ArchivedLogs:Colorful and Weird

Colorful and Weird
Dramatis Personae Billy, Tag
In Absentia	2015-07-26 "I don't know how much skill I can trade. ...I can't help but wonder..."
Location <NYC> Brooklyn
The most populous of the boroughs, Brooklyn has nothing if not character. With a thriving music and arts scene, and a distinctive New York slant to its stereotypical gritty accents, Brooklyn ranges from the high-cultured to the very much working class. From botanical gardens to beachfronts, Manhattanites might like to think their borough is the only one that matters, but Brooklyn has a lot to offer of its own. Billy's tiny, white, bichon-frise teacup-poodle mix confidently leads the way through the Brooklyn boroughs. The toy breed is only the beginning to the gloriousness, ghostly white precession. With the streets largely abandoned in favor of indoor air-conditioned rooms, Billy looks positively ethereal out there all on his own. His prim and proper clothing, all white, reflect the dim street lights. As the breeze catches, the young man's antiseptic scent drifts downwind. The edge of a streetlight's cone illuminates an alley wall up ahead, flickering with psychedelic colors as if the whole concrete face of it were a screen. Blue-white electric bolts twist through a surreal landscape of mechanical trees and and robotic animals, all of which are shifting colors (some subtly, some rapidly). Tag leans against the opposite wall of the alley, head tilted far to one side, then the other. His hair is a messy rainbow pinwheel, flopping across his face and over his shoulders. He wears a purple shirt with a giant cartoon monster stomping through a cartoon city, and black cargo shorts with yellow lightning bolts down the outseams. His bright pink sneakers have glittery blue laces. No, glittery silver now. One of his hands sweeps back and forth through the air as though he were conducting an invisible orchestra...or the colors on the wall. Slowing to a stop, Billy is tugged in the alleys direction but hesitates at its mouth. Behind his thick, white wayfarers, his eyes widen in innocent awe as he looks up over the wall. The blonde lets out the faintest of gasps, which might not have been much of a sound were it not such a quiet, peaceful Sunday evening. So absorbed is Tag in his art that he does not notice Billy's approach until he hears the gasp. Make that two gasps. Tag jumps away from the wall as if it had suddenly grown scalding hot, and looks just about ready to bolt. Then does not. The colors on the alley wall have settled for the moment, and look just like a regular mural, if a rather fresh one. "Um, hi! Nice night, huh?" Tag flashes a bright smile, a touch sheepish and a touch nervous. "Cute dog." Not having seen Tag, Billy's willowy frame jerks as if he might bolt, too. A frightened peep chirps from his throat and the cute dog stomps his thumb-sized front paw and gruffs in its owner's defense. "Oh, thanks!" Recovering, Billy smiles back with a row of perfectly bleached teeth, "Yeah, it is." With a gloved hand, he motions towards the mural, "I'm sorry I interrupted you! You're amazing! I want you to do this to my building." He laughs, easily. Tag's smile brightens, and the rest of him, too. Every color on his already colorful person seems to gleam in the dim light. "Thank you! And hey, I'm happy for any interruption that doesn't involve the cops." He runs his hand through his hair, pushing back a curtain of purple bangs. "Ah, wow! Cool, I do commissions." He rummages through the pockets of his shorts until he comes out with a business card: black, with gleaming silver text except for the name Tag, which is written in metallic rainbow. "I'm Tag," he explains, offering the card, "my quote-business-unquote is Neon & Chrome. I can draw pretty much anything you like, but my usual style is..." He looks over his shoulder at the mural. "...colorful and weird." Encouraged by Tag's warmth, Billy's smile brightens as well. He extends a hand, accepting the card with a chuckle, "I don't like, have any money. I'm Billy, though. Nice to meet you." Underfoot, the little dog rises onto his haunches as if to try and get the card for himself. "How does it work?" Billy looks between the artist and the mural expectantly, "Photokinetics? Are you using light?" From his tone, he doesn't think thats the case, "...It looks so permanent." "Nice to meet you!" Tag's smile doesn't fade. "I accept skill trade and barter and all that, too. And...well...really, if you don't own your building, I guess it's technically just vandalism, right?" He winks. "It's not light, and it's not paint. I can change how the surface of materials react to light...somehow. How long it lasts depends on the medium, but on a solid concrete wall, I can get it to outlast paint." There's a hint of pride in the way he says this. "Can I pet your dog?" "Huh," Billy considers the explanation, lashes batting. "Sure, he's friendly. His name is Taylor but he like, also answers to Butch. Sometimes." He gestures down towards the dog as it hops for Tag in anticipation. "I'm a teacher," Billy muses over the dog's excited yips, "I don't know how much skill I can trade. ...I can't help but wonder..." The blonde's words drift off and he adjusts his glasses. Light abruptly bursts forth from a back porch from one of yards that connect to the alley and a door creeks open, "HEY! WHO IS OUT THERE?!" Tag is already stooping, stretching out a hand for Taylor to sniff. "Cool! What do you teach?" His tone of voice doesn't really change that much when he addresses the dog. "Hi, there! You are *so* adorable." But he yips and jumps up at their sudden discovery. "Oh boy, we better get going! Feel free to text-email-call-at me!" Waving frenetically at Billy, he slips out of the alley and into the deepening night. Billy opens his mouth to answer, but barely gets out a syllable before Tag is blurting and slipping away. He lets the jingle of his dog's collar answer the territorial neighbor as he give sit a tug, "C'mon, boy. Time to keep walking." Absently, he looks over the card front and back. And he wonders if that power might work on him.