ArchivedLogs:Immortality

Immortality
Dramatis Personae Teague, Corey, Charlie	24 May 2015 '
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. A great many of the city's residents are at family cookouts or down at the shore on Memorial Day weekend, giving those remaining some much needed breathing room ...or those who don't necessarily belong to creep in for mischief. Early evening, the sun is still blazing down at the ten and a half acre park. Those enjoying it are scattered thinly. A single person sits in the dog run with a fat, panting pug-mix, two women, either mothers or nannies, patrol the park's perimeter while pushing their SUV-strollers, and two mutants cut through the middle of the park at a leisurely pace. Having just been bragging about making an annoying couple's engagement ring diamond disappear, just after the man had proposed, Teague hops daintily up onto the metal arm of a bench. His black canvas shoes bend without much resistance as he rises up onto the balls of his feet and slips up onto the back of the bench. Outstretching his arms for balance, he teeter-tots there for a moment before sliding back down onto the paved walkway. His eyes hidden behind a pair of trendy, round, black sunglasses. The rest of his attire is black, including his jean shorts that cut off mid-thigh, and his black tee, which has been cut at the sides, exposing a great deal of skin. The androgynous teen leaves his dark hair down, to whip around freely as he moves. Dressed in a pair of navy blue gym shorts with white stripes up the side and a green sleeveless shirt made of some fancy wicking technology, the well muscled Corey comes jogging down the sidewalk. Longish hair is mostly bunned up messily and he has a light sheen of sweat but he does not seem to be even slightly tired out as his trek moves along at a steady pace. Clipped to his waist is a little EMT ID mostly as a just in case, but his gaze passes over the populace as he goes by, a small smile across his lips. Sparsely populated as the park is, Charlie is still dressed in her Public attire, darkly-coloured in preparation for drawing less notice after dark for more of what has become, for her, frequent vandalism on anti-mutant signage. A navy hoodie with the hood pulled up covers most of her head and torso, a white-and-blue scarf over the lower half of her face, black knit capacitive fingertip gloves on her hands, grey camping pants draped over what appear to be truly oversized sneakers. A black backpack filled primarily with cloth-muffled spray paint cans rests on her back. She has a phone out, reviewing notes on signs to tag later. "Not as many just around here as other places, but enough to go back over later," she comments, pausing by the bench, as well. "Don't know what making diamonds disappear does good for anybody, though. Didn't steal it for money. And they either got insurance on the thing's gonna replace it or they go buy another one and feed the dirty diamond industry some more." Teague hops up onto the next bench and stops, turning on his heel to stare down at Charlie in disappointment. "Will you put your mobile away for even just one moment," he sighs, gesturing towards the approaching jogger in a lazy manner, "You'll miss out on the scenery." This bench has a middle arm-rest, which he hops to, "Oh, damn, you're right. I didn't even think of insurance. Pity." The jog slows down a little bit as he notices the gaze on him from the two at the bench and as the one in the black with more black hops up on the arm rest he raises a brow. "Careful there," Corey calls out from the path, the tone pretty good natured and more the voice of a concerned caregiver than just some asshole yelling at the kids. He does pay a bit more attention to the one all bundled up in the warm air a moment, but pulls his gaze away before he gets called on staring too much since he doesn't want to draw extra attention. Charlie finishes going over her list before she does stuff the phone into her pocket. "I got a thing I'm doing. Might not be big but I ain't been given nothing bigger yet," she explains with a shrug. "Yeah, usually there's an insurance for anything people pay a stupid amount of money for, especially if it's small and easy to steal or break or lose." Her gaze is drawn over to Corey at the sweep of arm. Looking directly at the man, her wide doe-eyes and soft brown fur might be somewhat visible under the hood. "Ha. Bench not even that high. He falls, we all get a good laugh, he gets back up again." Her grin can be noted only by a twitching of the scarf over her face. "Why don't you do tags on the ground at crosswalks, for when people have to stop and they look down? There are loads of 'em about cat-calling and everything. It's cute." When he's told to be careful, Teague twitches both palms up into full view. "Sorry, dad!" The British teen calls back with a cat-like smile. Sliding back down to join Charlie on ground, he breathes out a laugh, "Think he heard me call him the scenery?" He elbows at the rabbit girl in a chummy fashion, though with no intention of actually elbowing her. Coming to a halt Corey chuckles and shakes his head. "I've had to go on calls on people breaking their foot stepping off the side walk, so I wouldn't say anything is impossible." He raises his brow at the dad comment, then shakes his head as the two talk back together. "No, I hadn't heard that. Good hearing, not superbly so." He glances again at the hoodied one having noted the doe eyes and fur. "Just be careful anyway. The city is full of stupid people." "'Cause I'm messing up these signs particular. They're trouble and they look official. It's /inviting/ people to hurt and kill us. Some of us not so good at taking care of ourselves, either." Charlie frowns, a different sort of tug at the scarf, thinking about the glowing girl she had taken to a safe house. A chuff of laughter puffs at the scarf. "Don't think it matters if he heard you. Walking wall of muscle with romance novel hair, sure he gets his share of ogling from the girls /and/ the boys." Not that she's bothering to keep her voice low, either, so the man is likely enough to hear that, too. "You actually hurt yourself falling off the bench, I got not promises not to laugh, either, man." She answers Corey's admonishment with a 'hm'. "Everywhere's full of stupid people. Crawl all over the place like bugs, just keep making more of 'em." "We are the stupid people, mister," Teague delivers in a confident monotone, arms hanging limply at his sides. He intended it to be a reference from The Craft, and even as it doesn't come out quite as one could hope, he doesn't seem vexed from behind his black-out sunglasses. "Oh, just about more than enough for there to be a voting majority of them it seems," Corey offers back with a shrug. He does seem to not be particularly reacting to the commentary of his romance novel state of being, having long since phased it out by now in the city. "Already been enough to Mendel that I could do it in my sleep, so I try to be proactive about it when I can." “Speak for yourself, payaso,” Charlie returns with a bit of a playful snort directed at Teague. “More than just that many, I'd say.” Her head tilts a little at the Mendel comment. “I heard they wasn't supposed to be an emergency facility.” Sliding his sunglasses partway down the bridge of his nose, Teague offers Charlie a little look of endearment. Though he's caught wind of the Mendel Clinic, he doesn't know enough to speak of it. For his part, he produces his pack of cigarettes. Slapping the box against the heel of his hand, as smokers do, he prowls halfway around Corey while Charlie interrogates him -ahem, talks to him. Corey's mood goes flat at that as he lets out a sigh. "Not supposed to, and being the only place that will accept someone are not entirely exclusionary concepts," he replies as he shakes his head. "We call it in, and oh look suddenly we can't take someone there. Or we get there, and suddenly booked up. Sometimes it is blatant, sometimes it is subtle. Either way, we gotta go where we can go." He runs a hand across his brow to get some of the sweat beading up off it. "Can only buy someone so much time." The young man prepping to smoke gets the look, but no words follow at least. Charlie just nods at Corey's explanation, a little easier in her posture. “Yeah, stupid people, they got the white coats on sometimes, too.” She glances over at Teague, then at Corey, another bunching of the scarf on her face betraying a smirk. “Oh man, there's a fight you're not winning. Those kill you slow enough you don't need to be taking nobody anywhere, though.” Bringing a cigarette to his lips, Teague flashes a sultry eyed look of his own to Corey, tossing some hair away from his face as he flicks a silver ...and diamond... zippo. He doesn't blow any smoke in the health-conscious man's face, and that's showing a great deal of restraint. Holding the thin, white stick just slightly away from his face, he smiles cat-like, "You only live twice." "White coat, suits, whatever. Either way, stupid. Or jackass if you'd prefer," Corey offers with a shrug. "Oh I know. You can't beat a smoker when it comes to being stubborn. I'm just glad I'm not susceptible to the secondhand effects." He glances to Teague with a grin. "Depends on the person. I've heard some actually get a good number of extra go rounds. Me, I just plan on living forever. May only hit a century, but hey shoot for the moon." The way his body looks at least doesn't seem to put any lie to his words. "Ha, you just lucky he don't pull out that Cruella De Ville holder he's got. Never seen a one of those in person 'til this guy." Not that Charlie isn't enough of a smoker herself, but she's keeping her scarf up out here, so it is easier to be accommodating. "You stop doubting things, you see enough of what people can do, yeah?" "I was actually going for more of a Breakfast at Tiffany's feel, but Fufu here brings out the furrier in me," Teague smirks and motions lazily, a trail of smoke following the gesture. Finally seeming to take some sincere interest in the jogger besides his looks, he peeks over his sunglasses again, "So, you'd have us believe you're some manner of immortal, is what you're saying?" He side-bars to Charlie, "He does look a bit like a Norse God." Chuckling, Corey smiles as replies, "As long as he doesn't have a coat made of puppies, I think I'd be alright." Stretching a little since his jogging is currently paused, he seems to think at the question. "Yeah I tend to see people at their worst, and well, when people are at their worst all sortsa things happen. Thankfully they mostly want help when they actually need us." Tilting his head at the immortal comment, he shakes his head. "Oh probably not, but it would be nice to be able to live however long you'd like. Not being able to die at all sounds like you're setting yourself up for one of those Myths or Fairy tales about watching what you wish for." “Yeah, you try it, fancypants,” Charlie returns with no real heat to the words. “That I haven't seen, so I couldn't say.” Another chuff of laughter comes at the immortal depiction. “Man, he some kinda sad immortal, hoping on a century. Can't even outlast granny from the fishing village or whoever they keep making a big deal is the oldest person in the world.” She nods briefly in agreement. “Yeah...sticking around for all of this for eternity does sound like a bit /much/.” "That it does," Teague sighs, combing a few fingers through his hair, "I'd rather die young and beautiful. Fighting a shark or something." He takes a drag, cringing pathetically over to Charlie, "Maybe in an unexpected public signage defacing accident." ... "And I don't own any fur, actually. Which reminds me, mate. We ought to find a shady pawn shop at some point. Make use, yeah?" "Thought the oldest person was an old lady in Detroit. Buck sixteen, didn't have any special secrets or anything to it." Corey says thoughtfully. "And if you want to die fighting a shark, well there aren't too many options for that to happen on land. Not saying there aren't any. But you'd probably have better luck in the water." He raised a brow at the sign defacing, but doesn't inquire further. "Not gonna be beautiful anymore, time you're done fighting a shark," Charlie teases. "And you die vandalising signs, it isn't unexpected or an accident. It's somebody tangling with you over vandalising those particular signs and you not winning. No doubt about it." She laughs again at something Corey says. "Man, landsharks. They actually exist." Turning to Teague, she adds, "No fighting those ones, though. Keeping open one of the only places I can /go/ to, get some food and coffee. Like having them around." On that theme, she shakes her head. "You don't want me going to no shop with you. I need something like that, I use eBay or something. Most places aren't good with me coming in, you know." Teague flicks the remaining butt of his cigarette away, "An anthromorphic shark? No shit." He smiles a little, "Nn-no, no. I have some things to try and unload. But if you'd rather not go in, we can split up. Give me some of those supplies and a few locations if you like." He nods towards Corey, as if he's totally privy to what's going on, "I won't have Thor here gossiping that I didn't help you at all." "Ah I didn't intend to interrupt any of your plans," Corey says and he starts to stretch his legs out again. "I should get my laps finished anyway and get to work. So you have fun doing things that I have plausible deniability concerning and I can continue to be a fine and upstanding member of the community." Itching behind his ear, he rolls his shoulders and loosens his neck back up. "So stay safe, and I can hope and pray that I won't see you in my work capacity." “You'll get a better deal without me, most like. Some places are okay, but you never know before you get there. I mean, unless they explicitly have signs saying it's going to be /bad/.” Charlie shrugs. “Can do that, or you call me when you want to meet up and we do that way.” A gloved hand lifts to offer Corey a wave. “Nothing that serious, but probably a good idea for you. Have a good run.” "Cheers," Teague watches Corey go, only gradually drawing back his attention to Charlie. Remaining stoic, he just waggles his eyebrows. "Nnnah. I'll wait to go," he hops up on his feet, prance-stepping to continue on in the direction the pair had been going originally, "No way am I letting you have /all/ the fun."