ArchivedLogs:Birthday Drinks

Birthday Drinks
Caffeine first, alcohol later!
Dramatis Personae Melinda, Micah
In Absentia	23 February 2013 Micah runs into Melinda on her birthday! And proves chronically incapable of being Serious.
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Tucked down an alley, this out of the way coffee shop is easy to miss if you don't know what you're looking for. Unassuming from the outside, its inside makes up for it -- spacious, with abundant seating and plenty of plush couches and cozy armchairs along the room's edges. The coffee is good, the prices are cheap, and there is a definitive alternative vibe to the room, from the music they play to the art that hangs on the walls. The real draw to this place, though, stems from its client base -- one of the very few businesses in the city that is welcoming to mutants, Evolve has become widely popular as a hangout with that crowd, and it is quite common to see them among clientele and employees both. At night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits over the coffeehouse. It is raining again, but at least that means it is warm enough /not/ to be snowing. A small-framed young man in an orange knit Jayne hat and green puffy coat seems to have started a fight with the door to the coffee shop. The trouble is in getting his umbrella to close, get in the door, and not get everyone nearby wet in the process. The umbrella, in truth, has seen better days and keeps trying to flip upside down or close halfway or tear. “This was /not/ supposed to get this complicated, sorry.” Micah mutters at no one in particular, offering a lopsided grin to the same no one in particular, as he finally forces the thing closed and vacates the doorway for the next patrons trying to get in. The entryway is a bit wetter than once it was… Melinda has forsaken silly things like umbrellas in the fierce weather and enters the shop a little after Micah wettish. She's wearing a red peacoat which is kind of keeps the water off, and a hat, leaving her long hair wet and stringy. Her jeans are covered with wet spots, but her galoshes keep her feet nice and dry. She smiles at Micah when he finally lets others in and peels off her hat and tries to manage her hair. "Bah. Don't worry about it. Very few people actually melt from water these days." Melinda’s comment earns a more sincere smile, directed to her specifically. “Well, good to know that I’m not causing anyone permanent Wicked Witch damage. I’d hate for it to get all smoky and screamy in here on top of the…damp. The whole point of this thing was to /minimize/ my drippin’ all over the establishment. Guess that backfired.” Micah gives the umbrella an accusatory look. /Bad/ umbrella. No biscuit. “Please.” He gestures for Melinda to precede him in the queue. “I’ve already held you up as it is.” "Umbrellas are a wonderful thing - sometimes." Melinda nods to Micah and gets in line, wetting her lips. "You know what the most fascinating thing I've seen in regards to umbrella technology of late is? They've got this tubes the collapse in on themselves to form a thick disk, but when expanded cover the length of the umbrella fabric to keep it from dripping inside. They are wonderful. I make due with a grocery bag when I've got an umbrella with me." She keeps smoothing back her hair and squeezing it a bit, despite the fact that she doesn't wring anything out of it. “/Sometimes/ bein’ the operative word, yes,” Micah muses. He pulls off his knit hat, auburn hair gone entirely wild-spiky from the combination of wool and damp. The coat is unzipped as well during the wait, revealing a faded black-shirt-with-white-text reading ‘I’m here because you broke something.’ “I usually forget about the umbrella being wet after the fact. But at least it’s a smaller drip trail than a soppin’ person…” "It is. And some places of business have a rack at the front for the drying of umbrellas - but that's generally more of a spring thing." Melinda shrugs and glances at Micah's torso. "Hey. I like your shirt." The line at Evolve moves pretty well and soon they are near the register. Melinda orders a medium chai with no water and pays for a cranberry orange scone to go with it. Micah actually has to look down and read himself for a second, then looks back up with a wry grin. “Ah, thanks. It’s actually a /really bad/ joke.” He pauses to place his own order, a large coffee with just plain sugar (they still make those?) and an enormous blueberry muffin. Paying…involves fishing coins out to place with a few crumpled bills. Happily, there are still some extra coins to clink into the tip jar. Hazel eyes scan-dart around the room. It’s actually fairly crowded. “Hey…would you want to share a table?” "I would not mind at all. I was going to bring a book, but then I saw the rain, so..." Melinda receives a plate with her pastry first and continues to mill around the receiving end of the counter. "So, how is it a joke?" she asks lightly, curious. "I'm Mel, by the way." Micah nods, hair-mess bobbing with the movement. “Wet books are bad. The shirt…they make them for IT guys, mostly. I work in medical assistive tech. So, sometimes the ‘broke’ is the tech. More often the ‘broke’ is the people. A friend thought it was a ‘hilarious on so many levels’.” His never-ending grin morphs into a more sheepish version as he offers Melinda a hand in introduction. “I’m Micah. Nice to meet you, Mel.” Melinda shakes Micah's hand firmly then turns to take her drink. "I guess your friend has kind of a morbid sense of humor." She half turns and scans the room, watching as a small group vacates a small table. She starts walking toward it, however unclean it is. "Catch up when you're ready?" She flashes him another smile and claims the seat, gathering up whatever mess is left and trashing it for the leaving patrons, her order and hat saving their spot. Micah’s return handshake is strong as well, the hand itself quite callused from manual work. “Most of mine do, come to think of it…” He waves Mel over to the table as he waits for his order, which fortunately comes fairly quickly. Balancing hat, umbrella, cup, and plate, he hurries to catch her up. Cup, plate, and hat find a home on the table and the umbrella on the floor under a chair. He shrugs off the coat and places it over the back of his chair before moving to pull the opposite chair out for Mel. Mel smiles and laughs a little at the gesture and slips her coat off to rest on the back of a chair they are not using. It's far too damp to lean against dryly. She sits down in the chair Micah holds out and pulls it back in. "So, medical assisting tech? You know how all the different types of life support machines work? I think we're in a similar business." Micah takes his seat after Mel is situated. “Ha… I don’t do a lot of the hospital-grade machines, on account of I tend to be a direct-to-consumer operation. Oxygen tanks are about the most life support-y I’ve done in the past. My bread and butter is more in bracing, prosthetics, wheelchairs, and such. What is it you do?” He gives her an appraising look. “EMT, maybe?” He moves to take a sip of coffee, finds it still too hot, and starts picking at the top of the muffin instead. Melinda snickers lightly and shakes her head. "Oh, no. I was mostly joking. I'm a barista. Coffee slinger. Saving people's lives every morning with their daily jolt." She begins to break her scone apart. "Sorry. Prosthetics though, that's got to be good. I can only imagine how helpful that is to those who need them. I bet you can give some people the ability to be independent once more." Micah chuckles softly. “I still think I was close! You have to do everything /stat/ to keep people from dying of caffeine withdrawal.” A large chunk of muffin disappears into his mouth, a second taken to chew and swallow. “Yeah, it’s pretty rewarding work. I’ve been around it since I can remember. Keeps a challenge, too, assessing and managing human performance.” He pauses and gestures broadly to the surroundings. “Do you work here, or are you visiting the competition?” He lowers his voice to say ‘the competition’, like there’s big business in coffee spying. "Nah. This shop is not really competition. They're very much a niche market - and delightfully close to home." Melinda takes a practice taste of her chai and finds it cool enough for her well practiced tongue and drinks some down. "It seems rewarding. I had a friend once who was a temp in a prosthetics office. She loved it so much, she quit and went to school for it in Pennsylvania." She pops a bit of her scone in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. "What's the most complicated thing you've worked on - your real pride and joy?" Micah nods again. “Good for her. Heck, being in P.A. I might have run into her at some mid-Atlantic region continuing education courses. I did most of my work in D.C. and northern Virginia before moving here ‘bout seven months ago.” He sips tentatively at the coffee, with more success this time. Mel’s question earns a moment of pensive-face from Micah. “Huh. It’s hard to pick one /thing/ I enjoyed working on most. I tend to have more favourite patients than favourite devices… Though the most /complicated/ individual item I’ve worked on is the knee unit I’m using now. It’s got a full-on microprocessor and a sensory system with gyroscopes and accelerometers and all. Fancy stuff. I had the last generation model from the same company and have been helping them develop this one, tweak it, gather data in different environments using different suspension systems and foot units. It’s a rare thing to get yourself a guinea pig and specialist in the same person.” "Guinea pig and specialist? Well. That is interesting." Melinda raises her cup and salutes the other man, drinking down more chai. She continues to break apart her scones. "So, who are some of your favorite patients?" That question earns a huge, warm smile from Micah. "Mostly my favourite patients are kids who I see for a long time. I followed this little girl with proximal femoral focal deficiency and, they think, a mild form of dwarfism. Still doin' genetic testing when I moved up here. She is the /dancingest/ child I have ever in my life met. She's gettin' serious orthopaedic surgeries every time you turn around, and yet... Singin’ /and/ dancin’ with Beyonce. Scarin' everyone tryin' to do backflips off her walker. Takin' her dolls to get casted for orthoses. Quick as a whip." Melinda can't help but laugh at the description, shaking her head and quieting as she listens. "She sounds like a handful - and yet, I really wouldn't mind meeting her." She grins and finishes off her scone. "So you do really tiny work? Do the dolls get motorized braces as well, or are they pretty much static?" She takes to nibbling on the last crumbs. Micah chuckles a bit himself. “Hers just got a couple tiny mock ankle foot orthoses made with scrap low temperature thermoplastic and Velcro. It’s amazingly easy to make tiny doll braces. I’d honestly not thought to do it before her. Delights the little girls to death, though.” He’s poking those last bits of pastry that stick to the wrapper, trying to loosen them off. “I’m sure you get some excitin’ folk coming through your place, too, though. High volume of human interaction in the customer service field and all.” "You'd think, but most of the time, I have a three foot wide machine in my face and people yelling at me because I didn't put enough foam on something - or worse yet, too much foam, not enough drink." Melinda shakes her head and takes a sip. "Did you say anything to the barista that made your coffee today? It's not that social." She works a few lengths of hair free from behind her shoulders so that her head moves easier. "Yeah, there are some characters, but they all seem to blend together after a while out of sheer monotony." “Heaven /forbid/ there be too much foam!” Micah fans himself in mock Southern lady style. “People take things too seriously. No need to shout at folk over a drink. But you make a good point. Not much time for more than a ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ since I was busy talkin’ with you…which I guess is what most people are doin’. Well, not with you specifically, but with folks on the other side of the counter.” He pauses for another sip of coffee. “Where is it you do work? I’ll have to add it to my tour of New York coffee shops, since I’m all over the place on a daily basis. Good to know decent spots along the way.” "I'm at Montagues in Soho," Melinda admits with a little bit of pride. "And it's not just the way other people are talking amongst themselves, it's actually the caffeine-deprived -- depraved individuals behind them. Have you ever been between someone and their morning pick me up? They get so impatient waiting for their order to be served up because of the hurry they are in or the need to get it into their systems immediately. But all that urgency disappears when the drink is wrong - but the urgency remains for every other customer." She shrugs a little and smiles. "Bah. Listen to me go on. I really do like our customers. I just am not a fan of the morning rush. The ones who do have the time and no line to pressure them - some of them have really nice things to say." “Maybe I’ll see you there some time. And make sure to say nice things.” Micah smirks playfully at Mel over his coffee cup. “Can’t do enough to help put a little more civility out in the world. Especially in a world full of caffeine-deprived New Yorkers.” "Oh, I'm sure you do a good job of it. You're quite friendly in the few minutes that I've known you." Melinda sips more at her tea until she has reached the end of the cup. She sets it down and rests her hands in her lap. "I bet your bedside manner is a joy to those you work with." Micah draws breath to speak, but doesn’t at first. He’s decided the joke that came to mind isn’t /quite/ appropriate for a new acquaintance. The corner of his mouth twitches with amusement as he searches for something else to say instead. “I try my best. Don’t get many complaints….” "Oh good gravy," Melinda's brows climb on her forehead. She purses her lips and shakes her head a little. "One can have bedside manner and it be a completely clean thought. I wasn't speculating how you are in bed." She shakes her head again and eyes him. "I'm sure you're very good at what you do." Micah laughs outright, blushing slightly. “I very specifically didn’t make that comment!” His tone is more joking than defensive, yet. “That’s just my brain. Has to make a joke out of everything. Are you making this worse on purpose now?” "Joke or innuendo?" Melinda questions, eyes narrowing a bit. "And no, I'm not purposefully making it worse. I just have a tendency to be very blunt." She shrugs and fiddles with her cup. "I don't mind - I don't mind at all. We can talk or joke about whatever you like." “Jokes, promise. I have to try on purpose to be serious. I can do it, though. See? Serious face.” Micah slides a hand in front of his face and manages /not/ to be grinning before it returns to the table. Serious Face. “I’ll behave.” "Oh, Please! No! Not on my account." Melinda raises both hands. "Seriousness is positively not allowed. I was actually going to check out the club upstairs once I got a little caffeine in my system. It's my birthday, you see, and I won't live it down with certain of my friends if I don't try to have some fun." She moves to stand. "You're more than welcome to come with me." Micah kills off the dregs of his coffee in a quick swig. Aaaand the grin is already back. He heaves an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Oh, good. That was already startin’ to strain… Hey, happy birthday! Sorry I didn’t know that earlier. Now it is /required/ that I buy you a drink. You got friends waitin’ for you upstairs?” He takes to his feet as well, gathering discarded items from the table to carry off to the trash. "Maybe. They usually hang out up there - but if not, I'll dance anyway." Melinda grabs her stuff and starts shaking it out and getting ready. "And thank you, in advance, for the drink."