ArchivedLogs:It's Complicated

It's Complicated
Dramatis Personae Daniel Ketch, Daiki, Melinda, Shane	2014-10-26 '
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 plentiful 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. Sundays are not necessarily like the rest of the week at Evolve. The crowd has a certain feeling to it. It's a push, a desire, a thrum to get something done. Those trying to squeeze in a few more moments of partying inhabit the upper levels, dancing and drinking and striving to live each moment they have left, before the inevitable begins the next day. Those who have run out of time, but still can't stay home are spotted around the cafe section, reading and studying. There are still others engaged in close conversation with lovers and potential lovers, fervently strengthening the connection between each party. Melinda wanders in with an entirely different spirit to her. She is tired, that much is clear, from the dark circles under her eyes and the harried look to her hair style. Her long hair has been knotted into a hair band somewhere between her shoulders, the long lengths tamed by this small loop. She's dressed in a mustard yellow sweater over a pair of loose jeans, held up by a belt that hides under the hem of that sweater. Boots cover her feet and hide under her cuffs, while a brown jacket loops over her arm. She glances around the room slowly, in no hurry to cram anything into the evening, slothing slowly to the coffee bar, attention drifting to the boards. Daniel enters shortly after Melinda, she more than likely saw him hanging near the entrance finishing up a cigarette. He appears to be heading the same place as her, and in much the same state. Tired, but not to the point he cannot function. He's clothed in a leather jacket with matching gloves, slim black jeans, and black biker boots. "Seems like everyone is either tired, partying, or flirting." he comments lightly behind her in line, hiding a yawn behind the back of his hand. "Hmm?" Melinda turns back to look at him, a moment of confusion on her features before a smile starts pull at her lips, her face relaxing, though her gaze lacks distinct focus. "Oh, well, you know Sundays. Most people are either feeling the call to party or the consequence of too much fun." She shrugs and turns mostly back to the cash register so she can order a pot of chai and a couple chocolate croissants. She then steps aside and lets Daniel order while she waits. "Never was big on partying myself." Daniel admits before stepping up to order a simple cup of black coffee. After paying he turns to look over the tables. "Nice place. Wonder if they're hiring." he muses more to himself than Melinda, clicking his tongue as he takes a sip and moves to free up the line. "Hiring? You need a job?" Melinda raises an eyebrow as she looks Daniel over, leaning partially against the reception line. She purses her lips as she looks over the counter, studying the way the barista is preparing her chai. "It's possible. Cafes generally have a high turn around, given the nature of the work. People don't tend to think of it as a long term job - well, aside from the lifers like myself." She gives a little shrug and looks him over again. "You have experience?" There are feet on the stairs thudding down rapidly from above just before a pair of teenagers comes practically racing down from above. /Maybe/ teenagers, anyway, it's hard to /tell/ with the smaller of the two, incredibly tiny and with rather inhuman features that make it really hard to /discern/ things like age or gender or race. Shane is dressed /kind/ of casually, for him, meaning that he has a pair of (neatly tailored) black /corduroys/ paired with his crisp dress shirt and houndstooth vest and bow tie. His companion is taller -- much taller, a bit over six feet but a stringy beanpole frame that doesn't make his height at all /imposing/. A slender Japanese youth with boxy black-rimmed glasses and a neat silver-edged blue knee-length tunic over darker slacks, he trails Shane, laughing, into the cafe, a rather infectious /warmth/ coming with his good mood that leaves people around him a little bit /cheerier/ and juuust a little bit magnetically /drawn/ to him. Just a little bit -- it earns him /smiles/ from people who otherwise wouldn't have paid attention to him, though it stops there. They /have/ maybe been heading for the door but a brief sniff at the air leads Shane over towards the counter instead, slouching himself down against it beside Melinda. "Yoooooo." Daiki is a little bit more formal, greeting the others with a polite dip of head that is almost a bow. "{Good evening,}" his greeting is in quiet Japanese though the rest has no trace of accent, "Have you tried the spiced snickerdoodles? They taste of chai masala, it is quite wonderful." "A little bit. Worked in a coffee shop when I was a little younger." Daniel replies with a light shrug. Anything else he might have been saying stops when the (maybe) teens run down the stairs. Upon approach he inclines his head politely. After a brief moment of quiet he adds on, "But I'd have no qualms working as a janitor or security. Back in New York for good now, so I need a job and a place to stay. Considering the commons." "Shane, dear," Melinda's smile gains warmth when the teenagers present themselves, but the only person she stretches out an arm to hug is the shorter blue one. "How're the crowds." She gives his shoulders one good squeeze with one arm before turning to bow her head to Daiki. "Well, that does sound good, but I've got a chocolate craving and when those croissants are toasted up, they're gooey and delicious on a crisp, autumn night." When Daniel speaks up again, Mel smiles at him and nods a little. "Ah, prior experience and everything. Don't know about security. That's not really my racket. Janitorial work can be steady, if you get in at a place that isn't prone to change." The mention of the commons raises an eyebrow, her chin tilting a little to the left. "Commons? Which commons?" "Commons, tragedy of," Shane volunteers, leaning into the hug with one arm curling back around Mel. "House of," Daiki interjects instead, lips curled into a very small smile. "Though I admit," he tips his head apologetically to Daniel, "you do not /look/ much like a politician, sir." "Never know. I bet at least some of them are bikers, spare-time. -- Shit now /I/ want a chocolate croissant." Shane frowns hungrily at the display case. "I will split one with you," Daiki offers. Daniel flashes Shane and Daiki an easy enough smile. "Harbor, it isn't too far from where I grew up." That smile is quickly replaces with a faint frown, before he visibly shakes it away. "Anyway, if there's a place available there I'll be sure to head that way then find a job, if not I'll pack up and head out, try around Brooklyn." Melinda might be rolling her eyes a little at the responses from the two younger men, head shaking a little. "Terrible, really..." She offers quietly. "I think he's referring to a physical location in New York." She sniffs at the easy explanation, then her lips purse a little more. "You've been in the neighborhood recently? How'd you hear about it?" She glances over at Shane, then quickly to Daiki, before peeling herself away from the counter to take up her tray. "Ah, I need a place to sit. You guys see anything?" "Pfft, you wouldn't want to live /that/ place. C'mon, the Lower East Side?" Shane's hairless ridge of brow hikes upward. "I hear this neighborhood's /swarming/ with goddamn freaks." "I think," Daiki suggests gently, "housing applications will go over more easily if you already have a job. The market around here can be quite tough." "A job and freaking roommates, Jegus, can't afford fucking anything bigger than a closet without --" Shane shakes his head, scanning the room with a frown. "Shit, I'll get that table for you." There is a pair of women /just/ leaving, inconveniently not bothering to bus their own table. Shane darts over to scoop their dishes up, darting not over to the busing station but around behind the counter to disappear into the kitchen. He returns in short order, dishes gone but a spray bottle and a couple paper towels in hand that he uses to wipe the nearby table down. "Look," he tells Mel triumphantly, "found you a seat." "Aesthetics never bothered me. They can't be any worse than me." Daniel says quietly, a hand coming up to straighten up his hair. When Shane walks off he exhales quietly and takes another sip from his coffee. He nods lightly at Daiki, "Always a good idea. But I have enough cash left over, and anything beats squatting in an abandoned warehouse. Hear stuff moving under the floorboards. Hope it's just rats." he clucks his tongue a bit, "C-squat still open? Might have to check that out until I get a room." "C-Squat?" Melinda's eyebrows climb her forehead in a pair this time. "Been here a while and I still find myself lost at the location lingo." She exhales and watches Shane dart around like he owns the place, her expression relaxing. When he presents the table, Mel's already shuffling in his direction and settling down on a chair like she's a bit stiff. She takes lifts the plate of croissants and offers it to the industrious teen. "Your reward, good sir." She glances over at Daniel once more. "If... you're lacking a home, I can hook you up with a place at a homeless shelter. It's clean, well managed, and they can help you get that job, so you can move on to bigger and better things." "I don't think he meant because you can't /afford/ it, dude, I think he meant because nobody's gonna /let/ you rent a fucking broom closet in Manhattan without income on paper. -- Not /even/," Shane says with a sudden baring of teeth that flashes bright and sharp, "C-squat -- it's goddamn gentrified with the rest of everything." Daiki looks just as puzzled at this name as Melinda. He turns his quizzical look to Shane and then Daniel, though /he/ claims a croissant off Mel's plate, breaking it unevenly and giving Shane the smaller of the pieces. "Melinda-sama's people are good people. If you need help settling." "Was a squat," Shane explains, "Alphabet City. More of a co-op, now. S'got a fucking /museum/ in it. Anyway, they're not the /kindest/ to freaks -- I mean, no policy or anything but, the occasional beatdown. -- Most of the shit moving around under abandoned warehouses is zombies," he adds with a snort to Daniel. "Nobody bothers much cleaning out the places nobody's living." "That's some shit." Daniel says with a slow exhale. "Always had the best shows over there." he moves to join the others at the table. "Trying to stay away from places where they beat mutants. Never could stand people getting treated like shit because of something they can't control." he tugs his gloves off and balls up his fists a few times before looking at the others. "Should head over and register.. Was hoping it'd get shot down. It's just not right, having innocent people sign up to be watched liked sex offenders. Gotta love the government and all their red tape." "Registered. Bah. I'm not. Can't stand the idea of it." Mel pours herself a cup of the masala chai, the sweet spiced scent starting to curl into the air. She sets the pot down and inhales over the top of the steaming cup before breaking apart her croissant and starting the nibble on a smaller hunk. "Most people dismiss homeless shelters out of hand because they don't like the idea of being helpless. You can swing by just for career advice, too. It's an address to put on job applications as well, which is important for a lot of employers." Shane grimaces, teeth baring down at the croissant that he claims from Daiki. "I'm not. Have a few months more to think about it." "I am," Daiki admits, softly, nibbling slowly at his piece of croissant. "It has caused some small amount of trouble, though as yet nothing -- calamitous." "He has a way of talking people out of giving him shit." This returns Shane's smile, toothy-sharp. "Anyway they still have shows there. And I'm sure lots of the people are fine just occasionally you get douchebags -- happens everywhere. People have this dumbshit idea that all the hippie punks are gonna be /better/ or whatever -- like some kind of freak solidarity -- but shit. /Other mutants/ beat the shit out of freaks like /me/, /humans/ definitely aren't going to be any better about it just because they're outcasts too. -- Why do you want to register?" From his abrupt switch of tone this question isn't said as a challenge, just a genuine curiosity. Daniel shrugs slightly before taking another sip of coffee. "It's the law. It might not be right, but it's the law. You get shit for registering, and you get shit for not. Beatings when you do register, but you can't get apartments or some jobs if you don't." He exhales slightly through his nose. "I'm worried I'll do something stupid though, something I can't control, and registering will just lead them right to my door." he admits after a few moments of silence. "Not like they have places that teach you to control what you can do. They either want to 'cure' you, or lock you up and stick needles in you. You just can't win." Melinda's brow furrows as she listens, her tiredness returning despite the cheer Daiki brings. She inhales deeply and lifts her mug, staring at the milky surface, speckled with tiny flecks of spice. She glances over to Daniel when he finishes. "It sounds like you're talking yourself into and out of it constantly." Her tone is dry. She moistens her lips, blows on the surface of her beverage, then takes a sip. "It is the law," Shane agrees, nose wrinkling up. "Know people who have, know people who haven't, s'shitty either way. My pa gets fucking cops at his door -- but then, he's a little more visible than most non-compliant. People." Daiki's eyes lower at the mention of locking up and sticking needles in. Though his expression and posture does not change otherwise, there's a sudden /sharp/ increase in the previously barely-noticeable aura of personal magnetism he carries, a much stronger /tug/ that sharpens the interest of people around him. Almost without thinking about it, Shane curls his arm around Daiki, leaning in closer to the taller boy. Daiki disengages quickly, giving his head a small shake. "I should return to campus," he demurs, squeezing Shane's shoulder and giving a small bow to the others. "Papers to finish. I wish you luck with your search, sir." He takes his croissant with him as he heads rather quickly for the door. "Not /every/ place is a bigoted shithole." Shane is clearly reluctant to /let/ Daiki go, but though his eyes follow the taller boy to the door he doesn't follow. "Just /almost/ every place. Anyway down at the Mendel Clinic they have fucking -- therapists and shit? Probably have some resources. For helping with that kind of thing." "That's the problem." Daniel admits to Melinda, before looking over at Shane and Daiki. "Take care." he tells the latter, flashing a genuinely warm smile. Once he's gone that thoughtful frown settles back on his face as he listens to Shane. "The Rider never cared for therapists or psychics." another sip of coffee "Only ever cared about his own sense of justice. Helping the innocent and all that, but often it seems like I'm spending my time protecting them from him." He stops talking now and looks up, and it's obvious from the look on his face that he didn't mean to say most of what he did out loud. "Sorry.. I ramble sometimes." Melinda leans toward Daiki as his pull grows stronger, her eyes closing as she continues to cup her tea. She turns her head and peeks as she feels him moving further away, but remains seated. She glances back toward Shane and frowns before glancing at Daniel. "The... Rider is your friend? Doesn't sound very nice. Sorry you have such a hard time." She licks her lips and swallows, then sets her cup down to start in on her croissant again. "And... rambling happens. Don't worry about it too much." "Uhh." Shane's brows lift sharply. "Sounds like a motherfucker badly in /need/ of a therapist and to hell with his ideas. You could stop by the clinic, see what sorts of things they could offer." Daniel shakes his head slightly. "It's complicated. He's a little bit closer than that, and he can be /very/ forceful." "Ah. Um. If he's abusing you, there are people who can help. I mean, he's not here now, right? You can talk freely?" Melinda glances over her shoulders to be sure there's no one staring at them. Shane's forehead now rumples inward, in some concern as the others speak. "I -- do you need someone to talk to? Cuz we know people --" His shoulder hitches up in a small shrug. "I mean, they're good people. You can talk to them about shit." Daniel shakes his head. "I'm not getting abused." there's a deep sigh, "It's just complicated. Trust me, I'm not the kind to stand by and take something like that." Melinda's frown grows deeper. "I... see. You should also know that covering for people - it's not something you should feel you have to do either." She drinks a little more deeply from her chai, giving herself time to pause. "'It's complicated' is something we hear a lot at the shelter. I think, if you wanted someone to talk to, you'd find someone there who would understand." Shane slinks away, disappearing into the back of the cafe and vanishing into the kitchen again. When he returns it's with a pamphlet and a business card, both for therapy services at the Mendel Clinic. "Just -- take care of yourself, alright?" If anything this appears to make Daniel a little bit more exasperated. "Guys, I appreciate it.. But.." he simply shakes his head and exhales slowly. "Thank you." "Just... Consider it, okay? The Mendel Clinic is doing good work helping mutants with health issues, both physically and mentally, and standard care, as well as mutation specific care. There's help there." Melinda is hestitant, quieting and withdrawing from the conversation in reaction to Daniel's growing discomfort. She gives one last little smile and returns her attention to her tea. "Okay." Shane doesn't entirely lose his concerned look, but he drops it, instead pressing a kiss to the top of Mel's head. "I gotta get. Need to give Spence /all/ the hugs then get back to school. You don't need any venison, do you? I got a fuckton. Fresh. Gonna make some jerky." Daniel tucks the papers away and pushes to his feet. "You both have a good night." he has the common courtesy to take his own cup to the trash before he heads to the door, stopping about halfway there to bring a hand to his head. It's a brief moment before he starts again, only to stumble out the door. Melinda nods and waves to Daniel as he leaves - closing her eyes briefly for Shane's kiss as well. "Oh. Maybe, when you've made jerky of it. We don't cook much meat in the house. Tove's vegetarian and Tola isn't so keen on the smell." She gives a little shrug and takes a sip of her tea. "Tell Spence I love him, too, okay?"