ArchivedLogs:Bonafide Mutants

Bonafide Mutants
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Josiah	2014-03-14 '
Location <NYC> Home - Greenwich Village
Nestled into the heart of the Village, Home is an unobtrusive place, with an unobtrusive name to match. A nondescript storefront opens up into an equally nondescript cafe, plain tiled floors, an assortment of veneered tables with plain wooden chairs or booths with cracking vinyl benches. What it /does/ have to recommend it is the food, hearty solid breakfast and brunch served twenty-four hours a day, with a wide variety of menu to cater to specialized diets as well. Well-known to locals and little frequented by tourists, its friendly serving staff tend to remember their regulars, giving the place a warm feel that lives up to its name. It's not actually breakfast time, being quite /late/ at night, but around New York that certainly doesn't stop anyone: Home is cheery-bright and filled, even at this late hour, with the delicious smells of brunchtime. It's not overly crowded -- there'll be a rush much later when the /clubs/ start winding down but in this in-between hour, far too late for dinner, far too early for nightlife to be quieting, there's only a few people sparsely populating the tables here. A trio of young women all looking more at their cellphones than each other over in a corner booth, a man sitting alone at one of the high tables by the window, a man and woman engaged in bright conversation off in the back. Dusk has already claimed a table, somewhere near the center of the room; he's shed his long trenchcoat and draped it over one of the other three chairs at it, leaving him in only long-sleeved grey-and-blue striped tee, jeans, Vans sneakers. He's a regular enough here that the waitress has /brought/ him a stool, swapping it out for the normal chair that would be here -- backless, it leaves plenty of space behind him for his enormous wings to drape down towards the ground. There's a restless energy to him tonight, cheeks a little flushed, one foot bouncing rapidly up and down against the rung of his stool; a couple splotched bruises mar his arms, one on forearm, one on his upper arm, but the easy smile on his face makes him look like these are at least not bothering him much. He has a cellphone in one hand, thumb swiping quickly across its screen, and his dark eyes flit at regular intervals between the phone and the diner's door. It's not uncommon for Josiah to crave some food at this time of the night, especially on a weekend, and breakfast food at home always hit the spot. So here he is, bounding through the village, high on whatever excitement he just left, and maybe-probably some gin. He has his cellphone held against the side of his face as he enters, chatting away with a big grin on his face. "Yes, Billy, I can do that. And yes, I have done that. Who wouldn't?" He laughs and spots Dusk immediately. Listen, man, I have to run. I'll talk to you later. He ends the call with a laugh and makes a beeline for the table. "Yo, how's it going?" he says to the winged mutant, extending his hand in a friendly greeting. "Heyyy." Dusk's sharp-fanged smile flashes brighter and broader as Josiah approaches; he halfway-rises to meet the handshake with a firm grip of his own. "How's /life/? Writing treating you well?" He settles back down into his seat, fingers dropping to drum restlessly against his menu. "Apologies for the hour, sometimes you just. Desperately need eggs and it's late o'clock." Josiah chuckles and slides into his seat, looking across from him to the younger man with a shrug. "No problem. I'm a night owl as it is. And I happen to be a fan of this place, so good on you. I couldn't say no." He tosses a wink to Dusk and doesn't seem to give his menu the time of day. As for writing, he makes a show of shuddering and says, "Yeesh, too early to tell. I think it's well, though. But how have you been? Did you want to discuss something?" He rests his hands on the table, remembering just how the two met and that this may be a meeting about some discarded arcade story. Dusk's large bat-wings shift and flex behind him, and he rubs a little sheepishly at the back of his neck. "I know it's kind of a stereotype but I'm /pretty/ nocturnal, myself. I swear it's nothing to do with the bat thing, I just code better once the world starts shutting down." He flips his menu open, but he only gives it a very cursory glance before closing it again, evidently already familiar with its offerings. "/Is/ kind of hard to say no to this place --" His eyes lift back to Josiah, fingers returning to rapid-quick drumming against his menu. "-- Aw, crap," though here he actually sounds amused more than disappointed, "was I supposed to come up with some kind of cover-story excuse? It was a Friday night. I had a lot of extra energy. Company seemed like the perfect addition to great food. I mean, I /could/ regale you with arcade anecdotes but /talking/ about playing video games -- I hadn't planned to go /quite/ that all-out-nerd just /yet/." Josiah lifts the back of a hand to his forehead, making as if to brush away from stress-sweat. "Phew! Well, that story's scrapped, anyway. I had to move on. So, I'm glad I don't have to disappoint you, unless it's to say that I'm not really a gamer. Or a coder." He grimaces in jest and laughs. "Thanks for the invite, though. I'm glad you called." Again, Josiah lifts his hand, but this time it's to get the attention of a waitress, standing at attention near the kitchen. She hurries over and he puts in an order for eggs benedict and orange juice. Turning to Dusk, he asks, "Sorry, are you ready?" "When it comes to food? I was /born/ ready -- Hi," Dusk greets the waitress, familiar-warm as he turns his menu back over to her, "can I get two eggs over-easy, large coffee with soy milk, a side of hash, a side of sausage? Thank you. -- I pretty much," he's adding this back to Josiah, reaching over to the spare chair to dig a thermos out of the folds of his coat, "finish Fridays fucking /ravenous/, I have kind of a --" His thumb pops the lid of his thermos, his other hand moving to the opposite arm to run fingers lightly against the bruising there. "-- intense workout. Thing. And by the time I get out I could pretty much eat --" Here his eyes sweep the room, lingering on the other /patrons/ there rather than the food they are eating. He turns his eyes back to Josiah with a quick smile. "Well. A lot. And that's totally okay I /live/ with a bunch of gamer nerds I could stand a little /less/ geek in my life. So what are you, then?" His brows raise questioningly as he lifts his thermos to take a sip. "Outside of a writer?" Josiah settles back into his chair, letting the waitress clear the table of the menus and hurry off to put the order in. His gaze plays across the bruising on Dusk's arm, brow rising in curiosity. "I guess I'm a different kind of geek. I like books, music, art, those sorts of things. Languages, too. I used to paint, but have pretty much given that up. Lately, though, I've been focusing on work more than usual." He points to the bruising now, adding, "So what sort of intense workout made those? If you're trying to be cryptic, you win." "Guess there are all kinds of geek. Books and music are geekery I can get behind. I'm --" Dusk's hand seesaws uncertainly back and forth in the air. "/eh/ when it comes to picking up languages, I had kind of a slow start with that and it stuck with me forever." He gulps another swig from his thermos, tongue swiping against his top row of teeth as he sets it back down. "Nah." A hint of blush dusts his cheeks. "Not trying for cryptic, just trying not to scare you off before the food's even here. It's kind of this -- sparring --" One corner of his mouth twitches briefly upwards. "OK, /fighting/. Club. Gets kind of intense." Both brows go up this time. It's certainly not what he was expecting, but the look on his face shows that it kind of makes sense to him. "Seriously? You're part of a fight club. Doesn't that mean you just broke a cardinal rule or something?" He grins and pauses as the waitress returns with drinks. He thanks her and gulps down a good deal of his orange juice. "Please, go on. Tell me more. I don't think I've ever met someone in that sort of club. I bet it's a rush." Dusk's chin tips up in a nod of thanks to the waitress, one wing unfolding to brush lightly against her arm in passing; evidently familiar enough with him that this is taken as friendly rather than creepy, she answers it with an absent squeeze of long wing-bone before heading back off to tend her other tables. "Oh, yeah, no, it's um. It's not that kind of fight club I talk about it all the damn time," he admits with a quiet laugh. "Just usually not till at least a second date. People tend to look at the --" He flicks a finger back towards his talon-tipped wings, "-- and the fangs and just /assume/ clearly I'm violent. Usually I like to throw them off a bit, right, not /prove/ I'm violent till a little later." His fanged smile is quick and crooked. "But it's contained violence only, I swear. We keep medics /right/ on hand." "Is this a first date, then?" Josiah asks with a grin. Not letting that get to be the focus of discussion, though, he dives right back in to talk about the club. "So, medics are good to have, sure. What's the justification for it, then? Just a way to blow off steam? Are you looking to transcend something, maybe? I'm not judging here, I'm just really into the idea I guess." He casually drapes one arm over the back of his chair as he takes Dusk in, looking calm despite the subject at hand. "Dunno. I'll tell you," Dusk answers lightly, "if I make it to a second." His wings fold in closer against his back, his smile fading into a more pensive look. He picks up his thermos again, fingers pressing hard against its sides as he takes a swallow. "Oh, man, New York's given us /so/ much justification, these days." This is -- a little bit wry, a faint thinning to his lips for a moment. "But I guess the cops started it. You remember last spring, that horrible bullshit with the fight ring /they/ were running? Kidnapping mutants to force them into --" His wings give a small rippling shudder. "Anyway, after that got busted some of the people they'd locked up kind of felt like it'd be good to make sure they're better-equipped to /resist/ the next time someone tries kidnapping them. So I guess that's how it /started/. But it's a good place for, uh." The tip of his tongue flicks against one fang. "Freaks. Get together. Stay sharp. Let loose a bit in safe company without worrying about anyone deciding it's /obviously/ because mutants are terrible thugs." Josiah nods appropriately as Dusk talks, letting the new information sink in, even as he winces at the thought of the broken-up fight ring of recent days past. While he listens, he plays with his glass of juice, letting the liquid inside move within its container as he swirls it around. "Freaks, right. So this is obviously a mutant-only deal." He consider this for a moment and shrugs. "Think I can come see what it's about sometime? As just another freak?" "Yeah, it's kind of -- well, like I said, it /grew/ out of a bunch of humans sticking people in cages to fight to death for entertainment so --" Dusk's teeth press down against his lip. "I don't think it's exactly an /anti/-human vibe so much as just a /retreat/." He lifts a wing in a small shrug, drawing his coffee close to add in a packet of sugar and stir at it. His mouth is already opening -- apologetically, perhaps ready to issue a polite denial at this request, but Josiah's last word makes his mouth shut again with a quiet click of teeth. His brows raise curiously. "You? For real?" Josiah nods again, looking as if he understands the motives of the people at the club, at least on a surface level. "Yep, for real." He purses his lips and lets out a nervous laugh. "It still feel funny telling people, actually. Up until recently only my family knew, but I guess I should get used to it. Just about everyone will know sooner or later." He raps his knuckles on the table and glances up as the food arrives. "Ah, the main event." "Just about everyone?" Dusk's brows raise still higher, but fall back into place as their food arrives. He drops his napkin half-folded into his lap, picking up his fork to scoop all his hash out onto his eggs and mash the whole lot together. He continues the line of conversation only after the waitress has departed again. "Why, did you, ah, register? But I mean even if you did it's not like they tell everyone -- right?" He doesn't actually sound /quite/ certain about this himself. "Well, I guess I mostly mean everyone in my life right now," Josiah starts, using his utensils to cut into the poached egg in his meal and run yolk all over the places. "I did register. I kind of had to, I guess. It's all work-related and, well, I'm still not sure what consequences are going come of it all, so," He shrugs and works some of meal onto his fork, stuffing his mouth and chewing it down. "We'll see, I guess, but I'm somewhat in the public eye. Are you registering?" "Mmm, that's right." Dusk's own yolks are running thick and golden to mix in with his hash; he takes a large bite once it is all well and truly mingled, and then another. He washes it down with a sip of coffee, eyes flicking over Josiah thoughtfully. "That's right. New Yorker and all. /They/ wouldn't out you all over the fucking place though would they?" He bares his teeth in a sharp grin. "Me? Nah. Anyone asks, I'll tell them to be more sensitive, I just have polydactyly." Behind him, his wings stretch very slightly outwards and then pull back in. "I mean, technically speaking those /are/ fingers." Josiah laughs and spears another chuck of the eggs benedict, gently settling this bit in his mouth to be enjoyed. He swallows and says, "Aw, maybe we can get a fundraiser going. I don't think people are aware enough." He winks and moves on to his job. "Nobody at my job is going to out me; I'm doing that myself. I've taken up writing about mutant issues and my byline will definitely let readers know that I am, indeed, a bonafide mutant." "Holy shit." Dusk drops his hand back downward with a clatter of fork against plate. "I mean holy shit. Seriously? They're really going to let you /do/ that?" Josiah nods, "Mmhm, yep. I mean, I have to do it in a way that keeps their voice, of course, and I'm not going to change my own style. I'm just going to let people know that a mutant is writing these things and hope that it might give them a different perspective." He sighs and wiggles his shoulders, "But that's enough about work. Let's talk about these eggs!"