ArchivedLogs:Bobcat and the Wingman

Bobcat and the Wingman
Dramatis Personae Alex, Allison, Marinov
In Absentia	2017-08-05 Alex, Allison, and Marinov meet at Clothescycle. A new TV pilot is written.
Location <NYC> Clothescycle - Garment District
Selling clothing both new and used -- but mostly used -- this store often has something for those fashion-conscious but on a budget. There is a distinct alternative bent to many of the clothes (and many of the dyed-haired, pierced clientele that often show up) but for those willing to take the time to look through their racks and racks of clothing, there are gems to be found both in their newer and vintage sections. In their basement, for the adventurous, their dollar-a-pound section offers just what the name suggests: they sell clothing for a dollar per pound. The pickings are often unusual, to be sure, but for those handy with needle and thread, sometimes the heaps of fabric can be turned to creative use. Though the temperature outside in the cement and glass jungle of Manhattan is relatively cool given the approaching storm, inside the basement of Clothescycle is stifling and warm. A single oscillating fan hangs off a pillar, a meek gust of warm air slowly passing back and forth over the large piles of clothes scattered in unsorted heaps across the floor. There are not too many shoppers exploring the wilds of the dollar-a-pound mountain range today; an older babushka-looking woman and her grandson looking for scraps of cloth, a twenty-somethings hipster with black framed glasses, and a teenager with an almost shredded hoodie pulled over his head slowly sorting through a pile as far away from the others as possible. The teenager's face is stained with sweat, a drop slowly making its way down one cheek. With a wary glance at the three other people in the room, his hands fall down to his waist and he tugs the sweatshirt off of himself and uses it to blot the sweat off of his forehead and the glistening black feathers that make up his hair. Marinov steps down the stairs into the basement, which is their usual destination when coming to the Clothescycle. The felinoid teen is presently wearing a white button up with a diagonally striped green and black tie along with a pair of black slacks evidently designed for their unusual build. They sniff lightly at the air upon arriving, showing their teeth for a moment after doing so. Their ears flick lightly and the teen starts over in Alex's direction. "Hey. You sme- seem familiar." It's not every day that a popstar may visit this discount clothing store, but in walks Allison Blaire. Today she's wearing a pair of shorts that could quite possibly be considered undies at this point, a pair of running sneakers and a sleeveless white shirt with pink words across the front that says: Love Everyone. She waves a hand along her neck at the heat in the room despite making her way over to a rack of tops. When he's addressed, a brief look of prey-like fear flashes in Alex's eyes for a moment. It's gone a moment later, though, eyes flicking up and down Marinov and his head cocking to one side so as to better stare at the feline teen out of a single eye. "I don't imagine either of us have what they call forgettable faces," Alex says, voice quiet but with a smile playing on the edges of his lips. "Alex. I think I met you at the art show at Chimaera. It was your show, wasn't it?" The raven-haired teenager turns his gaze on Allison when she walks in but, paparazzi he is not; no recognition dawns on his face. Marinov recognizes the moment of fear and steps back slightly to give Alex a bit of extra space, and they dig their hands into their pockets. "You're saying I don't blend in a crowd? Huh," says Marinov, feigning puzzlement, "Yeah, Something Different, I was the organizer, but like, I depended on about a million people for that to work out." The teen glances over their shoulder and then does a double take and whispers, "Whoa. I've got myself a celebrity stalker." Louder, they call to Allison, "If you've changed your mind about the music video, you can talk to my agent!" As she picks her way through the shirts on a rack, most of which looks vintage with various rock bands on them, Allison plucks out a Pink Floyd shirt, followed by a Smashing Pumpkins top that is black with the word Zero across the chest. At the sound of Marinov's voice, she turns and glances over her shoulder. "Oh. Hey. Nice to see you again." She flops the pair of shirts over her shoulder, then plucks through a few more shirts to search for a Metallica one. "Can you dance?" "Must be something about your posture," Alex deadpans, eyes flicking down to move clothing around in one of the piles for a moment awkwardly. "It was an amazing show. I... didn't think I would ever get the chance to exhibit again. Thank you." The teenager says, a slight pink staining his cheeks. When Marinov turns to talk to Allison, Alex blinks several times. "A celebrity stalker?" His eyebrows raise up, looking curiously between the two. "Isn't that usually the other way around?" A beat. "Wait, you have an agent?" "Pozhalysta," says Marinov in response to Alex, "I was real glad that it went well for everyone, I was nervous about it for weeks. Or more." They crouch to pick through some clothes as well, and say in response to Allison: "I can dance, sure, like... the Charleston. But I mean, if you're actually looking for dancers for real for real, well... I actually do know some people." They pause and glance in Alex's direction, "Er, no, I don't actually have an agent. That'd be cool if I did, though, right?" "I have a squad of dancers that my management hires for my concerts." Allison says as she plucks out another shirt to size it up, then flips it over her shoulder. "Well, maybe if I see you at Evolve later tonight, I'll teach you a few things on the dance floor." She says with an amused grin to the fuzzy mutant with a wink before she starts past them. "Hey." She says to Alex on her way past, heading to the denim aisle. "Yeah, it'd be awesome. I wish I had an agent. Oh, h-hi." Alex says, raising a hand as Allison passes, a little bit stunned. He picks up a shirt, holds it up to himself and then places it back in the pile. Nope. Glancing to one side to judge the distance to Allison, Alex leans forward towards Marinov. "Who is that?" he asks, sotto voce. "She's gorgeous, but... a celebrity? Assume I live under a rock." Streets, technically. "I don't go up to the nightclub. They know me on sight and I'm too young to enter. I can't fool them there!" sighs Marinov dramatically. They hop a bit to get out of Allison's way, ears perking up when Alex talk to them. They reply with a hushed voice: "She does music, she does that song that's popular right now, 'Dazzler'. I dunno if you're into, like, music stuff. She was on The Voice." "Oh. That sucks. I didn't even know they had an age limit. Means I probably can't get in being I'm seventeen." Allison calls over as she plucks out a pair of skinny jeans, then holds them up against her hips to see how they fit. After a few twists and turns of her body, she flips them over her shoulder as well to go try them on in the dressing room. Alex shrugs his shoulders, eyes following Allison as she picks out a pair of jeans and holds it up to her body. His cheeks brighten and he breaks his gaze away from her, looking down at the clothing in front of him. "Wow. Yeah, I've heard the song; it's all over the place. Would be hard to miss it." The raven-boy sifts through the clothing pile, pulling out a new hoodie with just the beginnings of tattering around the edges and puts it aside. Always need more hoodies. "Didn't see the show, though. It's one of those... American Idol's ripoffs, right?" "You could probably try to fool them easier than me, though. It's been pointed out to me that I'm sorta recognizable. But I guess you are recognizable too, probably. But like, some people there were schoolmates of mine," remarks Marinov, nodding a few times in thought. Marinov rises when they find something that has a fabric they like. They raise their nose slightly to sniff again at the room. "Yeah, American Idol-like thing. I think that sorta thing would be fun to participate in, but like, I get boo'ed out of karaoke so..." They raise a hand and wobble-rotate it from side to side. As she heads for the fitting rooms, Allison glances over her shoulder at the pair of them, giving a quick grin before she sneaks in past the curtain. "I'm not exactly in line to be on any TV shows myself," Alex says, shifting slightly to tackle another mound of clothing nearer to Marinov. "At least, not on any of the shows I'd /want/ to be on. I'm sure there's some TV sideshow for mutants that would love to cast me." He shakes his head, picking up a shirt and holding it up to his chest for a moment before tossing it back on top of the hoodie in the keep pile. "Though I never got thrown out of karaoke before. I've got that going for me." His smile is hesitant, but present. "You should get thrown out of karaoke at least once in your life," suggests Marinov, "It's like, a rite of passage, part of growing up, I think." The felinoid teen glances towards the fitting room where Allison hid away and then continues, "But. Yeah, it's too bad that I think only, like, TV freakshows would probably cast us." They pick out a shirt that is quite large, looking at it appraisingly. "Though maybe some kind of terrible buddy cop movie is do-able." After a few minutes of working on her new skinny jeans and a black Floyd shirt, she pops back out to look at herself in the mirror. "Hey." She calls over to them. "Do these jeans work?" She asks as she twists side to side to try and get a look at herself. "I'm thinking of lining them with patches." "I'd be in for a buddy cop movie, as long as I get to be the one with the tortured past." Alex says, picking up another shirt. "You can be the loose cannon." He flicks his attention over when Allison calls, and his eyes widen. His previously faded blush burns back on his face in full, gaze flicking over her and then breaking away with what looks like physical effort. "Looks fine to me, eh." Alex mutters, looking through the pile of clothes with a fixed gaze. "He's the serious one with the feathered hair and the troubled past, they're the one with teeth like daggers and a problem with authority, together they're Mutant Cop Team," says Marinov, as if testing the tagline, "We can workshop the title." They take a step back to see Allison, "Yeah, you can pull those jeans off for sure. Good find!" They chuckle softly to themselves at Alex's reaction. Giving another look at herself in the mirror, Allison gives a nod of her head. "Cool. Thanks, boys. See you around the cafe then later?" She offers as she tugs the tag off the jeans as she heads for the counter. It appears she is going to wear them out. "And I'd watch that show. Sounds like it'd be really cool. Deuces." She calls over to them, then makes small talk with the cashier as she pays for the items with a number of bills she pulls out of her light green wallet. "Definitely need to think about the title. I feel like there's some more obvious pun here. The cats and the birds?" Alex pauses for a moment, an expression of awe coming over his face. "Wingman. The Panther and the Wingman?" As Allison heads towards the upstairs and the cashier, Alex's eyes flick up to watch her leave. "That was... odd. You're both going to Evolve?" he asks, curiously. "I mean, I'm assuming that you aren't spending much time at a lot of other cafe cum clubs." "Oh I'm not-" starts Marinov in response to Allison, but decides not to finish the thought, shrugging sheepishly towards Alex, "Yeah, I guess. I was gonna head to Evolve later anyways, because like, I spend way too much time there already, so what's a little more? If you want to head over too, that'd be cool." Their tail curls up and they tease, "You'd get a chance to get to know her better! Anyways, I'm gonna get these paid for. Seeya round, Wingman. You can add me on social media! I've always got my phone." They make a thumb tapping motion. Alex's cheeks burn, though his smile is a bit giddy looking as he looks down at the heap of clothing. "See you around, Bob." A brief pause, and Alex looks up at Marinov with a widening grin. "Short for bobcat." Another pause. "I'll work on it." he promises, laughter lightening his voice.