ArchivedLogs:Changing Tactics

Changing Tactics
Dramatis Personae Hanna, Regan
In Absentia	2014-01-03 '
Location <NYC> Happy Cakes Bakery - TriBeCa
Happy Cakes Bakery is a cheery little spot of vintage charm amidst the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan neighborhood, a refurbished pair of row homes that hardly resemble their previous selves - the front walls are almost entirely gleaming glass, with the logo of the bakery painted onto the top, and rainbows of cupcakes dancing along the edges. Eclectically styled, it seems homey and welcoming - if the cross stitched sign by the door wasn't obvious enough - "All are Welcome!" it reads, with the "All" underlined in a sparkling bubble gum pink and yellow dotted line, with the logo of the bakery, a cheery smiling pink and white cupcake, beneath the lettering. Once inside, the walls of the combination bakery and coffee shop are covered in crisp clean white ceramic tile, with the occasional randomly placed tile with an color engraving of a tropical flower, or tile made of reclaimed China. Ambient music reminiscent of the Big Band era plays through the shop, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to make conversation difficult. Tables and chairs in a variety of sizes, colors, and styles fill one side of the room, none of them quite matching each other, but all of them seeming to work together. The other side of the shop is a long series of gleaming glass and chrome bakery displays, filled with colorful sweets and treats of every description. To one end of the counter is a gleaming chrome espresso machine with far more tubes and bobbles than is really necessary, but producing excellent espresso beverages. At the other end is the old style cash register, a chrome and cherry wood relic from a bygone age that dings cheerily with each sale. The wall behind the counter is covered in photos of a tropical island, as well as a pair of shops that look like a smaller version of this one, several including a pair of dark haired women. On the streets of New York, the snow has stopped falling, and begun to turn to the grimey slush underfoot as people begin to trudge out in search of coffee and lunch on this particularly cold afternoon. Happy Cakes Bakery has seen better days, but things seem to be looking up for the cheery little bakery - only one large plywood board covers a missing window pane, coated with wonderfully brilliant swirling designs in wintery colors, a homey little gingerbread house surrounded by snow. Inside, there is an momentary break in the modest lunch crowds, allowing a harried looking woman behind the counter to catch up on putting away dishes and restocking the shelves full of pastries and sandwiches. Hanna is bouncing along in time to the big band music that fills the warm, pleasantly warm bakery, humming quietly as she stacks a freshly washed collection of plates behind the counter. Several of the tables seem to have been repaired recently, although an effort has been made to make the repairs to the broken tables welcoming and comfortable. Finally taking a moment to catch her breath, Hanna leans against the counter, nibbling pensively on a sugar cookie and waiting for the next round of customers to come through. A blast of cold swirls in from outside as the door is pushed open again. Regan takes a moment in the doorway to stomp snow off her tall suede boots before continuing in, bundled up in boots and jeans and long knee-length white-and-grey coat with fur-trimmed hood. She pulls the hood back to tuck a stray wisp of hair behind her ear before pulling the jacket off entirely; underneath her soft cowl-necked sweater is a deep bloodred. Her eyes sweep the store first before moving to Hanna, a small smile pulling at her lips. "Trouble lately?" At the jingling of the little cluster of silver bells over the door, Hanna looks up, a cheery smile on her lips as she steps forward to greet Regan. "Hi! Welcome to Happy Cakes! Some weather, eh?" she questions cheerily, smoothing out the crisp white apron that protects her bright blue day dress from splatters or smears. The question about the state of the shop brings the slightest falter to her cheery smile, and she glances towards the broken window, "Ah, somewhat, though I suppose it is the same as most everyone in New York has had? There were issues with looters, and at least one zombie mistook a table for a snack or something. We've got most things back to normal, though, so there is that at least." Hanna offers a bright smile, "Anything I can get for you?" "I enjoy the weather," Regan answers with a warmer smile, draping her jacket over her arm. She takes a moment longer to wipe her boots by the door before heading further in. "Mmm. Normal. That's seemed a million miles away for a while, hasn't it? I'm glad you're finding some." She gives her head a small shake, continuing over to the display cases to eye the sweets within. "My inclination is to say chocolate but I think something with actual nutrition first would be best." "Eh, I love this town, in spite of it all. In spite of the weather, as well. I'm from a more tropical clime," Hanna answers with a chuckle, shaking her head, "I suppose I am getting more accustomed to the snow, the longer I'm here." Shaking her head, Hanna shrugs, looking around the cheery little shop, "At this point, it feels as though 'normal' might be just something a good number of us delude ourselves with to keep some semblance of hope. Just when you think things are on the way up, something else goes sideways. Maybe someday." Chuckling and tugging at the hem of her apron, Hanna's bright smile returns, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes, "Not the best lunch conversation. Apologies about that." She moves forward to lean against the counter, smile brightening her coffee colored eyes as she leans against the glass case full of pastries, "Pfft - pastries have nutrition. Sugar is totally an essential nutrient. As is chocolate." A hearty chuckle bubbles from the baker woman, as she gestures at the small selection of sandwiches, "Regardless, we have some wraps and sandwiches available. Not quite as much of a variety as we have in pastries, but a decent enough selection, I suppose. Any particular preferences?" "As am I," Regan answers with a note of amusement in regards to the weather. "I hated it. It's lovely to live in a place with actual seasons." Her smile doesn't dim at the talk of normal, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "Oh, I've got plenty of hope, sideways or not. Change is always coming. In what direction just depends who's fighting hardest for it. -- Hm. Roast beef. It seems like a roast beef kind of day. /And/ a chocolate croissant. And maybe a mocha, as long as I am chocolating I may as well /stack/ it." "I'm from Hawa'ii," Hanna says with a chuckle and a shrug, "But I have to say, the parks are quite lovely looking in the snow. It's the walking out to get anywhere that is the trouble." She smiles and continues going about collecting the order, arranging it neatly on little mismatched China plates - a larger one with a cheery tropical flower pattern and gold edging to hold the sandwhich, and a slightly smaller, delicate rose patterned one to hold the chocolate. "Chocolate always goes better with more chocolate, in my opinion," she says with a smile. Hanna sets the order on the counter, "I'll make youre mocha in just a moment - I'm afraid it's just me, my partner is a bit worse off for this weather than I am. Do you have a preference on type of milk?" She bounces over towards the coffee area, beginning to assemble the beverage, "Mm. Everything changes. Just never seems to be in my favor, no matter how hard I fight." She snorts, shaking her head at that, and waiting for the espresso to finish its hissing and steaming. "Southern California, myself." Regan slips a wallet out of the purse at her shoulder, leaning against the counter in clearly no real rush as Hanna prepares her coffee. "The weather's been getting to a lot of people, I guess. Though after this past fall I'll never look at /flu season/ the same way again. -- whole milk is good. I think with the chocolate-on-chocolate I'm clearly not watching my fat intake, here." Her head tips slightly to the side, watching Hanna with a small lift of brows. "Have you tried changing tactics?" Hanna smiles, chuckling as she steams the whole milk, "Ah. I passed through there, once upon a time in my wanderings. Feels like ages ago, though." She sets the mocha on the counter as well, and rings Regan up for the meal, "Season changes hit her rather hard, so she's had to limit how active she is. But, at least spring is on the way soon enough. Maybe things will pick up again then, for the better." The air around her almost seems to warm with happiness when she smiles, just briefly, "Eh, it's cold outside. Fortifying food and beverage is the appropriate thing for this time." She leans her back against the coffee counter, crossing her arms casually over her chest, "Your standing in the most recent tactic change. I figured I'd give the whole 'kill them with kindness' routine a shot. Lot of good it has done any of us. Attacks, vandalism. Kid was killed leaving the shop earlier in the year." Sighing and shaking her head, she gestures with a hand at the world outside in exasperation, "Not sure what the next tactic would be." Regan smiles, perhaps at the mocha or perhaps the greater warmth in the air. She opens up her wallet to pull out enough cash to cover the meal, offering the bills out to Hanna between two fingers. "A kid was killed?" Her brows raise again, lips pressing together thinly. "/Kindness/ doesn't win many wars. And as long as all the death continues, that's what this /is/." Hanna makes the change and returns it to Regan with a heavy sigh and a bow of her head, her smile fading, and her voice dropping to a hush, "Yeah. Fucking pigs shot him when he was leaving with his friends. His name was Ian." As warm as the area had been when she had been smiling, there's now a somewhat anxious tinge to the air, just briefly. She withdraws herself to the coffee counter again, crossing her arms, "I'm starting to get that feeling. The death, the accusations, the general bigotry. Can't say I'm exactly liking the way things are going right now." Hanna withdraws a small sugar cookie from a baggie in her apron pocket, popping it into her mouth with a sigh. "War. First time I've truly heard it put like that." "Ah. Ian." Regan draws in a very soft breath. "That was here, yes, wasn't it. I'm rather well acquainted with a --" Her eyes lower as she takes the change, dropping a few singles in the tip jar. "Friend of his." She shakes her head, snapping her wallet back shut and slipping it into her purse. She takes her mocha and her food to a table near the counter, draping her coat over the back of a chair. "Putting children in cages to fight to the death. Rounding people up in the streets to tear their abilities from them and give them to soldiers. Jailing anyone who tries to stop it. It /is/ war. And they have numbers on their side, but that just means fighting more strategically." Hanna nods in thanks at the tip, eyes drifting briefly towards the damaged window, the irises fading from the golden brown to an icy blue as she does. "Some days I wonder what it was that ripped my nightmares from my childhood and set them loose in New York," she says with a taught frown, nibbling slowly on her cookie. "Mm... they have numbers, but there is always something to be said for the element of surprise, of power. If nothing else, genetics have granted that to us," she mutters quietly, with a sheepish shrug. "Apologies miss. I suppose this is not the most appetizing conversation to be having," Hanna offers an apologetic smile, gesturing to the food, "I should let you enjoy your lunch in peace." "Oh, I don't know." Regan has a small smile on her faces as she slips into her seat with a nod of thanks for the food. "My appetite's certainly been more than whetted."