around Chelsea, but I've been there too many times. You mentioned this place, so bam. I'm here instead of practicing my forms tonight." “What, I'm supposed to clap for you like Tinkerbell now?” Charlie arches a brow, hands obviously busying themselves otherwise with doughnut and coffee. “I'm sure you can do that another time if you need, though.” "A little mock enthusiasm would be nice, yes." Daken raises his own brown and flashes an easy smirk. "You know I love it when people pet me on my ego. You should come partying with me sometime. Can get you all gussied up, go talk to that Tag fellow that does Dusk's wings. Take you from being the garden hare, to the Playboy Bunny." His gaze turns down to himself and that smirk transforms into a thoughtful frown. "I should go see them, closest thing to a tattoo I'll be able to get." “Man, last thing that needs any petting around here is your ego. Might not be enough room in here for any of the rest of us, it gets any bigger.” Charlie snorts at the next suggestion, nostrils flaring visibly. “I like gardens and I /am/ a hare. What I want with being anything to compare to that demeaning sexist bullshit?” The doughnut dunks into the coffee before she takes a bite. “Never did ask Dusk how permanent all that colouring is. He shows up with different, but I don't know if it's him being bored or that wearing off.” "Nothing sexist about what I meant, didn't mean the girls. Meant the logo, could get your fur pink." Daken waves a hand at Charlie as if to emphasize his point. "And I think things are only demeaning if you make it that way. Think about it, they aren't sleeping with anybody, except maybe Hugh, and they live like royalty. If I could talk people into giving me money like that for wearing a stupid revealing rabbit outfit, I'd do it." "Logo still stands for a thing," Charlie counters. "And it's really not my colour." She gives another little snort at the rest of the description. "Yeah, /exactly/ like royal women. Existing only to be bought and sold by men for their own purposes. More apt comparison than you meant." "Sex sells. And as long as the women taking part in it consent fully, I have no issues with it." Daken lifts his shoulders before taking another drink from his hot chocolate. "It's human trafficking and slavery I have an issue with." “Got no desire to associate with any of it.” Charlie dunks the pastry again, another large bite taken. “If you /don't/ have issues with human trafficking and slavery, you don't deserve to be a person.” "Should tell you about that time I broke up a trafficking ring some time." Daken suggests. Though his attention moves across the room, taking in all the other faces. "Or not. I doubt you really want to hear any of my stories." "That depends. All your stories have to do with killing people?" The last bite of doughnut is a little harder to manage, only the edge of it getting coffee-soaked due to lack of places to hold it. Achilles pastry. Charlie eyes it for a moment before consuming it. "That one does. But only twelve. Wasn't a large operation. Only nine handlers, and three leaders. Some stories don't, but those are mostly training stories. Still have nightmares sometimes." Daken finally looks back at Charlie. "Been considering seeing a therapist." He admits with another small sip. "Not like they can put me on medication though. And most of them would have a legal obligation to call the police." "A couple people /have/ recommended it. You know they only have to call the police if you're posing an immediate danger to yourself or others? Not for things you've /already/ done." Charlie gives another little shrug. "I got no love or trust for doctors, but I hear that Mendel Clinic place is okay from other freaks, at least. Probably they're used to getting some wilder stories than the rest of the psychiatric community." "I could just write a book. But that might put me on a government hit list." Daken covers a tired yawn. "Wonder what it would be like if Logan hadn't of ran away, and my mother hadn't of been murdered. Bet I'd be more like that Jackson guy that's in the news from time to time." He straightens up a bit. "Why am I telling you this? You don't give a fuck." "The kind of things you usually talk about, that sounds like a profoundly awful plan, yeah." Charlie's cup tips up for another long drink. "I dunno, man. I'd say I'm cheaper than a shrink but apparently that Clinic'll see you for free, so that ain't true. You got mommy and daddy issues like the rest of us...it's what they like to talk about, or so I'm told. Eventually got to take responsibility for your own damn life, though." "I wouldn't say I have mommy or daddy issues." Daken worries his lower lip for a moment. "But, I don't think I've talked about /you/ yet. I think it's literally been only me. And not even the good stuff about me." The cup in his hands is placed onto the table. "{So what's your story?}" "Man, as much as you talk about your vendetta wanting to kill the old man and thinking you'd be a whoever-that-guy is in newspapers or whatever if not for your parents? That's mommy and daddy issues. Like, serious ones." Charlie almost spit-takes on her coffee at Daken's realisation that he talks about himself a lot. "Depends what story you mean? I told you the extent of my mommy and daddy issues already. They get rid of me soon as they see me, you know? Nobody want the furry baby with the big teeth. My cousin...he was a lot older than me, I call him Tio Marcos even though he's not really my uncle. Mutant, did thermokinesis, went by Burn with the family. He took me in. We make do like that, family of our own. Fuck my parents, they not worth my time if I'm not worth theirs. I don't never gotta know or worry about their sorry asses." She lifts the coffee to her lips one last time, finding only half a swallow remaining in its bottom. “Well...that's it for me. I'm gonna head back home.” Standing, she wraps back into her scarf to conceal the lower half of her face, the hoodie up to hide the rest of her head, and a pair of gloves to shield her hands from view. “Enjoy your clubbing.” With a wave, she heads for the door.