ArchivedLogs:Hot Dogs and Justice

Hot Dogs and Justice
Dramatis Personae Sebastian, Shelby
In Absentia	21 January, 2013 Hot Dogs. And. Justice.
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. This weekend's warm snap has proven sadly temporary and temperatures have dropped again, with snow drifting through off and on throughout the day. It isn't bitterly frigid, at least, and that means the park is as bustling as gets during the winter months--there's a pack of dogs romping in their park, a couple of old farts at the chess tables, and an enterprising hot dog vendor has set up near the playgrounds to peddle street meat to families with lots of children. The heat that radiates from the cart is a serious draw even if the hot dogs themselves aren't; the surrounding air is steamy and thick. So of course, that's where Shelby is! The teen has just made it to the front of the line and has exchanged a torn-up tenner for a couple of dogs and a bottle of pop. The pop's been slipped into the pocket of her coat and she's got a hot dog (with the works!) in each hand as she steps away. This...this is happiness. She might have lost her toque somewhere, her ears might be pink with cold, but life isn't half bad at the moment. Less so for Sebastian; he is approaching the cart as Shelby is leaving it, wallet in hand, but is summarily waved off with the same sort of expression someone might use to shoo a stray /dog/ from nosing around the cart. Nose wrinkling, he backs away from the line, scanning the surrounding park with a hopeful expression. He zeroes in on Shelby and her recent Hotdog Acquisition, hurrying up to the girl with a small (closed-lipped!) smile. "Hey," he says, brightly, "-- You mind helping me out?" Shelby is caught in the act of opening her mouth to disturbing proportions for a bite of the right-hand hot dog. Oops. Having missed the other teen's brush-off, she blinks once at Sebastian, then snaps her mouth shut to grin at him. "Hey!" Somehow that note of happy surprise doesn't quite jive with being approached this way but stranger things have happened. She'd wave, if she had any hands free. Instead a chin-jerk is offered in lieu of. "Sure, man. What's up? Check it out, they've got this two for one special right now, it's fucking amazing." Sebastian blinks, first one clear inner pair of eyelids and the the blue ones, at Shelby's cheerful greeting, but it just makes him smile a little broader. "Oh, I just, um. I wanted to get a couple dogs and the guy won't even take my money." He pulls a few bills from the wallet, offering them to Shelby hopefully. "You think you might help me score?" Like it's booze. Or drugs. Except for it's hot dogs. "I've got a craving." "What?" Shelby blinks again and cranes a look over her shoulder at the cart vendor. Her expression twists. "Fuck -that- noise," she proclaims, and then shoves her own hot dogs into his hands in exchange for the money. "Stay right here," he is instructed before she stomp stomp stomps over in her high-top sneakers. The line has shortened in the period between her hot dog binge and this new one; when the cart is once again reached, she goes all wide eyed and pitiful--until the bills are swapped out for two more dogs. -Then- she unleashes. "You got mutant cooties now, you racist fuck. -Twice-," she says in her Big Girl voice. There are gasps and a mother steers her kids away but Shelby is not at all concerned. She's got the dogs and they're borne back to Sebastian. Triumph! Sebastian is hanging back, watching this process with Shelby's hot dogs held in either hand. His eyes widen at her last words, and though a smile creeps across his face he is also looking around a little nervously at the park, shifting his head to pull the hood of his sweatshirt more over his face. He hides a laugh against one wrist as Shelby returns. "Wow, oh, uh, thanks, I just kind of wanted dinner. Now that was dinner /and/ a show. Thanks." His smile is brighter, although he is backing away from the cart and its immediate surroundings of Concerned Parents. "Sometimes you just /need/ some terrible cart food, you know?" Putting some distance between cart and the hot dog feast is probably a good idea, given the looks being cast their way. A couple of dads are doing a poor job of hiding their amusement but shock, disapproval and anger are in the majority. Shelby pads alongside the other teen but she doesn't look back--concentration is needed to begin the swapping process, considering there are four dogs to juggle here. "No problem. I knew that guy was a dick, anyway. Hopefully these taste better than he smelled. Here..." She offers the leftmost first. Oh, and oops: "I didn't get any change." Sebastian shrugs, balancing one cheap paper hot dog container atop the other so that he can take the dog from Shelby, offering her both hers back in one hand. "Wasn't that much change anyway. /And/ I got dinner. Uh. I think you scandalized some parents. Their kids might be corrupted forever if they know /mutants/ are around. It might," he confides quietly, wide-eyed, "convince one of them to be a mutant, too." "Oh no!" Shelby is horrified. -Horrified-. Also, eager to get back her hot dogs because fighting injustice has left her starving. "Maybe they'll catch it from his hot dogs now. He took the money," she laments, before taking a huge bite. A dollop of relish drips to her chin. She doesn't notice. "So," the girl mumbles around the mouthful, "how've oo bee'? 'ead any good boo's?" There's a pause while she chews--thankfully with mouth closed--and then she corrects herself, "Books?" "My money /was/ all horribly infected with mutancy. It's kind of like a plague. He'll pass it on to the next person he pays." Sebastian's pretty hungrily attacking his first hot dog, too, leaving the bun and just making quick work of the actual meat. "You have a relish," he says, once he's swallowed, extending a hand slightly towards Shelby but then drawing it back to just scuff a finger against his own chin. "Books?" He looks briefly confused, but smiles -- a little more uncertainly. "I, um, I've read a lot. Some for school. Most for not-school. Have -- uhm. Have you?" "Oh, Jesus." Shelby rakes the back of her wrist over her chin and inspects the damage. Relish everywhere! At least until she wipes it against her jacket, careless of such things as hygiene and making a good impression. "Thanks. Swear to god, if I don't spill on myself when I eat, I'm not doing it right...hey, bench." That's all the warning he gets before she veers to the right of the path. There -is- a bench, though it's snowdusted; she steps up onto it and sits on the back instead of the seat. Once settled, she shoots him a look of merry amusement. "Yeah? They're letting you in the bookstore? Lucky. I tried to sneak back in the other day and the manager was all, oh hell no." Sebastian trails along with Shelby as she moves off towards the bench, though he does so with a note of /bemusement/. "I -- usually get pretty messy when I eat," he allows carefully, watching Shelby with growing confusion as she talks. "What? The book -- the Strand?" His head shakes emphatically. "/I/ got kicked out of there the other day, I just wanted to get a book for school and they didn't -- why'd they kick /you/ out, you don't hardly look -- I mean you seem normal!" Shelby's eyebrows draw together. "Huh?" Now he's gone and confused her in turn, leaving her studying him with puzzled eyes. "You got...kicked out again? I don't get it." And truth be told, she seems just a little disappointed. The second dog is frowned at, turned around in her hands, frowned at again before she dares another glance at Sebastian. Then--the process can almost be seen--she decides that he simply must have forgotten. Which is -also- disappointing. "It's not a big deal, anyway. I mean, fuck, you only asked me to -dance-," she says, plastering on a grin to make a joke of it. "Yeah, I was trying to get a book for art history and they just wouldn't let me --" Sebastian frowns in confusion, though not distracted enough to not quickly wolf down the rest of his first hot dog. "I asked you -- no, I -- to dance?" Confusion has slid to a slow understanding, in Sebastian's expression, but even that, now, fades to surprise. "-- Shane asked you to dance?" Wait, what? Art school students will rue not being present, to capture the sequence of expressions that Shelby suffers. They're classic and make her thoughts fully visible--Shane? What the hell? Of course Shane, what are you talking about? Wait...you're not Shane? What the fuck? "So, uh. There's more than one blue dude with shark teeth and fish eyes running around? That's...good to know. I guess." Maybe. Mostly it's just weird and slightly creepy, leaving her to regard Sebastian with suspicion. "You're not just fucking with me, are you? 'Cause that's pretty low, dude. I mean, it's not like I get asked to dance a -lot-. Jesus." "Do you want to dance?" Sebastian asks, his smile quirking a little wider. He chomps into his second hotdog, dipping his head to drag it with his teeth out of its bun, a streak of mustart smeared yellow against his blue skin. "Only two of us, that I know. Um. Shane's my twin." "No." Oooh burn! Shelby is still playing the role of skeptic who may or may not be in the process of being fucked with. But at the word 'twin', her eyes widen and it all becomes clear. -Not- a weirdo! Relief makes her laugh. "What, seriously? Like, for real twins? Identical and everything? Oh my god...twin sharks. That's -amazing-." She reaches out to poke at his shoulder, as if there's some confirmational value in doing so. "You totally had me fooled! God, I feel like such an asshole...wait. So he's Shane, who're you then? -I'm- Shelby." "For real twins," Sebastian says with a laugh and another chomping bite of hot dog. Beneath the poking his shoulder is pretty shouldery. He rocks back a half-step with the touch. "For real identical twins. He's older. Four minutes. Even our pa gets confused sometimes." He rubs the back of his hand against his face, licking mustard off of it afterwards. "Shelby, huh? Wow, this is really alliterative. I'm 'bas -- mm, /Se/bastian. You were there when he got kicked out of the Strand?" "Oh shit! Your dad, that's Jax, right?" Another puzzle piece, and she's both thrilled and a little apprehensive to have slotted it in. Shelby leans forward, elbow on knees, and grins at him. "I was kinda -why- he got kicked out, yeah. He was giving me a hard time about being able to take care of myself, so I kinda tried to knee him in the balls. I mean, -pretend- tried. The manager was already giving us dirty looks for the dancing and I guess 'cause he sticks out, so I guess that was the last straw, y'know? Man, this is crazy. Shane and Sebastian." "Hey, you know my pa, too?" Sebastian brightens, bobbing his head in a nod. "Yeah, that's him. He's pretty much the best dad. Um. You did what?" Judging by his expression this strikes him as amusing. He dusts off a little of the snow on the other side of the bench, sitting down, finally, on the actual bench part. "You must've been getting along, he gets kinda bitey sometimes if you try uh --" He waves his hand vaguely. "/He/ told me he got kicked out for dancing because the manager hates fun." Shelby's next bite of hot dog is a distracted one--she's become less interested in food and more interested in -him-. "Mmf, yesh," she says before chewing and swallowing. "He's kinda helping me out with something. My, uh. Thing. Stuff. I was there when the asshole got shot and he was real nice to me after it." Shane's version of events leaves her amused again; she makes a burbly little sound in her throat that's got to signal humor. "That's kinda true, I guess. I found this book on learning how to dance but couldn't afford it so I was looking at the pictures and he came up and asked if I wanted to, so. We were gonna hang out after but he never called back." "Oh, that guy," Sebastian winces at the mention of Jim's shooting, nose crinkling. "I saw him after, that was -- you were there? That was terrible." Not terrible enough to put off his appetite. He scarfs down the last of the hot dog, leaving both buns untouched in their cardboard. "He's sorta scatterbrained," he apologizes for his brother, "could be he misplaced your number. I could yell at him for you. Have you been keeping up with the dancing? What kind of dance?" One bite is missing from it but Shelby has decided she's not hungry enough to finish the rest of the hot dog. She leans down to set it on the bench, gesturing to indicate he's welcome to it--if not afraid of cooties. "Yeah, it was pretty terrible." But! Subdued as her tone is saying that, she perks up immediately afterward. "Nah, it's okay. If he wants to, whatever, but it's not a big deal or anything. It was a waltz. I had this really dumb idea but it'd never work, so..." She sideeyes him. "I guess I maybe should've figured out you weren't him, you're kinda like...I dunno. Mellow?" "You /sure/?" Sebastian is already reaching for the abandoned hot dog, though, his own empty buns set down on the bench. "Dancing is never a dumb idea. I'm pretty alright at waltzing, but swing is way more fun." Her assessment earns a curl of a smile, and he shrugs a shoulder. "Iiii -- get in trouble with the cops less," is his agreement. "Do you get kicked out of places a lot?" "Go for it," she urges, grinning. "Swing's like that old stuff, right? Like in that movie with the chicks playing baseball? That's pretty awesome. I kinda sucked at the waltz, I think I'd probably kill someone if I tried swinging." Shelby stops to consider. "But Shane was worse, so that's okay." Ha! She amuses herself. Scuffing her feet to send a powdery wave of snow off of the bench seat, she says, "Sometimes. I kinda got caught fucking with a guy for hating mutants the other day, this old lady chased us out of the place with a broom. But not usually, now I got access to a shower regular, y'know? Mostly I just get watched if people think kids all steal or whatever." "Chicks playing baseball. I don't think I know that one. I don't watch a lot of --" Sebastian shrugs a shoulder. "But swing's great, it's way more energetic than a waltz. My pa tries to teach us dance but --" Another shrug. Sebastian's claws are extending, long and sharp to spear the hot dog and pull it out of its bun, taking a big bite. "You do that a lot?" He covers his mouth with one hand while he speaks, before swallowing and dropping his hand. "I mean, like with the stand just now. Actually um -- stand up to people who -- are dicks?" He squints at Shelby, looking her over more carefully. "Did you not have a shower before?" "You should, it's pretty funny. It's got Madonna in it. And what's his name...Tom Hanks." Culture, thy name is Shelby. With the snow cleared from the seat, she flops down to sit as normal people do. "That's right, Shane said your dad was into the whole dancing thing...huh? Oh, I guess. I mean, when it's not gonna get my ass kicked or whatever, right? It's stupid the way people act and kind of funny, watching them freak out when I...oh shit, you don't know what I do, huh? Here." She leans to the side to rummage around in her pocket. The pop is pulled out, set aside, and she goes back in to continue the search. Where is it...ah ha, a Sharpie! Bastian is given a wry look, even if she's probably incapable of defining wry. "I've been out on my own since I was like, thirteen." "Pretty dangerous sometimes, yeah, a lot of the city's only too happy to -- kick." Sebastian finishes Shelby's hot dog, too, licking his claws clean as he watches her rummaging. "Do? Naw. I don't know. Is it cool?" He is watching the Sharpie with interest, but his eyes lift to Shelby's face instead at this last proclamation. "How old are you now? Where do you go? I mean to shower. And I guess, uh, live." Shelby uncaps the Sharpie with her teeth and sticks the cap on the end, then turns her left palm up. "Sometimes I stay with this doctor, over in East Harlem. If I have the money for the subway," she says as she begins to draw on her skin. Noticeably absent is an answer to the age question. "He's pretty cool, wants to set up a place people like us can go get treated for whatever if we need to. Like a clinic. Look." There is a lady's eye now sketched in the center of her palm. When she lifts to turn her hand so Sebastian can see, the eye rolls in his direction as if looking and then flutters its lashes. "A clinic for -- Um. Wait, is that -- you know Dr. Saavedro?" Sebastian is looking at Shelby with even more curiosity, now. "Is he alright? Like, cool?" For a moment, distracted by this, he does not notice what Shelby is drawing, but then he glances down and blinks abruptly. His eyes widen. "Woah. Is that -- how do you -- what are you doing, there?" "Making it move," Shelby explains with much smugness. The eye continues to blink at Sebastian, occasionally glancing off to the side, until she curls her fingers into her palm and lowers her hand. "It's what I do, see. I can make pictures do what I want. That's what your dad's helping me with, seeing if I can get them to move from one thing to another, y'know?" The Sharpie is offered over to him. "Try it. Draw something," she instructs, her hand up on offer. "And yeah, that's the guy. He is pretty cool, so long as you don't fuck with his books. Totally into being like, super good." "Neeeeeat." Sebastian watches the eye for a moment, taking the Sharpie with a bit of distraction. "One thing to another? Like move off the page? Can you make them do anything?" he wonders, "or is it -- um." He bites down on his lip as he considers his phrasing, uncapping the Sharpie but for a moment just hovering its point over Shelby's hand. "Like. Eyes blink. That's what they do. Can you make it do things that eyes /wouldn't/ do? Like explode. Turn inside out. Grow flowers." He is drawing, now, a small bicycle, rudimentary in plain stark lines. "Super good?" he asks, as he sketches this. "But he's not, like, a creeper or anything? I mean. Scary. I know some doctors who --" He shrugs. "Just a little weird wanting to work on mutants." "Not so much, no." Shelby's head is a little down so she can watch the drawing take shape. "I mean, I could make the tires go square if I wanted to because that's just...I dunno. Moving the lines? But it's harder to make new things out of what's already there. If you drew a bunch of grass, I could make flowers show up because...flowers grow in grass, right?" She sounds uncertain, herself--but it makes sense in her head! "The doc isn't a creeper, hell no. I was kinda worried too because who lets some strange kid stay in their house, right? But he hasn't tried anything weird. He just likes helping. Which is kind of weird on its own but hey...showers." She grins. "Huh." Sebastian adds a fish on top of the bicycle, in the same rudimentary stick-figure style. Like Jesusfish on the back of cars. Except riding a bicycle. He recaps the Sharpie, offering it back. "So your mutation knows what things are. Uh. I mean, what things /should/ be. Like you can make flowers grow in grass but couldn't make them grow on an ocean? Or make a boat grow in the grass? That's -- sort of awesome." He sounds fascinated by this, eying her hand a long while before looking up at her. "It kinda creeped me out the first time I met him," he admits. "I was worried he'd --" He shrugs. "But it's cool if he's cool. I mean, showers. Are you staying with him like -- for /good/?" "Maybe I could one day." And maybe she'll try, now. Shelby sounds thoughtful as she focuses on the fish'n'bike. The fish's tail gives a little wiggle before the bike lurches forward. It flows over her fingers--taking their shape as it goes--onto her palm and then begins doing wheelies around her wrist. "Right now I'm trying to make it so they'll move from one thing to another. Like from one book to a different book, or from the page to me, you know? Or from me to you," she says with a return of the grin. It does dim somewhat as he speaks more on doctors. "Nah, probably not. I mean, he's nice and all but...you do that and then one day people are all like, "We can tell you what to do," and then I'll have to be all, "Fuck that, you're not my dad," and that'll be it. You thought he'd what?" "I don't know," Sebastian not-really-answers her last question first, "I've just known some doctors who wanted to work with mutants but not really in a good way." There's a frown creeping across his face, but it is pushed back in the face of a quick, amused smile. "Thaaat's -- kinda what happened with us and our pa," he admits, with a laugh. "We didn't really have anywhere so he took us in except then eventually I guess he /was/ my dad? Or at least we'd been there so long and it made sense and so he did the whole legal thing. Um. From me to you? That'd be /cool/. Like you could put pictures on /people/? From a page? Or steal tattoos." He looks amused at the last thought, smile lingering as he watches the bicycle move. Shelby wiggles her fingers and the bike scoots up to reach them, sending the fish bouncing off like a beach ball. "I heard some rumors about that too," she admits, "but I don't think he's one of those. He hasn't tried anything, anyway, and he -could- have." Her grin strengthens and goes lopsided. "Seriously? That's kind of cool. I mean, Jax is awesome so you kind've lucked out, huh? He thought it could be neat, like if people wanted to get rid of a tattoo. I haven't figured it out though. There's like this...-wall-. It sucks." "He's pretty awesome," Sebastian agrees easily, "it was definitely a way better deal than where we came from. It still is kinda strange sometimes, but, uh, he's pretty chill, so --" He shrugs a shoulder, rubbing at the back of his neck. "It can be hard," he says slowly, "to figure things out sometimes. Like, on your own. Do you have, uhm." His teeth drag against his lip. "My school," he says, slowly, "kinda. Teaches. Things like this." His fingers flick towards Shelby's hand. "Like helps people figure out how to use what they can do." Shelby closes her hand and lets it drop to her leg. She looks briefly at the lip-biting--that looks dangerous--before tilting her head. "What, you mean like a school for freaks?" At first the teen finds it a pretty funny idea. She laughs and goes from tilting her head to shaking it. Then, realizing that lip-biting and hesitation must mean he's serious, he's given a harder look. "For real? Huh. That must be pretty crazy too," she says, shifting somewhat uncomfortably on the bench. "No one's shut it down yet?" "Yeah," Sebastian says with a sheepish smile, "a school for freaks. I mean, it's a regular school /too/. But the teachers are really good at helping people -- learn. How to use --" He shrugs, eyes darting restlessly around the park and then returning to Shelby. "Not yet." His smile skews a little crooked. "It's kinda on the downlow, you know? Most people don't /know/. I hope it never gets shut down. Most of my friends there don't really have a lot of other place to /go/." "I guess maybe I shouldn't talk so loud, huh?" Shelby noticed that glance and grimaces. "Sorry. It's easier for me, y'know? Since I can pass and all. But...ugh. -Real- school." The moment of seriousness passes, leaving her quickly returning to goofing around. She theatrically rolls her eyes. "So if you wanna learn how to be better with what you do, you gotta suck down algebra and whatever. Gross," she says with a grin. "But still pretty cool. I mean, if you -want- to go to school and don't want to get..." She wiggles her fingers again, indicating the distant park-goers. "It was cool for me," Sebastian says, quiet, his smile still a little lopsided. "I'd never been to school before. It was the first place that --" He shrugs. "But, yeah. Real classes. They've got showers too, though. Three meals a day. It's pretty nice." Shelby's eyes cut back in his direction. This time, she has to bite her lip but it's to keep from laughing out loud. She shakes, briefly. Then, muffled, through her lips, she mumbles, "You're not my dad." Sebastian wrinkles his nose, but he's snorting a laugh, too. "Jeez, I hope not. Then it'd be pretty skeevy if I gave you my number." Which he is pulling a pen from his jacket pocket to /do/, though he stops to reconsider this statement: "Or, I guess, not skeevy. Probably if I was your dad you'd have it already." "Oh god, ewww! Gross!" This time, Shelby's shuddering is much stronger and far more dramatic. She holds up both hands and makes a cross of her forefingers. "Seriously, don't ever say something like that again, okay? I'm gonna need brain bleach now," she complains. But right after, she drops her hands and makes a 'gimme' gesture before turning said hand knuckles-up to serve as a place to write. Whoosh! The bike goes whipping by again, fish once more on the seat. Sebastian grins, bright and with a brief flash of teeth that is quickly gone again. He rests fingers under her hand, holding it in place as he neatly prints a number across the back of her hand, 'Bastian' written underneath. "Sorry. I was /going/ to ask to give you my number but then you said the dad thing. Really, though. If you're down here a lot. Shane and I don't live far. Maybe sometime I can show you a waltz /without/ getting kicked out of anywhere. Or, um, kneed in the balls, that's not usually a standard part of ballroom." Shelby holds still for the writing and once it's done, produces the Sharpie. More gesturing ensues. "Maybe you're not the nice twin after all, geez. Here, take mine too. Since Shane probably lost it or whatever." She air-writes until a hand is offered. "That'd be pretty cool though. Not the waltz, maybe, but the swing dancing thing sounds fun. I promise no knees...but I might step on your feet some." "Shane's always been the nice twin," Sebastian confides. He sounds amused as he holds a hand out, offering knuckles to Shelby, too. "People just get confused 'cuz of Shane curses more. Everyone missteps when they're learning. S'ok. Just don't wear boots and we'll be good." "Nothing wrong with cursing." Of course, she -would- say that. Shelby tucks her hand beneath his to steady it and inks her digits, black against blue. The bike makes a rush for his knuckles but ends up crashing, sending the fish flying around to her palm as she withdraws. "There. So yeah, gimme a call whenever. I'm down here a lot, the parents love it when I play Disney songs. Brings in lots of tips," she confides. "I should take off though, it's getting late and it's gonna be cold." Sebastian laughs at the crash of the bike, watching as the fish goes flying. "Maybe next time it'll make it." He glances down to his knuckles and then drops his hand, tipping a nod to Shelby. "Nothing wrong with Disney songs. I always sing along to /Hunchback/," he admits. He scoops their empty hot dog containers off the bench, stacking them up. "I'm at school during the week. Usually around on weekends, though. I'll --" He waggles his hand at her, with the fresh-inked number. "See you!" Another smile, and he is turning to go. Shelby hops off of the bench as well, stuffing the Sharpie back into her pocket. "See, that's another reason school sucks," she remarks before setting off at a trot in the direction of the subway. "See you!" It's a belated offering, made while trotting backwards, before she swings around again and is gone.