ArchivedLogs:Keep Your Beak Clean

Keep Your Beak Clean
Dramatis Personae Anette, Trib
In Absentia	2014-05-28 '
Location <NYC> Central Park North
Central Park North is slightly quieter than its southern counterpart, being further uptown and slightly out of the bustle of the City - insofar as one can escape the bustle of the City even here, in the acres of green and blue that make up Central Park. The reservoir is in the northern half, providing miles of jogging and biking trails along the clear water, as well as benches for people to sit and rest. It's hard to tell it's twilight in New York, but it is. The thick grey clouds that have belched rain intermittantly throughout the city during the day have stopped their antics and instead hang sulkily in the gloom of the growing night. It's not really the kind of night one thinks of when thinking of taking a nighttime stroll through the park. Yet here Trib is, looming on the path as he trudges along the damp gravel. The boxer isn't really dressed for the rain, in jeans and a dark grey hoodie that renders him nearly invisible when he wanders into the shadows beginning to pool between the puddles of light cast by the streetlamps. It may be intentional. Certainly he's keeping his head bowed as he moves along, glaring his golden gaze at anyone who manages to wander into his field of vision. Granted, that number is not particularly /high/. Anette had come out as soon as the rain stopped, throwing on a hooded, ankle-length coat in case it should start downpouring again. She too, keeps to the shadows, seemingly focused on making her way deeper into the park, despite the growing darkness and late hour. If someone happens to pass by, she ignores them, not caring much whether they notice her or not. Finally, she reaches a spot she deems appropriate. It's one of the least popular roads and it's surrounded by heavy foliage. After a quick glance around for any lurking citizens, she drops the coat she's wearing, stretching out the brown wings hidden underneath. With a couple bats, she's in the area, weaving between the trees, flying up and up. Owl wings are built for stealth, so Trib doesn't notice that he's not alone on the path. At least, not immediately. Trees are not so stealthy, though, and eventually the flutter of leaves overhead brings the big man to a stop. He cranes his head upward, glaring at the treetops and narrowing his eyes to peer through the gloom. "If you're plannin' on fuckin' muggin' me," he rumbles, pulling himself to his full height and digging in a front pocket, "Don't." Anette immediately lands in a tree, gripping to a large branch tightly, hidden away by the leaves once someone catches her. She can't help but choke back a laugh as Trib warns against mugging, especially now that she realizes who it is. "As tempting as that is, I'm afraid that's not what I'm doing," she says, jumping out of the tree and gliding to the ground, immediately tucking her wings close to her. "How's it going Cottonball?" she asks with a grin, hoping he catches on to the reference to a past conversation. Trib scowls at the voice coming from the foliage, until Anette reveals herself. Then his scowl reduces to something less fierce (if no happier) looking. "You just out stretchin' your wings?" he guesses in a grunt, stepping back as she glides to a landing. "Fuckin' dangerous, in the park. Fuckin' crazies everywhere." He spits at the path, politely turning his head to the side before letting it fly. The question gets a noncommital grunt, and a roll of his shoulders. "You?" Anette shrugs faintly. "Yeah, stretching the wings. They don't like to be cooped up for long." She glances around again and shrugs. "There's no one around but me and you. And if someone -did- come along, what are they going to do, follow me? Besides, where else am I supposed to do this? I already hate having to come out at night when there's no one around." She lifts a nose at the spit disgusted but doesn't say anything. "Hop a train. Go upstate." That's Trib's advice, and he scuffs a foot along the gravel. "Lots of fuckin' woods up there. Less people." He rolls his shoulder, and wrinkles his nose. "Might get shot, around here." He turns his upper body, scanning the path for anyone who might be coming in their direction. "Upstate, you can fly in the sun." He shrugs again, and exhales through his nose. "Your life, though." Anette shakes her head. "This is a lot cheaper and faster. Besides, I know what I'm doing. Anyway, you're one to talk. What are you doing around here?" Granted he's flying, or eating random things, but the question stands. She grabs her coat and swings it over her shoulders and wings, in case a random person happens by, and makes herself comfy on a nearby bench. "Live on the other side of the park," Trib says, jerking his chin in a southerly direction. "Easier to cut across, sometimes." His eyes crinkle at the corner. "Anyway, I ain't tryin' to fly around an' shit." He snorts, and looks down the path as he follows the girl to the bench. "Where you been keeping yourself?" Anette nods. "That makes sense. And hey, the only reason you caught me is because I -let- you. I've never had an issue yet." She chuckles slightly as he asks her where she's been. "Around, bouncing all over the place. Guess we just haven't run into each other. It's been pretty quiet, other than weird dreams." But hey, they're just dreams. Right? Trib snorts. "/Let/ me. Right." He shakes his head, and shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, hunching his shoulders. "Fuckin' sounded like monkeys up there, or some shit." He extracts a hand to point at his ear. "Most people ain't fuckin' /deaf/, Hootie." It sounds like it could be a criticism, save for the bland tone. He nods at the answer to his question, and frowns thoughtfully. "Quiet's good," he says. "Quiet ain't buildin's gettin' blown to shit, or people gettin' yanked off the fuckin' street or shit like that." He turns to spit again, and inhales noisily through his nose. "Take weird dreams an' quiet any day." He stops, his brow slamming into a deep vee. "What kind of weird dreams?" Anette rolls her eyes. "I was not being -that- loud. No more than a real owl." She nods along. "It seems like it never ends. And it's usually directed at muties, too. Then they wonder why people think a peaceful resolution isn't happening. Because it won't work." She raises a brow slightly at your sudden interest in her dreams. "Well, it was one. But it was long and...really detailed. I don't know, it happened in the future. It was weird as hell, my powers were, well, even cooler and I killed a man. Why, wanna know if you were in it? Meh, just a dream." "Whatever." Trib is less than impressed with Anette's defense of her skills, and he lifts one corner of his mouth to show a tiny bit of teeth. Her prediction gets another snort, and Trib rolls his shoulders. "Ain't no peace, 'cause people are scared. With crazy fuckin' terrorists on both sides, that shit /ain't/ goin' away." He shrugs. "So you fuckin' deal with it, or lie down an' wait for someone to punch your fuckin' ticket." His voice is a bit gravelly by the time he finishes that sentiment, and he squares his shoulders, visibly shaking himself free of whatever that was. The dream gets a wrinkle of his nose, and he shakes his head. "Nah," he answers the question. "Ain't no one dreamin' nothin' good about me." Anette nods, leaning back and cross one leg over the other. "I'm dealing with it the best I can. All I can say is if something happens, I won't go down quietly." She shakes her head. "Sometimes, fear is the only thing that motivates people." Her voice also takes a slightly darker tone as she continues on. She looks over you and grins, cheering up a bit slightly. "If you want, I'll try to have happy dreams with you in them. Anything specific you have in mind?" "No one said anything about goin' quietly," Trib snorts, kicking some gravel away. "Hell, comes down to it, I'm takin' as many of the fuckers with me as I can." He lifts a shoulder. "But I hope it don't come to that. An' fear is a shit motivator," he says, wrinkling his nose. "It don't do nothin' for you, 'cept make you crazy." He lifts his eyebrows. "An' we don't need no more of /that/ around here." The offer gets a guffaw. "Dream me up some wings," he rumbles. "Like eagle wings or some shit. All bad-ass. LIke that Hawkguy in the comic books." Anette grins. "Should I dream you up a winged girlfriend, too?" she asks, a bit playfully. "But you're right, there's enough crazy in the world. Some day, hopefully, it'll all calm down. I'd love to be able to stretch my wings out anywhere and -not- have to walk around New York in the summer covered up. You're lucky, as least you can hide your abilities. It's a wonder I've gone this long unregistered without trouble." "/Fuck/ no," is Trib's answer for winged girlfriends. "But if you could dream me up Chris Evans with some wings, I ain't gonna fight you." His grin is wider at this, a lascivious flash of teeth that's gone immediately. His look is vaguely sympathetic for Anette's plight, and he hitches a shoulder. "I don't know about fuckin' lucky," he rumbles. "I'm still big as a fuckin' house. That's enough for a lot of people." He hitches his shoulder. "I ain't registered," he says. "That's a bunch of fuckin' bullshit. Long as you don't get popped by the cops, you probably ain't goin' to have no more hassle than you did." Anette laughs a bit. "Aw, all the good ones bat for the other team. I'd think Hiddleston would look good with wings but Chris Evans isn't bad." She shrugs slightly. "Yeah, but there's a lot of humans who are tall or big or whatever. It's not that bad. And I don't plan on getting 'popped by the cops' but I don't exactly have a clean record with them already. That was before registration though." "Tall ain't the same as tall an' scary," Trib rumbles, narrowing his eyes off into the gloom. "An' I can't help lookin' scary no more'n you can help your big, flappy wings." He snorts a laugh, and lifts a shoulder. "Nobody /plans/ on gettin' popped," he grunts. "But it happens. Best to keep your fuckin' beak clean, an' try to avoid givin' 'em reason." He wrinkles his nose. "Not that the dirty fuckers need a fuckin' reason," he amends. "Bunch of fucks, all of 'em." Anette shrugs. "I don't think you look so bad." She sighs and rubs her eyes slightly. "My philosophy to life is something along the lines of "it's not wrong if you don't get caught". Except for a small handful of times, it's worked so far." She stares off into the trees. "But you're right. A bunch of fucks..." Trib smirks. "I prefer the golden rule," he rumbles. "Treat other people like you expect to be treated. 'Swhy I don't get mad when people talk shit to me. 'Cause I'm an asshole." He grins sharply, and shivers a bit as the wind picks up. "Fuck. The rain made it fuckin' chilly," he grouses, hunching his shoulders. "I'm gonna go an' grab me some chow an' get warm." That announcement made, he begins to head down the path. "Keep your beak clean, Hooty," he calls over his shoulder as he goes. "Don't give 'em a reason, unless they make you."