ArchivedLogs:Breakfast Debrief

Breakfast Debrief
Dramatis Personae Melinda, Tag
In Absentia	2013-01-25 Roommates who hardly ever see each other catch up over noms.
Location <NYC> Melinda and Tag's Apartment - Lower East Side
Running across the rooftop, Tag is a chaos of fiery hues distilled into human form. He had colored his hair in a spectrum from light yellow to scarlet, and, hatless now, leaves it to the whim of the icy wind. His jacket is bright yellow, abstract flame designs along the cuffs and hem disguising age and signs of use. The same flames decorate faded blue jeans and white sneakers two sizes too big to accommodate wool socks. He leaps across a narrow gap to his building and skids down the fire escape to knock on the living room window. His breath steams the outside of the glass in quick puffs. He tries to make colors in the fog, but it doesn't come out quite right--looking more like an oilslick on water than a rainbow. Melinda just happens to be in the kitchen making a cup of coffee when Tag knocks. She looks up with a curious expression, which changes to concern as she sets the mug down and quickly crosses the room to enter the living room and open the window. Her short sleeved pajama shirt offers little protection to the icy wind that accompanies this action, but at least the pants are flannel. She scowls as she ushers him in, eyeing over his shoulder for chasers. "Are you okay? What's going on?" "Mel! I got a job!" Tag cries, diving--or maybe falling--in through the window and rolling to his feet. It might "I'm gonna be a bike courier!" He literally bounces around the living room. "I get to run around town like I do anyway and get /paid/ for it! Wow, it's hot!" Stripping off his jacket, he straightens the much-torn long-sleeve cyan shirt, which is layered over a white undershirt. Registering Mel's keen worry, he hastens to add, "I took the 'high road' because I saw some of the guys I used to live with, you know, with Jason. They didn't beat me up or anything! I just figured it's better if they don't know where I live and all." Brightening again. "But I got a /job!/" Melinda closes the window behind Tag and promptly begins to rub at her arms to keep them warm. "Oh, hey, Tag, that's great," she replies, mildly disgruntled, but slowly warming to awakeness. "That's really great. I'm happy for you!" She turns and starts stumbling back to the kitchen, the call of caffeine too strong to linger. "I'm sorry to hear about your ex, but I'm glad you're safe. And hey, you get to stay! Seems like stuff's coming together." She yawns and leans against the kitchen counter for a moment with her face over her hot beverage, inhaling the steam. "I was about to make breakfast. You want anything?" "Ooh, breakfast!" Tag follows Mel as far as the dining table and straddles one of the chairs backward, resting his chin on folded arms. "I'm starved--anything would be great, actually. For once, though, I'm awake! I got up first thing to go and ask my new 'boss' if I made the cut. She's not very...bosslike? Pretty much all she does is talk to the clients/ and tell us where to go." He yawns. "Well, mostly awake. Don't worry about those guys. I bet they barely even remember me." Tag does not sound altogether certain on this last point, but he moves on quickly. "Need any help chopping stuff? Oh, and how'd it go last night? Sorry I missed it!" The look that crosses Mel's face at the mention of last night is dark. She scrubs her hand across her face to erase it and takes a long swig of coffee to banish it further. It still hangs around like a bad smell though. "I don't know. What did I tell you was going to happen? I don't remember at this point." She turns to the fridge and starts pulling out eggs and bacon and bread for toasting. She remembers the 'chopping' offer and finds a red bell pepper, an onion and a few cloves of garlic to place closer to Tag's location. He is going to have to get up to reach them. "There, chop those. Well, chop the pepper, dice the onion and mince the garlic, but you know what I mean." Tag cocks his head slightly, like a confused dog, but rises to take the vegetables. "You said this girl you met was gonna play guitar, and maybe sing or something?" He retrieves one of the smaller cutting boards and starts out with the onion. "So I take it things didn't turn out so great?" he asks, blinking tears out of his eyes as he turns the big onion into smaller onions. "Oh gosh, yes," Melinda sounds exasperated, but the emotion is muted by her tiredness. "The girl, Shelby, called on Monday or Tuesday to cancel, but didn't say why. Last night, two of her fans showed up and I found out that she couldn't play because of an injury -- but on top of having to get stitches and you have to understand that this girl finds trouble - lethal trouble - like you and I have a bad day -- she starts going on about the guy that brought her flowers has a crush on her. He's older and claims to enjoy sexing up teenagers and getting them pregnant." She rubs at her eyes for a moment as she grabs a mixing bowl and some milk, turning the eggs into a fluffy whisked omelette start, waiting on the other vegetables before starting to cook. She pops some toast in the toaster oven while she waits. "Then I think this other person was reading my mind. It was eerie, not necessarily the coincidental or 'I know you really well' kind of way either." The knife in Tag's hand stops for a moment while Mel describes her evening. "Wow. That sounds...pretty awful." He finishes with the onions and pushes them aside. "I've had stalkers before. Once I had to up and leave the city I was in just to shake him. Maybe the police could help her?" He sounds doubtful. "/I/ wouldn't want to go to the cops, and maybe she wouldn't either, if she gets into a lot of trouble." Tag cores the pepper and dumps out the loose seeds, then reduces it to a pile of irregularly shaped chunks. "See, all still red," he boasts, presenting the vegetables to Mel. "Apparently there's a lot of people out there who can read minds. I mean.../actually/ read minds." He roots through drawers for the garlic press. "I guess the guys with the aluminum foil hats aren't /completely/ nuts, huh?" "It's harder to deal with when you're homeless," Melinda admits, frowning still. She finds a skillet and starts warming up and cooking the onions to start. Only then does she remember to grab a skillet for the bacon. "So yeah, she probably won't go to the cops. Plus, I think she's teasing him. I just... The guy protested too much when I confronted him" though that might have been because she smacked him with a bouquet, "and I got rather pissed at his reaction. Defending oneself is fine, crying out about how that girl is lying ... Maybe I read too much about feminism on the web and rape apologists." She stirs the onions quietly before draping strips of bacon into the second skillet. "At least no one got shot." There's a pause for thought and then, "Oh. Yeah. He was the one who got shot last time." Tag raises one flame-orange eyebrow, then the other. "It sucks that he got shot, but that's not really an excuse for getting creepy. Although sometimes hospitals give you pain meds that make you act funny. If you get your pain meds...somewhere else, they can make you act even funnier." He skins the garlic cloves and send them through the garlic press onto a soup spoon, which he passes to Mel. "I've been with some people who really are like that, but, you know, don't want to actually chase jailbait. I'm pretty good at playing a teenager...'cuz I still kind of look at act like one, I guess?" He shrugs. "Anyway, maybe that guy's like that--kinky, and afraid of getting branded a pedo? I try to assume the best about people, but I wasn't there. If he's actually rapey, and the girl can't go to the police...that's not so good." He frowns, rinsing out the garlic press. "Maybe he'll back off because he knows you're looking out for the girl, huh?" "Yeah. We'll see. Hive'll probably have a say too." Mel accepts the spoon carefully and sets it down on the counter top as she finishes with the onions and flips the bacon. "If you want cheese, grab some for me, will ya?" She puts the garlic in and lets it heat through before moving everything to a small cereal bowl. Then, after reoiling the pan, she puts in half the egg mixture and starts actually making the omelette. "I don't know. Some assholes are too sarcastic about these matters and it's really hard to tell who is joking who is being a real creep. I mean, well, I didn't think he was creepsome until Shelby started razzing at him about his crush." She sighs and reaches for her coffee. Oh, sweet dark brew from beyond! Though he visibly perks up at the mention of Hive's name, Tag only nods his agreement as he retrieves a wedge of Colby from the refrigerator. "I know Hive," he says, grating the cheese onto a plate. "He was the one who put me up last Monday when I didn't come home. He's nice..." This last comment he makes almost meditatively as he passes the plate of shredded cheese. "Guess I'm lucky it was him and not someone less scrupulous. I should really watch how much I drink. Or /what/ I drink." "Yeah, about that," Melinda adds some veggies, the cooked onions and garlic and the fresh pepper bits, then folds over half of the omelette, letting it cook a little more. "Have you been not coming home a lot?" There's concern in her tone, but she keeps her focus on the food to keep the heat off of her roommate. "I kinda fell asleep at the arcade," Tag admits, ducking his head a little, "I didn't think I drank that much at the club before that. Maybe someone spiked my drink?" He sits down sideways in the chair and props himself against the back. "Then I stayed up all night gaming, but that was with Hive and Jax. I was out a couple of nights doing art, too." He pauses, scrunches up his face. "That's about it. I've been turning in early this week 'cuz it's so /cold/. Don't worry, though! I'm pretty careful...okay, well, not always. Can't really claim that when I'm going to be courier-ing. But I /am/ fast and good at running away!" Melinda finishes the omelette by flipping it and toasting the other side while sprinkling the top with cheese. She slides it onto a plate and adds some bacon, which was pulled from the heat to add new bacon to the pan. She then turns and gives it, plus a fork, to Tag. "Well, I worry." There's something mothery in the way she puts down the plate with her other hand, spatula laden, rests on her hip. "I'm not saying don't have fun or don't run around the city or be scared and hide all the time, but you ... just know I worry. And don't drink too much." She sighs and turns back to the stove, starting to make her omelette now, taking a swig of coffee as well. "Thanks, Mel," Tag says, and it is not necessarily clear whether he meant it in regard to the food or her concern. He twists around to sit properly in the chair and picks up the battered steel chopsticks that were his sole contribution to the apartment's silverware drawer. "Drinking 'too much' for me is like three shots, though," he complains. "Some cocktails have almost that much right off the bat, especially if the bartender is nice." He skillfully pinches off a bite-sized corner of the omelette with his chopsticks and pops it into his mouth. "Everyone's scared sometimes, right? It's a scary world. But it's wonderful, too--even the scary parts." Mel continues working on her food, sipping her coffee from time to time and taking the bacon off the heat. "Okay, well. I don't know. Have a better tolerance." She shrugs and flips her omelette. It breaks all over the place. Oh poo. She continues to cook it to make sure everything inside is done. "I know it's a scary place. I have had a rough couple of weeks." She leans against the counter and looks over at Tag. "Sorry. Just know I'm... here for you if you need something -- not that you don't have friends to take care of you. Again. Being a busy body. Sorry." "I don't mind, really," Tag insists, looking at her over his shoulder. "I'm kind of awful at looking after myself sometimes, I know that. I get by, but it's nice to have people around who care." He shovels more food into his mouth and doodles flowers on the remaining, pristine half of the omelette. "You know, I'm here for you, too, right?" he asks suddenly. "I'm not very...paternal, or whatever, but if there's ever anything I can do, you should tell me. I have some wiles of my own." A pause. "Granted, most of them involve drawing on stuff, but you know..." Melinda looks over her shoulder and smiles at him. She then looks down at what she's cooking and piles it onto the plate with her bacon. "Thanks. Don't count yourself out. Sometimes just being around is good, but we can talk about painting my bedroom." When she gets closer to the table, she picks up the fork she got out for Tag earlier and sits down next to him, eyeing his food. "Is what you do ... edible? Because, you know, you could get a good job painting cakes at a bakery too, if the bike runner thing gets too cold." She picks up her fork and dissects her mess, starting to eat before reaching out and grabbing some hot sauce, conveniently located on the table, to douse her omelette cum scramble. "If it isn't edible, I'm in serious trouble!" Tag flashes her a grin and devours a chunk of egg adorned with a blue-and-purple butterfly. "I have trouble doing fine detail on some surfaces, but I've put words and pictures on cakes before--not like professionally, just for friends." He tilts his head thoughtfully. "Maybe if I could find a bakery that wasn't freaked out by...what I do? It seems kind of weird to just walk into a job interview and say, 'Hey, look, I can paint things with my brain!' Maybe it won't be so weird someday. So, what do you want on your walls, huh? I like murals--lots of room to work." "I'd love a night time mural of stars or fireworks, but maybe also a sunset glow. I... don't know. It's neat to think about when I don't have to worry about my skill when attempting to make something." Melinda considers and then shrugs at Tag. "You don't really need a whole bakery. You just need a single baker and a rented commercial kitchen to make things you can sell." She takes a long sip from her coffee before tucking into her food. "Then make friends with local coffee houses and places where baked goods would sell. Farmers Markets are nice too." Tag mulls this over, rubbing the nearly-invisible red stubble on his chin. "I can definitely do a night sky, with sunset, fireworks, and whatever you'd like. Maybe sometime we can sit down and I can just work with your guidance? That's always kinda cool. It's like jamming, but with visual art." He chews his food for a few moments in silence. "That would be kinda cool. It would be even cooler if I could learn how to bake, too! It's like magic to me..." "You got time now, or do you need to run off and courier some more?" Melinda raises an eyebrow as she continues to eat, picking up a strip of bacon to nibble on. "And as far as baking go... I can show you some stuff, but I'm not an expert at it." "I have time," Tag replies, sitting up straighter. "I'm not actually starting until...er...whenever I go to retrieve my old bike." He snickers, then hastens to add, "Not from Jason or those guys! I'm not /that/ crazy. My bike got handed down to my little sister, and she's not using it anymore, so she agreed to let me have it back." Pushing the remnants of his omelette around, he smiles fondly. "She's studying to be a lawyer. Says she wants to specialize in mutant rights! We'll see." He finishes the last of his omelette and picks up his plate, bringing it to the sink along with the pans and utensils used for prep. "So, since we actually /both/ have the day off, we can see about your walls after breakfast. Then we can bake something!" "Is she championing mutant rights for you?" Melinda is curious but is hurrying through her food a bit now. She finishes her coffee and gets up to get some juice from the fridge. "That sounds like a plan - but we may need to get some food from the grocery too, depending on what we want to bake." "She didn't /say/ she was doing it for me," Tag says, "but it's a fair guess! I left home pretty dramatically--turned the whole dining room white. That must have been a bitch to repaint." He scrubs the pan vigorously and rinses it out. "Haven't talked to the parents since. I'm not picky about baking. Cookies are an easy place to start, right? Last time I tried they turned out pretty bad, so maybe you can tell me what I'm doing wrong." Melinda finishes her food and downs her juice a little faster then. "Okay then. Let's get some of the bedroom done first and then we'll go to the store - at least give you a chance to warm up after your forays this morning." She starts to wash up. "Thanks again, for the offer. A colorful room will be so nice."