ArchivedLogs:Bodies

Bodies
Dramatis Personae Doug, Ion, Kay, Alan
In Absentia	2014-01-07 Ion and Kay make the Best Parents.
Location <NYC> Montagues - SoHo
Montagues harkens back to the day when SoHo was filled to the brim with artists, with its mismatched furniture, all plush and decorated heavily with carved wood, but remains trendy enough to keep its newer patrons by making sure that furniture is clean, in good repair and inviting. The antique tables all have been reinforced to seem less creaky. The real draw of the cafe is the smell: fresh roasted coffee mingles with perfectly steeped teas. Spices from crisp pastries mingle with the tang of clotted cream but don't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. It has been a long, cold day. Even with classes cancelled, Doug's had other things to do, and a fancy new job to chew on. But, the fact remains that it is oh-my-gods cold outside, and even the most stalwart upstate New Yorker can find himself taking solace in the warmth of a coffee shop. The blonde sits up near the front of the shop, dressed in black wool slacks and a light blue sweater over a white shirt, the cuffs rolled over the sweater and pushed up on his forearms to reveal the tiny tattooed line of binary that marks his right arm. His laptop open in front of him with a steaming cup of cocoa next to it, it doesn't look like he's been here very long -- his nose and ears are still ruddy-looking, and there's damp in the fringe of hair that falls into his eyes. His fingers aren't even on the keyboard, yet, perhaps forgotten in the deep thought the teenager seems to be engaged in; a mix of school responsibilities and awe for the magic of Stark's inner workings, spiked occasionally with a sharp pang of selfish guilt for feeling...well, more awesome than he probably should, given what's going on. Ion opens the door with /exuberance/. A brash chime of bells, a hard /thrust/ of arm, a brisk wind let in before he pushes the door quickly back closed behind himself, stomping high (shiny /expensive/) black boots by the door to shed them of the worst of their icy-slush. His tan skin is largely hidden behind a warm cashmere scarf wound around and around his face, though he peels it off once he's inside to draw in a large lungful of /warm/ air. "Tsss, wakes you up, doesn't it?" Maybe he's saying this to /noone/; maybe he's saying it to the barista as he approaches the counter with wide grin, starting to unbutton his dark coat. "Mmm, hey --" His dark eyes are scanning the cafe intently. Peering around the room, peering behind the counter, "you seen a little-shark anywhere here? Small. Blue. Uh -- shark... like. Think he work here no?" The blast of cold air when the door opens is enough to bring Doug out of his reverie, and he glances in that direction. His brow knits at the familiar voice, and there's a slow curl of his lip as the other youth's face is slowly revealed. He offers a probably-unseen waggle of fingers, and watches as Ion approaches the counter. The question gets a clearing of the blonde's throat, and he offers an apologetic sort of tilt to his mouth as he answers for the barista. "I know he was supposed to be working, but I don't think he's here." "Aww, shit," Ion answers witha small frown, "he must've had morning shift, I coulda sworn -- fuck it, I am so bad with time you know? It's all --" His hand wobbles in the air. "Wonky, who can keep /clocks/ straight." He moves his hand further out of his coat sleeve, revealing a -- probably /ridiculously/ expensive watch. Alligator skin bracelet. CRUSTED with diamonds. White gold case. He looks at it with a FLOURISH. Shakes his head sadly. "Should set an alarm no?" Doug chuffs a laugh, and glances at the counter before shifting green eyes in Ion's direction. "Yeah, well, I'm not sure that keeping to an actual schedule is his kind of thing," he says. "Especially right now. But maybe this is the exception. He like working here, from what I hear." At the revelation of the watch, he leans forward, glancing at it and whistling low. "With a watch like that, you should be on time everywhere," he says, offering a grin. "I'd be checking it all the time, just to make sure I hadn't had the damn thing stolen." He looks for a moment as if he might follow up with a question, but then he shakes his head, and picks up his mug of cocoa, sipping it thoughtfully. "Does that watch even /have/ an alarm?" "Oh-ho, I am. /Never/ on time," Ion admits easily, "but I for-damn-sure /know/ what time it is. Do you -- know what time it is?" Because now he is /flourishing/ his ridiculous watch in front of Doug. /Just/ in case Doug needs to know the time. "Maybe he late," he says of Shane, "maybe /he/ needs a watch, eh? Fff. Cold as balls out there maybe I will get, a," his fingers snap together. "Thing anyway. Hot thing." He sheds his leather duster -- beneath it his sweater is pretty /nice/ cashmere, too, a soft grey that does not /go/ with the utterly ostentatious gold-and-diamond chain necklace draped around his neck. "I don't know what it has, I didn't read the manual," he admits. "But it tell the time, that's good enough?" "-an' a HUGE slide. A slide with a slide ON it, okay? With a-..." "With a slide on top?" The door chime is partially muffled between a pair of voices - one exuberant, rising up from a young child with a blond crew cut and heavy jacket, big pompomp'd mittens and a floppy colorful ski hat - and the other a rough-burred tenor. This would be /Kay/, decked in rather high fashion bomber jacket and, to an eye that recognizes brands, a pair of sparkly Armani sunglasses, pants fitted to his skinny-ass legs with a NUMBER of chains swinging and bobbling off the side of his hip, turning at the door to toss a spent cigarette at the curb. "Yeah!" The little boy roars in... well, classic little-boy-roaring fashion, throwing up his mittenfists like a BODY BUILDER and taking off towards the table of two men at high velocity. "Ion-Ion-Ion-hi-mister." Doug gets a greeting too even! Kay is approaching at his own damn pace, blowing air out his cheeks, "Pffaaaaah, so 's he here? - Hey, I know you." Tossed - at Doug, with one thumb hooked in belt front. Doug makes a show of looking at the watch again, although there's a bit of an amused roll of his eyes as he does this. "Apparently it's time for me to check out awesome watches," he says wryly, leaning back in his chair. "I don't know if I've ever seen him with a watch," he admits, furrowing his brow. "So you could be right about him needing one." He wrinkles his nose and grins a bit. "Maybe not one so flashy, if he's wearing it to work." He watches as Ion sheds his outer layers, and smirks a bit. "They do good hot things here," he confirms, and then the door is opening again, and there is boisterous boyness coming through, which catches his attention. When the boy identifies Ion, there's a small light of small triumph in Doug's eyes as he glances in the cashmered teenager's direction before shifting back to Kay. "Oh, hey. I know you, too. My temporary neighbor." He holds up a hand. "How've you been?" "Woah-ho-ho-ho look who it /is/ it's the littlest monstertruck." Ion drops a hand to the smallthing's head, swiping ski hat so that he can ruffle at the blond hair underneath. "It is /always/ check-this-shit-out o'clock with me," he confirms cheerfully to Doug, as he jostles smallchild absently against his him. "/How/ many slides we going to put-on?" He shakes his head in negation at the question. "Nah, no smallshark! Think we missed 'im. I got the --" The watch /had/ been put away after Doug looked at it, beneath the sleeve of his sweater, but now he whips it out again to show Kay. "-- /time/ wrong maybe. Maybe on morning shift. Bah. You want a coffee, {monster}?" he offers down to the child. "Hell yeah," the kid butts into Ion's ruffling hand, "I mean - Hell...{yes}." He sets himself to treating the jostling like his own personal earthquake in a game of The Ground Is Lava, stepping his minimal weight onto Ion's foot and trying to fish a toe over to climb across to his other foot, one tongue pressed out of the side of his mouth in concentration. "Oh fuck," Kay sweeps off his sunglasses off and /taps/ them against Ion's watchface - tink tink - "Maybe we should have..." wait for it, "/synchronized/ our watches." He shoves up the sleeve of his own jacket exposing a... timepeace considerably more gaudy than Ion's, bright primary colors marking out the shapes in the center and blue alligator band, which makes the multi-diamond embellishments and white gold bezeling almost /worse/. ANYWAY. He drops his hand and grins HUGE and crooked at Doug, exposing a number of vaguely stained front teeth, "I'm a'right, SSDD, y'know? Wanna buy me a coffee?" "And me!" Chimes in the boy. Kay jerks a thumb towards him, "And him?" Doug watches the interplay between the two men and the kid's attempts to avoid the Lava, a smile curling one side of his mouth. The curl tightens when Kay shows off his watch, and the shake of his head is so slight as to be almost imperceptible. Kay's answer for his question gets a small shrug, the request getting a snort of amusement. "I figure a guy with a watch like that can afford a four dollar cup of coffee," he says wryly, closing one eye solemnly. "But, then, I also figure that buying that watch is why you can't." He wrinkles his nose. "And you were all right, when we hung out," he adds, screwing up his mouth in overexaggerated consideration. "I guess I could swing three coffees." He grins. "But refills are on you." "Oh shiiiit son you got the same time as me, eh? Eh?" Ion of course now has to CHECK this, dragging Kay's arm over to inspect. Watch #1. Watch #2. He drops his hand to take each of SmallChildHands, ropy arms providing balance for this game as he carefully steps with smallboyattachment on his foot to peer at the menu. "Ho, {shit, yes,}" his Spanish is abruptly gleeful, "/Surprise/ free coffee, today is my /day/. And yah keeping yourself in such /style/ --" He is gesturing to his /atrociously/ gaudy necklace, Kay's /atrociously/ gaudy watch, "-- takes no small-bit of work. You are an alright dude, FriendOfDusk. -- I'mm'a get a mate. You want a mocha, little-monster?" Instant answer, Kay wings it: "Yeah. Totally," hiss features are perpetually fixed in a huge somehow vulpine grin, "Hung out. You old...," he shoves forward a hand, encased in sleeveless black cloves, to offer Doug a righteous fistbump, "--/you/." He drops into a seat across from Doug, calling after Ion, "Pff, you cholo bastard, you could /set/ your watch off my watch. Get me a seasonal-thing. Fucking... eggnog and whipped cream. Three sugars." Three sugars in /whatever/ he gets, yes. Leaning back in his seat, rocking backwards on the rear legs, he grows slightly less jovial, though more casual than grim, asking Doug, "How're things, round the Lofts." The young boy hangs sternly off Ion's hands, turned around to face forward with one little foot planted on either if Ion's feet, matching him stride for stride and informing him grimly, "Uh huh. You're my Jaeger, okay." Doug knits his brow a bit at the offered fist, the corner of his mouth lifting in an uncertain smile. He lifts his hand to bump his knuckles against the other man's before dropping it back to the table. "It's /Doug/," he calls after Ion with a bit of exasperation. "C'mon. It's not even that hard to pronounce." He's smiling, though, as he waggles his fingers at the barista, indicating his intent to pay. It fades at Kay's question, flattening into a tight line. "I haven't been around much, but it hasn't been so great, lately. Bunch of people got served evictions, and all the stuff with Jax and Dusk and that Rogers guy...." he lifts a hand, inhaling deeply and exhaling in a sorrowful hum. "The mood's been pretty grim." "Pewpew," Ion agrees, heavily lumber-marching now over towards the counter, "and we are going to wreck the /shit/ of some coffees, yeah? Terrible caffeine /scourge/ plaguing New York we are /on/ the case though." Thump, thump, "Pew," announces their arrival at the counter; Ion's arms lift to /swing/ SmallChild upwards into CounterView. "My pilot he's having a /mocha/. And for me, maybe, big-mate. The biggest of mate. And the most ridiculously holiday drink you /have/ for my friend. Three sugars. Eggnog latte." He actually waves the /boy's/ hand over towards Kay in indication rather than his own. "Tsss," he calls back towards Doug as he sets the child back on his boots. "That-all is the biggest crock of /bull/-shits, eh, Loftie? The evictions I heard, yeah? It was before all this mess even. I tell you, there's a lot of motherfuckers need to /burn/." The barista waves an acknowledgement to Doug, her smile rapidly compressing into something less confident when Ion orders a... Mocha. For a six-year-old. Deargod she hopes he's kidding. The boy isn't helping at all, he dangles from his arms at counter-height with a stern serious-business FROWN at her. Saying in a husky growl. "I'ma pilot, okaylady. My name's... Pilot. Pewpew. Ksshshhorrwrl!" Explosionsound. He has to arch his whole BACK to demonstrate how huge this explosion is. Over where he sits, Kay laces his fingers together and pumps them over his head like a boxing winner when Ion describes HIS drink. It's generally independent of his conversation, arms dropping back down, "/Someone's/ gonna, soon enough. Can't wait to see what malformed counter-cock they try whipping out to answer all the people," sorry Doug, he's leaning forward to look over your shoulder at whatever you're doing on your computer, "coming out now-a-day about the labs." "It's complete bullshit," Doug says to Ion, wrinkling his nose. "Everything about it's messed up." He frowns, and drubs his fingers against the edge of his laptop. "There's shit going down that I wouldn't have even thought possible in America." His mouth quirks, and he lifts a shoulder. "Not sure burning would take care of the problem. It'd be like a hydra -- take one out, two more would pop up. That's a lot of bodies. On both sides." On the laptop's screen, there are two windows, each scrolling code at equal speed. Below them, a 3D spikey-haired black-and-yellow CGI robot shifts forms -- robot, helicopter, car, and several other modes of transportation before back to robot -- in pulses that match the shifting code. Kay's wish gets a dry chuff that's almost a laugh. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be a doozy," he says. "If there's one thing that people like that are good at, it's spin." "He's got all the coffees," Ion reaffirms once he has placed this order, waving SmallChildHand towards Doug again. And then sternly marching them back towards the table. "Ffah, blondie, there are so-many bodies /already/. Is about /time/ their count started to match, no?" His teeth bare hard and fierce on the subject of /America/, though. "Nino, I been through /so/-many countries, you want to have one guess which was the first to lock me up and torture me? Land of the goddamn /free/. Americans, all so /proud/." "Not fighting sure as shit hasn't stopped them trying to kill us off." Kay twists up the side of his mouth, his wired lively-fixed eyes never seeming to /blink/ enough, taking his gander at Doug's computer and rocking back into his seat again, leaving behind a faint scent of char and brimstone. He makes a finger-pistol and cocks it out the window at a passing man on the street, "Chk-chk - We'd just be evening out the numbers. Never learned to walk away from a fight just 'cause it'd be /hard/." Clearly this outlook all makes perfect sense to KAY. "Doooo-chkaaah. Doooo-chkaaah." The young boy - PILOT, as he's apparently named himself - is making deep machine-walking sounds for Ion's striding locomotion, walking in time with him once again. Perhaps it says something, about the times. About many things. That he is growly little-boy voice picks up enough of the conversation to agree, as if to himself, "/Dead/ bodies. Everywhere." Near enough to the table, he can climb up into Kay's lap, to fish around for Kay's sunglasses, shoving them onto the face. "That's a good song," Kay muses dreamily, letting himself be climbed. Doug lifts a shoulder, his mouth pulling to one side. "Yeah, but what's the old quote? 'The problem with an eye for an eye is eventually everyone ends up blind?'" He shrugs again, and shakes his head. "I don't shy away from /hard/. Just...deadly." He presses his lips together at Ion's revelation, and he exhales heavily through his nose. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says. "But like I said, it's not something I would have even thought was possible, a year ago." Perhaps in a further sign of the times, Doug seems unfazed by such violent thoughts expressed by a tiny boy, although he's not quite as enraptured as Kay. "I dunno," he says in response to Kay. "I'm getting a bit tired of it. It'd be nice to hear a new tune for a while."