Logs:Anarchist Sherlock Holmes

Anarchist Sherlock Holmes
Dramatis Personae Joshua, Polaris, Wendy
In Absentia	2020-10-22 "Why? Did you have a mystery that needs solving?"
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. Evolve has been one of the major protest safe spaces for well over a week now, and while it's still technically operating as a coffeeshop it feels first and foremost like a hub for the uprising. It's later afternoon, and with the energy out on the streets low, Evolve is also quieter. It's crowded, all the same, with weary protesters taking a break and fresh ones coming off of their day jobs coming here to meet up with others and to get information on the evening's events. Polaris has just gotten off her shift, but much like most days recently she's not leaving yet. She's wearing a black fitted t-shirt with a silver graphic of an intricate origami unicorn and black jeans, her boots, cuffs, and belt all heavily adorned with steel hardware. Her makeup is green and silver, likewise her (blunt and short, now) nails, and her hair is starting to come loose from the once-neat bun that has been steadily migrating down the back of her head since she arrived in the morning, stray green tresses hanging down either side of her pale face. She has a bowl of pumpkin soup cradled in her lap now and is somewhat mechanically spooning it into her mouth where she's curled into the corner of the couch in back. "If one more person had asked about 'medic trainings' I was gonna throw something," she's saying, her voice tense with irritation. "Like I wanna just be like 'go ask a medic?' but also 95% of them mean 'health and safety training' which I can tell them about. I just dunno why it's such a production figuring out what they're actually asking." Wendy has long since finished whatever her lunch was, though there's still a large and fresher mug of coffee in front of her. She's removed the purple duster she came in with, folding it neatly over the back of the couch to leave her still wearing a maroon wrap top with lace detail, camel riding skirt and slouchy brown boots. Her hands cup around the coffee, sipping at it slowly as her eyes skim the room. "You could have thrown something." She sounds rather equable on this topic. "There would no doubt be a medic nearby to hear their cry." One medic is, in fact, just approaching -- though with no buddy in sight it's likely Joshua may be what passes for clocked out at this moment. He's dressed in khaki quick-dry cargo pants, a soft blue waffle-weave long-sleeved tee, black and red kippah, a pack strapped around his waist bearing NYCAM patches together with a black and gold one reading 'mir veln zey iberlebn' in Yiddish orthography and a slim green fishing vest removed, folded inside out and draped over an arm, steps dragging and heavy bags under his eyes. He's carrying a vegan club sandwich with a side of fried pickle spears, and a large mug of coffee in the other hand. He settles himself in an armchair catacorner to the couch, setting down his food before he unstraps his hip pack. "What are they wearing?" This is Joshua's uninvited interjection into the conversation, as he slumps back in his chair. "I usually assume if they're geared up like they're going onto a battlefield, they also want to be cowboy medics. If they just have street clothes, maybe they want the daily health and safety." "Don't encourage me," Polaris admonishes, but cannot quite suppress the quick slash of a smile--an exceedingly rare glimpse of joy on her face these days, "I actually like my job." She looks up at Joshua when he speaks. "Oh, hey man. They're mostly in regular clothes but um..." Her eyes search his outfit reflexively. "I figure if they're geared up they probably don't think they need the training, right? Whether or not that's true. Y'all doing God's work out there, though. Thank you." "See?" Wendy tips her mug toward Joshua, a very small tug turning the corners of her mouth upward. "Like some kind of internal radar for if anyone is saying medic anywhere near." She sips at the coffee again, her eyes skimming Joshua a little bit longer than Polaris's. "Do you get a lot -- of cowboys." "Always some. Think it's their time for glory, as if --" Joshua exhales hard, tipping his head back against the chair. His knuckles drag against his eyes and he drops his hand slowly, sits forward slowly to pickup his sandwich. "You kidding me? You all are holding it down in here. Trying to imagine that nightmare without safe toilets, fresh water and food, shit." "I gotta say I'm impressed by that response time." Polaris takes another sip of her soup before setting it aside half-finished. She looks both startled and pleased by the praise, a faint blush rising her her cheeks. "I wish more people were cowboys about logistical support and sh--stuff." Her brows furrow tightly. "Not sure what that would even look like, honestly, but we'd probably be scrambling a lot less around here." "More people who are gung-ho about spreadsheets and supply organization would be a blessing." Wendy lowers the mug to her lap. Leans forward to take a spoon of Polaris's soup, too. "It looks like you all could use a few more logistics people and a few less macho ones." Her fingers flutter in the direction of Joshua's face. "You look -- very worn." Joshua shakes his head, covering his mouth with one hand after he takes a bite of his sandwich. "S'fine it's not all this." He lowers his hand after he swallows, gesturing toward his medic pack as his tongue runs across his teeth. "This is a lot but I've just had to --" He pauses here, brows slowly knitting as he studies Wendy. "Sorry, this might be rude but you -- figure shit out, right? Your. Thing." "I mean you're a paramedic by day, right?" Polaris fidgets with one of her wire rings, letting it unwind and slider over her knuckles. "That's--a lot of medicking." At the question she tilts her head, her voice tinged with pride as she answers, "Yeah, she's like anarchist Sherlock Holmes." "Something like that." Wendy watches the ring slip across Polaris's knuckles. Looks at Joshua pensively after this. "Why? Did you have a mystery that needs solving?" "I'm -- often a paramedic by night, but, yeah." This time when Joshua lifts his hand to his mouth it's to stifle a yawn. "S'a kid I'm trying to help. Figure out their powers. Got a handle on making sure it doesn't misfire, but I have no idea what it's doing. Be goddamn amazing if you could help." Polaris's eyes are wide and impressed, but she only nods. Then, though Wendy's reputation clearly needs no defending, "She helped me figure out my powers way back when she didn't know she had any. Though..." She blushes. "I guess some are more obvious than others." The wire wraps itself around her index finger again, twisting into intricate curlycues. Wendy's eyes flutter, lower, a touch of pink creeping into her cheeks. "I do have a lot of practice, at that." She takes another mouthful of Polaris's soup, washing it down with some coffee. "I don't know your schedule, but mine can be flexible. Just let me know when." Her mouth twitches again. "I don't much like the thought of driving an ambulance on --" Again she gestures towards Joshua. "So little sleep." "I like the quiet ones. A lot going on there, sometimes." At the last comment Joshua only lifts his eyebrows, just one quick hitch. "I'm gonna go ahead and not tell you how long your paramedic may have been on shift already if you call 911." "Sure is," Polaris agrees softly, glancing aside at Wendy. Then she scrunches up her face. "I hope you get some sleep soon, friend." Then, muttered quiet, "Maybe just as well we're too poor to call 911, huh?"