ArchivedLogs:Something New Every Day

Something New Every Day
Odd, but new
Dramatis Personae Corey, Hanna, Kay
In Absentia	2013-11-02 Conversation, confusion, and catching up
Location <NYC> Village Lofts - Lobby - East Village
Bright and sunny, the lobby of this apartment building is clean and unassuming. Requiring an electronic keycard for entry, the pair of elevators dings cheerfully when one arrives. A small sitting area has bright yellow couches and small coffee tables, though the nearby vending machine is perpetually running out of /something/. Tall windows let in plenty of light during the daytime, and the building maintenance keeps the common areas spotlessly clean. A bank of mailboxes near the sitting area collects mail for the building, a recycling bin right at hand for the unwanted spam. Beside the mailboxes, a large corkboard serves as informal meeting space for the announcements, perpetually flyered with notes and notices from the various apartment residents. November has opened up on New York with an unseasonable humid heat; natives passing in the bright-silver semi overcast day resign themselves to it, many wearing shorts, sandals, jackets and carrying umbrellas all in equal mix-and-match portions. Kay is entering the building in typical MC gear, his sleeveless Mutant Mongrel's kutte sporting it's 1% patches on the back and front, the sides of his head shaved shaved short to lessen the visibly of two bald patches to either sides of his temple. He's entering kind of - slowly. Blinking hard with one hand up and loosely opened in front of him in the classic '...wait, I swear I know why I'm here' gesture. Just kind of... blocking the door way. With is tall lanky self. With the oddities in the weather, Corey is wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants, though they have the tell tale fold over around knee height signifying they can zip off and be removed, with a white teeshirt with the words "I donated blood" and the Red Cross logo. As he tries to make his way in though, he is blocked by the presence of the biker, and he tilts his head a moment, trying to look over and around him to see if anything else is holding up the entrance. Not seeing anything, he clears his throat slightly, to try and get attention of the fellow before continuing with "Are you alright sir?" The doors of the elevator opens to reveal a decidedly June Cleaver-esque figure. If June Cleaver had been a middle aged, soft about the middle, Hawaiian woman, that is. Hanna emerges from the elevator with an ever present cheery smile, wearing a softly textured brown day dress over a small set of bright red crinolines that flare the dress slightly just above her knees, a matching red belt cinching the dress in at her waist. Her long, dark hair is pulled up into a french twist and secured with a large orange and red leaf clip. Coffee colored eyes crinkle, the color flickering faintly to a sickly green color for a moment, and her smile falters briefly, at the sight of the tall young man blocking the doorway. Confusion and concern settling into her features, she approaches, cautiously, "You doing alright, sir?" She seems genuinely concerned, offering a curious glance beyond Kay's stopped figure to greet Corey, before turning her attention back to the lanky biker. If 99% of the human population were to respond to these types of standard social engagement, Kay's 1% patch would communicate where he's standing on the matter today. In that he snaps out of wool-gathering stare at the far wall to rotate first his eyes, slowly, to the far corner. Then to begin to slowly turn his wiry neck. Only finally, do his shoulders begin to rotate with him - it's a very /draconic/ sort of movement, making poor Corey they adventurer drifting slowly into his sights. "Why," his low-raspy tenor drifts through his teeth, some vague aggressive /confusion/ actually present in the way he ROVES his gaze over Corey's face. "You got a problem?" He blinks when Hanna's voice filters in from his six, and the hazy /anger/ falls into a greater clarity to turn back around to her. His smile is still... well, aggressive, but now it's default-aggression, cocky-casual and (if you squint and look sideways) kind of relieved, "Cupcake lady." He puts out a hand toward her. Like he wants her to give him something. PURPOSE maybe. Corey simply smiles in the face of angry biker, though his eyes are somewhat empty of emotion as he stands in a non-aggression stance, though from the looks of his biceps and the cut of his shirt, if muscles grew on trees they would be harvested here. "Only that I need to get in to have dinner with my friend." He tilts his head over to the arriving Hanna. "Speaking of which, there she is now. So, are you alright?" He raises a brow at the cupcake lady comment, then chuckles a bit. "Seems a friendly bakery owner attracts the most interesting sorts of people as acquaintances." Hanna looks curiously at Kay and his slow reaction, resting her hands on her hips in a somewhat disapproving manner, her lips pulled into a disapproving line. Despite not having children, Hanna manages to pull the 'mom' look off fairly well as she looks at the two men in the doorway. "Not a problem, no. But I'm going to have a cross dryad on my hands if dinner gets chill because our friend couldn't get in," Hanna offers with a smirk, gesturing Corey forward. The cupcake lady greeting, however, breaks the admittedly thin veneer of disapproval, and Hanna smiles broadly. "One of the things people call me, yes. Biker - you came by after.... after the unfortunate events of earlier in the year," she says, her voice catching faintly in her throat. She reaches out to shake his hand, offering a smile, "Though most people call me Hanna. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name that day. Everything from that week is a bit of an unfortunate haze." Despite her wholesome, house-wifey appearance, Hanna doesn't seem the least bit intimidated by Kay's presence or appearance, an easy, friendly smile crinkling her warm, coffee colored eyes. "Kay. Kay Hesse," is the name freely given in a ratty dismissive exhale, and where Hanna doesn't seem intimidated by him, he in turn doesn't seem motivated to /spare/ her his absentminded aggression. One hand may, in fact, give her a reflexive and firm /pat/ to the back of the shoulder, "And fuck if we ain't all been there." He isn't even bringing up his own stint in the paper for holing up outlaw-style in Harlem, "Your place been bothered again since? --this your guy?" He's finally, in his own damn good /time/, stepping aside to reluctantly permit Corey into the building, thumbs loosely tucking themselves into either back pocket to make a kind of large leggy bird posture. He's sizing Corey up with a rapid up-and-down zig zag of active, somehow shallow-animal amber eyes. Height for height, he could nearly /match/ Corey. Thickness, less so; it's all rangey lizardish lumps of gristle beneath the tattoos. Making his way in finally, Corey inclines his head to the other man in thanks. "Nice to meet you Kay. I'm Corey Malcom," he says offering the other man his hand. Looking between the too, he nods a bit in understanding as he figures out which week that was as he glances back to Hanna. "Ah, that mess. Such a horrible time, I'm glad it didn't end up worse for you or Jayna." He shakes his head, letting out a slight sigh. "At least matters seem to be...quieting down now, at least since the Harlem event. I can't believe that nutter rammed a tank into it. Or was it just a hummer? Gah, story kept changing, I blame the news." "Lovely to finally put a name to the face, Kay," Hanna says, chuckling and bouncing slightly at the pat to the back - though perhaps not moving forward as much at the force as one would expect of the vintage baker-woman. "Mm... Jayna and I were attacked, after hours a short while later," she explains, looking away anxiously for a moment, perhaps to hide the blatant shift of her eye color from warm brown to a frigid blue as she speaks, "Broken arm. Broken glass. Frayed nerves - we were closed for a week, but we're back now." Rubbing the arm that had been broken, she coughs slightly, glancing up at Corey and Kay for a moment, eyebrow quirked, a chuckle of amusement coloring her voice, "Him? Oh, god no. A dear friend, yes. But my 'guy' is the lady cooking dinner upstairs right now." Her smile fades at the mention of Harlem, nodding solemnly, "Tank, if I remember right. Damn fool military nut-job destroyed a gorgeous old church with a /tank/." A dainty snarl twists her lips, eyes fading to a hazy acid green slowly, "Those poor people, just trying to find a place to /exist/ in safety. It's..." Hanna sighs, putting back on a cheery smile, apparently reighning in her emotions, "It has begun to quiet down, somewhat. Though I cannot say I /trust/ the quiet anymore. Constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop." "It's called a stryker," Kay is grinning again, and drifting vague and /flexed/ again, looking out the door behind Corey like he might just shove his way outside at any moment. "Kinda what you get if you mate a tank with an SUV. ...didn't stay safe there for long." Felt around them, subtly but at a noticeable increase, is a rising dry heat. Like a breath of desert wind coming up from the ground. He keeps that same fixed expression until his own hand raises and SMOOSHES down against his left eye, rub-rub-rub, and he looks back at Hanna with that momentary look she's probably gotten enough to recognize it. That 'hold the phone' look of suspended reaction until he's certain he understands what she's saying. Then he GRINS, "OH. Oh so like. You and her--. Okay. Damn. She was a little cutie too. That whole forest-goddess thing going on." Yeah he'll just out and say it. Corey nodding at Hanna's description of her injuries, he frowns again then at Kay's explanation of what the thing was Coreys face makes the silent ahhh of understanding. "Either way, the guy was a nutter." Shaking his head, he chuckles at Kay's reaction to the relationship. "Yeah, her and Jayna. I'm nothing more than a friend, really." There is a little concern as the guy seems to be losing it abit with his hand to his eye, but he isn't in the mood to push it. Besides, if something was wrong, just standing there might help the man a bit in his recovery. Hanna looks at Kay with concern as the man starts to zone out again, lips pulling into a thin, displeased line, "A stryker? Interesting. Regardless - damn nutter should not have been ramming it into a historic building full of people." The expression lightens by leaps and bounds, however, when Kay makes note of the relationship, a light laugh escaping her lips. "Yes. Jayna and I," Hanna offers with a bright smile and a shrug, "Seems to catch people off guard at times. I can't quite say what she sees in me - but she's an absolute darling." She looks towards Kay again, then glances to Corey, "You doing ok? Hope you haven't caught the flu that seems to be wending around through the building." "What. Have you seen yourself?" Kay says it like he's shocked Hanna hasn't /realized/ this amazing /thing/, and it distracts him /back/ to the conversation he'd been mentally abandoning, his long knuckly fingers splaying out to make a presentation of Hanna's CHEST, brows furrowed like he's not actually /okay/ with any of this, "Your tits /alone/..." He gives his head a hard twitchy shake, like an animal with a flea mite, taking a step back from the duo and looking searchingly around the lobby. All the while, he's talking casually, "--yeah well. Write your fucking congressman, that nutter's running a branch of the fucking American military. I was /there/. He wouldn't have cared if he killed every freak in the place." And he's off! -- to pace about ten feet, turn on his heels like he's going to /yell/ at them. But what he says, sounding alarmingly sincere, "-- what happened after you got jumped? Your arm all -- ..." He blanks again, jerking his head again, fingers opening and closing. Hang on, hang on, he's got this -- "...better. Now?" Holding back a laugh, and coughing as a result at Kay's commentary on Hanna's physique, Corey covers his mouth and the smile behind it. The laugher is gone though as Kay talks about the fellow behind the tank, followed by a frown. "That's pretty messed up." He sighs, and blinks as the conversation shifts points again. "Yeah, we were making sure that she followed doctors orders to rest and recover. She's stubborn though and was back to baking before her cast was off, but I am pretty sure she's back to a hundred percent." He looks to her Hanna with a questioning look, though it may have been more about the flu commentary than the previous. Hanna blinks at Kay for a long moment when he 'compliments' her form, momentarily unsure of how to react. Then, however, she bursts out laughing, a genuine, rolling belly laugh that seems to warm the lobby with mirth. "Oh, my. Well, thank you for that," Hanna says lightly, still chuckling as she blinks away a tear, her eyes once again a brilliant golden-brown color. Kay's next comment about the driver of the stryker pulls the laughter from her voice, and she looks at him, wide eyes curdling to a sickly acid green color, before regulating to a matte brown once again, "Oh /hell/ no. That's... ff..." she snorts, looking at Kay, "Glad you made it out from that mess. Sorry if you knew any of the ones lost." The next turn of conversation gets a curious head tilt, and she moves the arm that had been injured, as though showing off the range of motion, "I'm fine. Jayna's fine. Still haven't caught the ass hats who attacked us. Pretty sure /that/ police report ended up in the circular file about ten seconds after they were out of my sight." She sighs heavily at that, her tone bitter for a moment, "Regardless. I'm back to normal, bakery is doing well enough." "Kshhhhhh," Kay turns his back on both of them, abruptly. "Just let them try me next time." And, the rest of the conversation entirely /forgotten/ he now does throw down a shoulder and /exits/ the building without a goodbye. Blinking as Kay turns and heads off, Corey shakes his head and looks to Hanna. "Well, I must say that tops my weirdest conversations. And I thought the ones I've had in the past Year were weird." Glancing to the door, the looks back to Hanna, and smiles amusedly. "So flu abounds within these walls?" He crosses his arms over his chest at that. "Oddly, I can't say this is even that high up on the list of odd conversations," Hanna muses in response, watching Kay go with a bemused smirk, "Seems like a nice enough guy, anyway. Forward, a bit." She chuckles, shaking her head, "Yeah - bit of the sniffles going around, from the sounds of it. But - 'tis the season. Not that you've got anything to worry about." Clapping a hand on Corey's shoulder, she starts to guide him towards the elevator, "C'mon. Jayna's got dinner in the oven, and will be quite cross if we stay down here chatting and it gets cold."