ArchivedLogs:Celebratory

Celebratory
Dramatis Personae Natalie, Scramble
In Absentia	2016-05-03 "You asking me to dance?"
Location <NYC> Sunyata - Bronx
The construction of this squat office building in Port Morris ground to a halt over a year ago. Since, a group of punks have taken it over and converted it to one of the more impressive squats in the city. From outside, the building is wildly colorful, covered with massive interlocking murals. The roof supports a thriving urban farm with a sizeable greenhouse and beehives, while the offices below are homes to both long- and short-term residents, who are encouraged but not actually required to contribute supplies, income, and labor to the community. The cavernous lobby has no glass, but has become a partially indoor skate park/playground, including a rather popular free-running circuit. Dogs and cats and children wander the grounds, shamelessly soliciting food and attention from any who will give it. It's a gray, cloudy afternoon, chilly in that ambiguously springlike sort of way. Scramble is home early, insofar as she has any kind of set schedule anymore. Dressed in a shimmery gold-black duotone button-down shirt, a black vest with gold brocade in intricate kente patterns, and black jeans that lace up the sides, she has been perched out on the balcony overlooking the lobby, her favorite smoking spot (though she is not smoking at the moment). Her battered old laptop sits beside her, though she hasn't touched it in a while. She seems to just be staring at her hands. Somewhere in the street outside there's a low hum of a motorcycle engine pulling up in front of the building. It takes a few minutes more before Natalie slips into the lobby -- vanishes across it up into a stairwell. A few minutes after /that/ before she reappears out on the balcony, in worn old bluejeans, workboots, ribbed black tank top underneath a tan leather jacket, hair tied back in a low ponytail. There's a six-pack of stout in one hand; she sets it down on the ground as she drops to sit beside Scramble. Picks one out, pops open the cap against her belt buckle and offers it out to the other woman. Scramble looks up only when Natalie has actually settled beside her. Signs a casual greeting -- the smile comes a split second after. Accepts the beer with a small nod and 'THANK-you' signed with the other hand. "Paperwork's all done," she says before taking a sip. "Obsidian Process Design LLC is officially A Thing, and I got the co-office space all sorted out. Feel like I should feel more accomplished, you know?" She laughs, a short, quiet huff. "How was your day?" "Delivered shit. Got paid." Natalie's shrug is small. She takes a second beer for herself, turning the bottle around in her hands before opening it. "So this is congratulatory booze?" Her head tips slightly to one side. "... mildly congratulatory booze? What /do/ you feel?" "I'm down with congratulatory booze. Maybe if I celebrate I'll actually get /into/ this. Owning a business. Thing." Scramble takes a longer pull on her beer. Tilts her head, eyes skipping past Natalie toward some new art high up on the interior wall of the lobby: a jagged, angular, and improbably colorful raccoon skateboarding. Someone got the climbing gear out for that one. "It just seems so surreal -- I been working toward it for so long. And it's just...well, now what?" "Well." Natalie's quiet a moment. One of her legs tucks up beneath her, the other dangling down over the edge of the balcony. "Now, you /keep/ working your ass off, because getting the business is only the start. And keeping its doors open is going to be a grueling tough-ass log for -- you know, ever. So you've probably just signed yourself up for a lot of sleepless nights. Probably a whole lot of cheap ramen till you're in the black." Her smile comes quicker after this. Warmer, as she lifts her bottle towards Scramble's in toast. "So you get your celebrating in now while you still can. Congratu/lations/, sister. That's fantastic." "Damn. Here I was thinking I might be able to graduate to /gourmet/ ramen now." Scramble shakes her head, but the grin on her face is far from despondent. "Yeah, I'm planning to make some rounds, shake a lot of hands and give out a lot of business cards tomorrow. But not yet." She taps Natalie's bottle with her own, sending small explosions of effervescence through their beverages. Takes a hearty swig. "Right now I'mma celebrate. Get dim sum. Drop by Commons Game Night to brag. Go out dancing." She doesn't sound quite done with the list, though; the left hand on which she'd been ticking Celebratory Activties stays up, but she also doesn't actually /add/ anything else to it. Natalie's smile remains. She takes a long gulp of her beer, leans back, props herself up on an elbow. "It's okay. Your business hits a downswing, I'll make some extra deliveries. /Splurge/ on some /high/ quality ramen one night. Make sure you don't starve." Her head rolls to the side, and she taps the lip of her bottle lightly against Scramble's still-uplifted hand. "Got some fingers still left." Scramble's grin softens, and she looks down at the skatepark and playground below them for a moment. "Got some ideas still left." Then back up at Natalie. "Why /are/ you so good to me?" She shakes her head, and the gold hoops dangling from her earlobes flash even in the uncertain gray light. "That's...only /kind/ of rhetorical." The bottle clinks lightly against Natalie's teeth with her next sip. Her leg swings, eyes tipping outward toward the wide other side of the balcony. "Gotta have someone to share my beer with, right? Gets lonely drinking on my own." She lowers the bottle to her knee, props herself up just a little higher. "/And/ you're my Sister. /And/ --" There's a faint hesitation, a small shake of her head. "It's been -- nice. Sharing them with you." "You could get just about anyone to share your beer. But yeah, it has been." Scramble unfolds her ring finger now, too. Stares at it for a moment. Then she shakes off her lethargy and puts her hand down, bracing it against the thick blanket spread over the bare concrete of the balcony. "You wanna go out?" this is casual, certainly, but maybe not as casual as Scramble might have liked, since she adds a split second later, "-- with me?" Natalie's brows lift, but her smile at this is quick. Her answer more languid: "You asking me to dance?" "I'm asking you out on a date." Scramble swishes her beer around the bottom of the bottle. Takes another sip. "Which can definitely /include/ dancing." "Yes." Natalie's answer is prompt. "Shit, I'll get all prettied up and everything. Jeans that /aren't/ fraying." Her lips press together slightly before she reconsiders: "... less fraying." "Girl, you could work a burlap sack if you put your -- mind to it." Scramble seems reasonably sincere about this assessment. She polishes off her beer and rolls to her feet, grinning. "But if it's important to you, I got jeans that aren't frayed. C'mon." "Do you have any burlap? I hear that's in this season." Natalie gulps down here beer as well. Hops lightly to her feet, plucking up the rest of the pack. "Huh. Look at that. I'm suddenly feeling /even more/ celebratory."