ArchivedLogs:Un-American

Un-American
Dramatis Personae Doug, Sage, Sebastian, Tony
In Absentia	2014-02-20 '
Location <NYC> Dogtown - Midtown East
A small nook of a joint in Midtown, Dogtown is decorated with little thought to class or style. Cheerful, with black and white tiled flooring, bright red tables, bright yellow walls, menus plastered on peeling sheets over the counter, the walls are papered in an assortment of photographs -- smiling patrons who hold records for successfully eating six or more hot dogs in one one-hour sitting. The menu here is simple and solid -- hot dogs both beef or vegan with a huge array of toppings, fries, slaw, chili. It's not haute cuisine but the dogs are good enough to draw large crowds, especially late at night. It's actually been sort of a pleasant day around New York, if you don't count in things like slush and falling sheets of ice from on high. The weather has crept into the forties, and here towards the end of the day, that minor heat has done in a large portion of the snowy remnants. Which is making for a relatively smooth rush hour, for those heading home right now. Doug is not one of those people, though, only having begun his work day a couple of hours prior. Ah, the glorious life of the Stark intern. You get to sit in on brainstorming sessions, occasionally get to put your hands on some awesome tech, and -- most glamorous of all -- you are the one selected to go when the team decides they want outside food. And so, Doug finds himself here at Dogtown, his phone clutched in his hand with the list of requests from those still working in the office. He's dressed pretty casually today, in jeans and a grey Columbia sweatshirt under his navy peacoat. On his head, a blue tobaggon is pushed loosely down just enough to secure it. He's third in line, behind an eldery man placing his order loudly and two teenagers sporting heavy-looking backpacks. He doesn't seem to be focused on his phone or the other customers, staring at the menu with a thoughtfully distant expression. There's a small blue face peeking in from the doorway, a little timidly, at first. Sebastian isn't overly bundled, given the temperature today, just a dark peacoat over tan cargo pants, sturdy hiking boots, a thin black scarf wrapped around his face more to /hide/ it than to keep warm, a black cap pulled down over his ears for the same purposes. It still leaves a swath of blue skin, enormous black eyes, peering out. He has a backpack over his back, a tablet clutched against his chest with what appears to be a cobalt blue metal dragonfly perched on his shoulder. He's started to fit himself into the back of the line when one of the men working behind the counter spies him; doesn't even bother /saying/ anything, just narrows eyes and makes a /shooing/ gesture with his hands. Bastian's eyes widen. He turns to -- well, /shoo/, head hunched down and his shoulders hunched /up/ in a sudden-startled skitter back towards the door. The door is just opening again as Sebastian is getting shooed, admitting one Tony Stark, also casually dressed in jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt under a plain grey sweatshirt, sunglasses, a red Bulls cap pulled down over his head, sweatshirt hood pulled up mostly over the cap; it's attire that, initially, doesn't draw nearly as many stares as the little blue shark-thing being shooed towards the exit. Tony claps a hand down on the shoulder /not/ currently burdened by robo-dragonfly, turning Sebastian back around as he enters. "Really? Guys, really? Is -- is his money not green? Do you not like money? Because I don't think there's anything more American than liking money -- why do you hate America, people. I should report you for -- do we still /have/ a House Un-American Activities -- because we should. I don't -- I don't think there's anything more patriotic than capitalism." Shortly after the others, Sage enters, though she's not with them, as she shortly enters the line, quickly recognizing Doug and Sebastian. And then shortly the billionaire. Getting a gist of what is going on from looks and words, Sage speaks to Sebastian. "Hello, Sebastian. Are you alright?". And then, she's swapping the conversation to Tony. "The United States does not have a House of Un-American Activities, I am afraid.". She's giving a nod towards Doug, as she stands in line. She's wearing a lime hoodie, a pair of beige jeans, and boots, just looking around the room, kind of staring at the cashiers. Doug might be far away, but the shooing gesture is enough to catch his eye, and he frowns at the man behind the counter before he turns to spot the target of that gesture. Just as Tony is turning Sebastian back and speaking. The blonde's eyes widen a bit, and he reaches up to whip the tobaggon from his head and shove it into a pocket as he nods a mildly awe-struck hello to the older man. Working fingers through his hair, he looks like he's about to speak to Sebastian, but the appearance of Sage closes his mouth again, and he offers a small nod in return. Then he tries again, glancing at Tony carefully as he addresses his friend with a wide smile. "Hey, B. Looks like the whole team is hungry for hot dogs today. You just getting in?" "Uh --" Sebastian /squeaks/ when a hand drops onto him, startle-twitching and looking up with wide-eyes, a flinch back like he's expecting to be /hit/ by -- "Oh! Ohgosh, it's /you/, sir, ohgosh, I -- was just. Um." He swallows hard, as the dragonfly repositions itself on his shoulder, unbothered by the swaying as it walks up into a more stable position. "Apologies, I didn't. Um." He frowns. "The House Un-American Activities Committee? Blackberry --?" His head tilts slightly, and he shakes his head. "... it was abolished in 1975 and its functions transferred to the House Judiciary Committee." He sounds like he is reciting from somewhere. He takes another half-step back, farther from the counter, closer to Tony. "I think they like money okay just not, um." He frowns. "I just came from school," he agrees with Doug. "Kinda starving. -- Oh. Hello, Miss Sage. I'm. Um. Hungry. I should. Go. Find food." Behind the counter the cashier has been frowning at this rebuke. "We just don't want any --" he starts, before he looks up. At Tony's face. Down at Sebastian. Up at Tony with a /frown/, and a sudden kind of oh-shit face. "I mean. You're all welcome. Of course. To eat here." He looks pained as he says this. Through clenched teeth. "He's fine," Tony answers Sage glibly /for/ Sebastian, "he's going to get a big meal. Served with a smile." He's /steering/ Sebastian, not back into line but just up to the front of it like he doesn't even notice the other people already waiting there. "Blackberry, who has -- oh, the bug. Right. Should get that thing a better name, you don't know what people might think. -- Two junkyard dogs," is his order, "Large Pepsi and whatever --" He waves a hand at Sebastian, and then at the store in general. "They want." Sage is staring at Tony. Rich people. She stands in line, as she retrieves her own wallet, as she turns to Doug. "Hello again, Doug. It is a coincidence running into so many familliar faces at once. How are you doing?". Her voice has that same robotic tone, as she turns to the front of the line, speaking to ATHENA in curiosity. "ATHENA, check the stock market.". Doug's eyebrows hike as Tony steps forward, and his inhale is too deep and slow to actually be a /gasp/, but it's close enough in tone to be related. "You're always kind of starving," is probably meant to be a tease for Sebastian, but it lacks any kind of life, lost in the open stare that he's giving Stark. When Tony offers to pay for the room, he glances down at the phone in his hand, and his brow knits. "Uh, sir?" he offers, his voice small and apologetic. "Thank you, but I feel it's only fair to warn you that I'm getting food for the team back in the lab." His eyebrows knit further. "I mean...if that's okay. I have the card, if it's not." He's gushing a bit at the end, flushing deeply. When Sage addresses him, he turns back, as if surprised at her presence. "Oh! Hey. Sage, right?" He grins a bit, and nods with a shrug. "Yeah. New York's a lot smaller than people realize, I guess." He turns back, watching Tony as he speaks. "I've been good," he says. "Working like mad on a bunch of stufff. How are you?" Sebastian's eyes stay wide, head still ducked down as he is marched up towards the counter; he's very much not making eye contact with the line of people he's walked past, nor with the cashier. "-- a dozen chili dogs," he orders, "hold the buns. Um. And a root beer. Please." His head scrunches down further at Doug's comment, shoulders hunching up as he cringes. "... I know." He says this in a tiny-apologetic voice, lifting a hand to clap it at the side of his scarf. He straightens a little bit out of his cringe, the dragonfly repositioning itself on his shoulder again as he steps away from the counter. "Thank you. Sir. Um. He's named after a -- book character actually. Because Blackberry was the cleverest and out of my swarm he's got the -- he's the fastest learner." Some of the timidity leaves his voice when talking about the robot, at least. His nose wrinkles up afterwards, eyes dropping to the ground. "New York's a lot smaller since a tenth of it died." "What." Tony looks over at Doug blankly, brows lifting from behind his sunglasses as his head tips slightly downward. "Warn me, team, what team. Trust me, kid, a couple of hot dogs aren't going to break my budget." His fingers waves towards Doug's face. "You know you're turning red." He reaches to pluck the dragonfly off of Sebastian's shoulder as he watches it reposition itself, watching the movement of the legs curiously and turning it slightly onto one side so he can examine its underside. Then just dropping the robot into midair. Sage is just watching quietly, a /tiny/ smirk at Sebastian's order, though it fades quickly. "It's a small world, is that not what the song says?". She's replying to Doug, before also replying to Sebastian's sad reply, no facial response. "It is still rather large, with several million citizens.". Doug frowns at Sebastian's apologetic tone, and tips his head to one side, momentarily forgetting about Tony's presence. "B. Dude. I was teasing you. It's all good." His smile tugs to one side, and he lifts a shoulder. "I have no room to talk about how much anyone eats. I pack enough away, myself." Attempting to make Sebastian more comfortable has the same effect for him, and he's decidedly /less/ fanboy when he answers Tony's question. "I'm on Sebastian's team, sir," he says, motioning towards the younger teen. "I'm Doug Ramsey. I started at the beginning of the year." He ignores the comment on his coloration, although it does make him color again. "I just figured it'd kind of be bad form to say 'oh, hey thanks for the free food. Now I need twenty hot dogs.'" He wrinkles his nose, maybe aware of how silly that sounds after Sebastian's order. Then he ducks his head. "...so, yeah," he mumbles, and glances back at Sage, muttering softly. "I hope the world is at least big enough to swallow me up right now." "Doug works in our lab, sir," Sebastian explains, cheeks flushing dark, and then darker at the comment on twenty hot dogs. His shoulders tighten up again, shifting self-consciously at his own order. The dragonfly's legs are reaching for new purchase as it is turned in the air, stilling again when it finds nothing to latch onto; instead its wings spread slightly. They light when the robot is unceremoniously dropped; it falls towards the ground but rights itself in mid-air with a low thrumming noise, catching itself before it crashes and alighting on the ground with at least a modicum of dignity. The clicking repositioning of its wings before they shut back off seems almost like bristling. "-- Think you hurt his feelings," Sebastian says with a small twitch of smile, scooping the robot back up to perch it on his shoulder again. "Anyway I run into people I know all the time because big as New York might be there's only a handful of places /I/ can actually ever go inside. So that makes it -- a lot smaller." Tony hands his credit card over to the cashier, relinquishing it so that the man can just put the whole store's orders on it once everyone is through. He stays leaning up against the counter, though, not quite in front of the cash register but just unapologetically /there/. Not exactly in the way but not /out/ of it, either. "Well, then, it's all my money anyway, isn't it?" he finally says, once it's been clarified for him who Doug is. He's tipped his head down to watch the dragonfly's path; there's actually a very small tug of smile that makes its way onto his face when the robot manages to recalibrate itself and catch the fall in time for a landing. "Does learn, doesn't he. Should train him to buy you hot dogs. You've probably built a smarter insect than the guy working the register." Who is, admittedly, still standing /right the heck there/, not that Tony seems to be paying him much attention. "Do you discriminate against robots here?" "Robots have no rights according to law, therefore it would not be discrimination.", Sage says factually towards the billionaire, her eyes not even looking at him but at her glasses. She's then turning back to the conversation in hand seconds laters. "There are still atleast hundreds of establishments in NYC allowing mutants, I do not believe it would be that difficult." Tony's comment gets a bark of laughter from Doug, and he shrugs helplessly. "I guess so, sir." He looks a bit lost, looking at the counter guy, then Tony, then Sebastian. He watches the robot inspection for a moment, then glances down at his phone. And swears. Hotly. "Is that the /time/? I thought it was...shit...." Doug looks around the shop as if he might create some sort of portal to flee. "I've got to get...shit. They'll probably be closed by the time I get there. Igottago," he says hurriedly as he steps out of the line and heads for the door. "B, can I send you the food list, and you can get it? I know it's not your job, but I'd really appreciate it...shit, I'm never going to get there in time...." He doesn't wait for Sebastian to actually acknowledge his request, already out the door and shouting for a taxi. And then he's gone. "With all due respect, miss," Sebastian says, very slowly and very /politely/, "but it's not that difficult /for you/. You've never had to spend even five minutes of your life looking like me. And the difference between even a place that'll allow my /Pa/ -- who's possibly one of the most recognizable mutants on earth -- and a place that'll allow /me/ -- is enormous. So as I said, there's only a handful of places /I/ can go. Which means /I/ run into the same people often. I'm quite certain, miss, that /your/ experience is very different." His fingers lift to brush against the metal body of the dragonfly, smile brightening wider at the compliment. "He /does/ learn. I mean that's what he's for. He's supposed to be good at picking up --" But then Doug is suddenly taking off and he stops, at the request to get the food, blushing deeper purple again and dipping his head in acknowledgment of it. "I -- oh. Um. But I had to -- right. Yeah. I mean of -- course." He fidgets, eyes flicking up to Tony and then away as his hand drops to his side, posture hunching down in his coat to make himself smaller again. "So are you saying that what was just happening to this kid here wasn't discrimination? There's no laws against it. You have some pretty terrible working definitions. But, for the record, 'discrimination' only means making -- differing judgments between one thing and another. The law doesn't have to enter into it. Just people. And people," Tony says this with another gesture of knuckles towards the cashier, "people are really good at discriminating. Though by the same metric, so is Blackberry here. -- Doesn't /he/ work for /you/?" He's watching Doug go with a questioning lift of eyebrows, gaze turning back to Sebastian. "No, I am not saying that. He is a human being, therefore discrimination laws are /supposed/ to affect him. If you are thinking I am being a bigot, you are quite wrong, as I work closely with Mr. Holland-Zedner's father and I myself am one of them." Sage is saying this with the same emotionless tone, not caring that she just outted herself, she's probably done it many times, as she turns to Sebastian. "I did not mean it that way. My experience is in fact different, but in a perfect world, which sadly is not possible it would not be. I meant no harm by my words, as I said before.". And then she's silencing. Not really out of embarassment, but at the fact that this conversation is growing a bit unimportant to her, she's said her piece, as she waits in line. The line in front of Sage is clearing up, as people who were there before them order their food (at Tony's expense) and move on. Sebastian blushes darker, picking up the -- large /bag/ with a dozen hot dogs in it that gets delivered to him, with a mumble of thanks. "He's an intern," he agrees with Tony's clarification, "he works for me, yes. On -- my team. I don't think anyone was saying you're a bigot just --" He frowns down at the ground, shaking his head quickly. "... Ishouldgettoworkthankyouforthehotdogs." He's hurrying back towards the door quickly. Without the orders for the rest of the team, WHOOPS. But he doesn't even know what they are yet and doesn't seem inclined to linger in the store any longer. "-- Not that you're a bigot, just that you don't know what words mean," Tony finishes Sebastian's aborted sentence easily. He peers closer at Sage, leaning in to inspect her critically for -- "Huh, no glitter. I swear that kid's dad /sheds/." He's straightening, too; with only Sage left in line and his hot dogs just being delivered he can very nearly reclaim his credit card and get back on his way, as well. "I remove it in the morning.". This is an attempt at snark from Sage, but has no tone to it so who knows, as she orders her meal. She grabs her food, heading for a table. "ATHENA, news."