ArchivedLogs:Checking in and Chatting

Checking in and Chatting
Dramatis Personae Hanna, Melinda
In Absentia	2013-07-01 Lunch and conversation
Location <NYC> Hanna's Appartment - Village Lofts
A modestly sized two bedroom apartment, well furnished in a decidedly eclectic style, as though a great deal of time had been taken to pick just the right pieces from thrift and antique shops. The room is neat, without too much clutter, aside from the occasional photo or unusual lamp, but it feels warm and lived in - the entire place seems to have an aura of relaxation and general good cheer, almost tangibly so. The colors of the furnishings don't match, per se, but the mix of rich jewel tones, wood, leather, and pops of brilliant day-glo colors seem to compliment each other well enough. On the far side of the room, a curtainless window looks out on the city below, although the massive collection of plants lining the sill and hanging from the curtain rod obscure the view slightly, though still allowing ample amounts of natural light to fill the room. The open kitchenette is quite modern, with gleaming chrome appliances and a dyed butcherblock counter top in muted rainbow shades. Rippling blue glass panels front the cabinets, giving a slightly distorted view of the contents within, and adding to the odd charm of the room. After getting buzzed in, Melinda heads up familiar stairs to an unfamilar apartment, carrying a reusable grocery bag over one shoulder. She is definitely not dressed for work, sporting a soft gray cotton skirt and a pair of layered tank tops, a light sheen of perspiration covering her skin, more from the humidity outside than exertion. She raises her hand to knock at Hanna's place, delivering three quick expected raps as her free hand dives into her pocket to fetch her cellphone to check the time as well as to check for messages. Hanna has been pacing, or at the very least trying to pace, after she buzzed Melinda into the building, each step bringing with it a bit of a grimace as she tries to stretch the no where near healed skin of her left leg. The lower portion of her left arm is encased in white medical gauze, though smaller bandages dot the rest of her arm at random intervals. Her right arm is held relatively immobile by a standard blue fabric sling, a wrapping of ace bandages keeping a neon blue ice pack held to her shoulder. In what is likely the most dressed down anyone has seen her since her arrival in New York, Hanna is wearing a pair of plain grey sweatpants and a loose red t-shirt, declaring her to be property of the Island of Hawaii. Her long hair is pulled back into a simple braid that falls beyond her hips. The knock on the door, though expected, still makes her jump slightly, as she hobbles towards the door, checking the peep hole to be certain that it is Mel on the other side. Only after this double check do the bolts and chains slide out of the way, and Hanna opens the door with a weary smile. “Hey Mel,” Hanna says with a grin, stepping out of the way with a sweeping gesture, though she looks out into the hallway to make sure no one followed Melinda upstairs. “Come on in. Thanks for stopping by,” she says tiredly, heading towards the kitchenette, “Can I get you anything to drink? We’ve got soda, juice, water. I can make tea if you’d like.” The tone of her voice implies that she can’t stand to sit still for too long, almost desperate for something to do. "Maybe we can make some iced tea," Melinda replies as she slips into the open apartment. She glances over at Hanna with eyebrows raised in concern, forehead wrinkled as well. "Oh, Hanna, dear, how are you doing? Have you seen a doctor? Is there anything you need?" She draws in a deep breath and looks around before taking her bag to the kitchen and setting it on a free space on the counter. "I'm not going to tell you to relax and take a load off, but you kind of look like you could use it." She starts pulling out some boxes from inside her bag, each one stamped with Montague's logo on the outside. "I have the catalog from the store and my discount code if you want to look for replacement bits for your shop." As soon as Melinda asks about the ice tea, Hanna is already on it, gingerly pulling the kettle from the cabinet and setting it in the sink, flicking it open and starting to fill it with water, then somehow shifting it onto the stove top to start boiling, “It’ll take a few minutes to cool it down. Jayna doesn't really let me keep the instant iced tea around much. But we have a kickass selection of loose leaf teas, if you have a preference.” She points a neat little cabinet on the countertop, “Tea is in there, if you wanted to take a look at what we've got available.” Hanna sighs at the suggestion that she needs to relax, shaking her head, “I... I know I should. Really. But,” she glances out the plant covered window, wrinkling her nose, “I should be at my bakery. Cleaning up, or doing something. I can’t just sit still and do nothing.” Even though she protests, Hanna does take a moment and lean against the counter with her uninjured side, sighing, “Police won’t do anything about it. Took the report. Pretty sure they immediately tossed it in the trash once they were out of my line of sight.” She flexes her hand and looks curiously at the bandages, then looks at the boxes from Montagues, smiling slightly, “Heh. Thanks. And do they sell just the replacement glass? I’m hoping to keep the case, and just get the glass replaced. They were vintage pieces, and they’ve just got a charm to them. Which wouldn’t be ruined by safety glass, though. The original glass shattered way too easily. And stabbily.” "Oh, of course. Lots of people use them for their custom countertop displays, so the glass is priced by size. I don't remember, was it all standard flat panels, or did they have some curve to the pane of the glass?" Mel finishes pulling out lunch and leaves the restaurant supply catalog on the counter before turning away to stare at the tea. Fingers dance across the packaging before she finds one she wishes to sniff and use. "You know, if you wanted to take someone to court, I do know a P.I. or two that could help you get names and serve subpoenas." She turns back toward Hanna. "Or if you just want the place watched. I wish that people would recognize mutant hate crimes and put a stop to bullshit like this. It's ridiculous." “Good to know,” Hanna says, limping over to flip through the catalog, taking note of some of the newer styles of cases, before finding the section for custom ordering glass, “They had a curve near the top near where it met the chrome backing. Not too uncommon of a display case, at the very least. Glass should be relatively easy to get put in.” She wrinkles her nose at the prices, “Should probably wait for the insurance claim to go through, but at this point, meh, I’ll just reimburse myself once it goes through.” Hanna finds a pitcher, the lid designed to hold the loose leaf tea in order to make iced tea easier, and heaps a few scoops of raw sugar into the bottom of it before filling the strainer basket with the selected tea, and pouring the water over it, admittedly in relatively slow motion and one handedly. “As much as I would love to press charges, or take them to court, I’d lose. I tackled the brute with the baseball bat first before he could smash the cases. Not that it did much, but it was technically the first contact. Didn’t leave a mark on him, nor did it exactly deserve getting clubbed into my cases, but, yeah.” She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, setting the pitcher into the fridge to cool as it brews, “If you know a discrete security company who would be willing to keep an eye out. I’ve, in the past, gotten offers of protection from Luke Cage, and a decidedly spiky, ill tempered girl who apparently lives in the sewers.” She smirks, shifting over to poke at the boxes from Montague’s, before pulling plates down from one of the cabinets and putting them on the counter. “Who the hell needs guards for cupcakes? I always thought it wouldn’t happen to me. I mean, hate crimes. Against a freaking bakery? Really? Gods, I was naive to think that,” she muses, leaning against the counter. Melinda snorts when Hanna brings up Luke Cage, but is far more composed for the rest of her explanation. "I highly doubt it's about the product sold at your establishment, hun, and more about people striking out at anything and everything that attracts their attention." She let's out a deep sigh and moves closer to the pitcher, inhaling the aroma of brewing tea. "You're the ones I care about, you and Jayna. The shop is your source of income, so I'd hate to see anything happen to that, and the cupcakes? Well, I enjoy eating them, but the lifespan of a pastry good is not really worth hiring muscle." She gives the baker a small smile before inhaling once more and stepping back. "You can have Murphy's card if you want it. He's pretty intense though, so take his tenacity if you want it, but if you find him too gruff at your first meeting, then you shouldn't hire him. Jim's my other contact, but I don't know if he's back in town yet." "Both of them will be far more discrete than Luke Cage. He's sort of a glowing banner that screams, 'Hey! I hired a mutant to protect me!' Which may or may not escalate things." Inside the boxes are three sandwiches, one veggie, one club, and one egg salad, with blueberry and cranberry orange scones in the other boses. Mel flips through the catalogue until she finds the page with the curved countertop glass. "That look about right?" Hanna chuckles at the reaction to Cage, and offers a slight shrug, “He was a sweetheart. And I’m pretty sure I could pay him in cupcakes to take home to his mom. But I certainly see the point that he’s a little bit of a poster boy for out there mutants.” She snags the egg salad sandwich, pulling it over to her and transferring it deftly to the plate she had pulled out earlier. “I’ll take the cards, sure, see if I could possibly get any information on what is going on in the community. I really don’t think those three jerks spoke for everyone - I’m on pretty decent terms with my neighboring shops. But, well, I’ll have to reevaluate some things if our shop really isn’t welcome there.” Hanna frowns at this possibility, her face crinkling and making her look closer to her actual age than normal, “I don’t want to give up so easily.” She takes a deep breath, and nibbles at her sandwich delicately, “And I don’t care about the cupcakes. If someone came in and demanded at gunpoint that I empty the cases for them, and stole every cupcakes, I wouldn’t hesitate. I worry about my patrons, my friends. My staff. I worry about people getting hurt in my shop, when I try to make it inviting. I worry that I’m making them targets, and not doing a damn thing to keep them safe.” She clenches the hand of her broken arm into a fist in frustration, wincing at the motion, taking a deep breath, “And yeah. I’ll need to get the exact measurements, but that glass should work just right for it.” "I figured that you didn't care about the cupcakes," Mel smiles reassuringly. "Oh, is Jayna vegetarian? The other tree mutant I know is not, but I figured I should ask before I picked a sandwich." She begins to gather up the long strands of her hair and twist them up into a bun she secure on itself at the base of her neck. "I am not fully sure that there is much of a way to avoid that right now. My shop has the policy of it being open to everyone, but at the same time, we still get asshole customers and rabble rousers trying to enforce their ideas on others. Got knocked in the skull last week trying to keep shit from escalating." She begins rooting around in her purse before pulling out cards for both Murphy Law and James Morgan, slipping them onto the counter. "And I can help you with a doctor referral, too. Dr. Iolaus Saavedro. He is the one starting the clinic for mutants in the city, but he's a good guy. I think he's currently working with the Common Ground Clinic, which seems to also be a good place for mutants to go. I don't actually know or care if you are one, I just like supporting places who do treat mutants in hopes it helps keep them open." “Not strictly, no. She just doesn’t really eat meat too much - apparently the taste is off,” Hanna shrugs, “So the veggie sandwich would be her preference.” There’s a concerned glance to the closed door across the way, “She’s asleep right now. Still recovering from the attack, although I made the guy drop her before he did any permanent damage.” She frowns slightly, moving to sit gingerly on one of the swiveling chairs along the countertop, before pulling her plate over to sit in front of her. “I plan to reopen. We’ve had relative quiet during business hours. I just, well, hadn’t locked the door yet - sometimes friends stop by after hours to chat, so,” she shrugs and grimaces, “Foolish and naive of me. But I’d been able to deal with the minor scuffles previously.” There’s a wince at the mention of getting knocked in the head, “Honestly, this is the first time I’ve gotten injured. I got good at breaking up fights from being a bartender off an on for a year while I traveled around. Though people don’t usually bring baseball bats to a bar fight.” She laughs slightly at that, and shakes her head. “I’ve met Dr. Saavedro once before - he stopped in to the bakery a week or two ago. Nice man - I had been meaning to donate to his cause, honestly. Completely forgot that he mentioned working at a clinic currently,” Hanna says, rubbing her head with her bandaged hand, “I should get Jayna down to the clinic to get checked out, just to make sure she didn’t get hurt worse than we realize. They... they would hardly even let her into the hospital to see me, let alone get checked out.” Hanna grimaces at her sandwich, taking a small bit and chewing thoughtfully. “I am a mutant. I’m just able to pass,” she says quietly, looking up at Melinda, her once brown eyes now a somewhat unnatural dark blue green, “Lately, I’ve worn contacts to cover it up. That’s the only outward sign I have of it.” She blinks a few times, but the color stays that same teal green blue, “Anyway. The tea should be brewed, if you wanted to pull it out of the fridge. It’ll need some ice, though, otherwise it’s just that awkward tepid temperature.” "Yeah, and that would be why I don't go to doctors that shun mutants. Know too many, it seems." Melinda shakes her head and goes into the fridge for Hanna, fetching the tea, then peeking into the freezer for ice. "So, I don't suppose any of this has brought back to mind the speak easy?" There's a grin and a small wink that accompanies the question. She pauses, holding the ice. "You want me to put this in individual glasses or in the pitcher itself?" She leans against the counter, thinking quietly. "I don't think your friends would mind knocking at a locked door, when you reopen. Or maybe install a doorbell? Could be a quick fix that will protect your people. I can come by next Sunday, if you want a hand cleaning up and getting ready." “Didn’t have as many options as I would have liked at that point. The ambulance took me to the hospital that was closest,” Hanna says with a sour look, taking another bite of her sandwich. “And yeah - especially since things have gotten worse, yet again. I doubt putting it into the basement of Happy Cakes would be a good idea, though. Too easy a target now,” Hanna nods, shifting and reaching up to grab some cups for the iced tea from the cabinet overhead. “Can do both. It’ll cool it down a bit, and it will make sure the tea isn’t too strong,” she offers, sliding the colorful glasses towards Melinda. “Yup - doorbell was in the plans. One that will ring to the back as well, so that I can hear it in the kitchen,” she nods, “And help would be appreciated. I managed to get over to put a sign up saying we were closed temporarily, but there’s still glass, blood, and icing all over the place.” She wrinkles her nose at that, shaking her head, “If I order the glass today, it should come in relatively soon, in theory.” "Yeah. I'll also ask around at work to see if there aren't any other volunteers that already know how to clean at restaurant standards." Melinda puts a couple cubes in the individual glasses before dumping the rest of the ice from that tray in the pitcher of tea. She refills and replaces the tray in the freezer before adding tea to the glasses and putting the pitcher back in the fridge. She then brings the glasses over to where Hanna is, before fetching the club sandwich. "I'll keep my eyes open for a location that doesn't seem too dangerous, but also somewhat inconspicuous." She exhales as she sits and rubs at her eyes before unwrapping her sandwich. Then she raises her glass. "Here's to another crazy day in New York City." Hanna watches as Melinda refills the tray, and sighs, “Thank you. For everything you’ve done, and what you’re offering to help with. And I’m willing to pay people if they help out. At the very least, free donuts and coffee to those who want to help out, but I can pay.” She ruffles her hair slightly with her bandaged hand and accepts the glass of tea, “I’ll keep a lookout too. Probably want to keep it a distance away from our own stores, but close enough to not be inconvenient to us or the people who would benefit from it. Would we want it to be more bar-like, shelter like, or coffee-shop esque? Or just throw everything in a blender and see what happens?” She holds the glass and smirks, raising it in a salute to Melinda, “To another day in the craziness that is New York.” "I'm willing to say 'blender' but shelter space could get iffy, as one actually needs /space/ to make that work. It's hard to have only one or two people able to crash there, because there are always more people in need. At the same time, having someone live there could make the space seem legitimate and keep the space from ever being empty for vandalization." Melinda rattles on for a moment, then purses her lips thoughtfully. "Maybe we can look in the lower east side or Alphabet City. Somewhere between where we live rather than where we work." She takes a long drink and digs in to the sandwich, pausing when her mouth is clear enough to speak. "It's nice to have something kind of positive to think about." “It would be more of a crash space in the back room, I think. One or two cots. Just a place to catch a catnap or recover,” Hanna muses, tucking into her sandwich in earnest now, chewing and swallowing before speaking again, “Alternately a back room with medical supplies. Because even if people don’t need to sleep, they almost always seem to need to be patched up and bandaged.” She wrinkles her nose, sipping the tea, “Alphabet City could be a good place to look. Always things up for rent over there - and some of the areas are reasonably safe, if not always the most reputable. I’m not the best judge of that though - apparently too trusting.” Another bite of her sandwich and some pondering later, she bobs her head in agreement, “Yeah - positive is good. Too much negativity going around. How secretive about this are we going to be? Cloak and dagger style, with a password that changes regularly, referrals only? Or more along the lines of ‘just don’t tell people you don’t trust’ type thing, open to all?” "Oh my. I am no good with secrecy. I like the idea of a rotating password or a symbol of the week, but I can only imagine the looks on my friends' faces when I explain my hokey and devious idea." Melinda scratches behind her ear, chewing a fresh bite quietly. "Maybe we'll just get some telepaths on staff and scan interested individuals for malicious intent." She shrugs and takes a sip of tea. "But yeah, I could see a comprehensive first aid station and possible medic training for the person working there that night." She exhales and smiles at Hanna. "I hope it's a nice idea for other people as well. A gathering place where people can relax. Caffeine or booze as well? Booze might require a license. Are we applying for all the right permits, or are we making food elsewhere and bringing it in?" “I’m a bit crap at secrecy as well - so maybe it’ll be a speakeasy in name only,” Hanna muses, nibbling on her sandwich and grinning, “I doubt there are many telepaths in the city who really want to take on a job as a bouncer. Seems like it would be a thankless job.” Idly drumming her fingers on the counter top, Hanna frowns, “Honestly, the way we’re talking about it, getting permits and licenses would be hellish unless we actively lied about the purpose. Well, more along the lines of “creative interpretation of the truth” and occasionally forgetting to provide information at certain times.” She shrugs, “Could always do BYOB type thing. Bring in food and stuff, that way we are just worrying about restaurant licensing instead of beer and beverage stuff. But still allow people to have a relaxing drink?” "Perhaps if we backed it up to a concession stand type mentality, we could get away with a lot more." Melinda considers quietly. "I'd have to look up what specifically one needs in order to have a kiosk or a concession stand in New York City and we'll see if it is better or worse than a restaurant license. BYOB works too. Flasks encouraged would be hilarious." She sets down her sandwich and leans a little more against the counter top. "Certain telepaths I know wouldn't necessarily have to be the bouncer as they could inform someone else who to bounce. Would certainly ruin the telepath's ability to relax though. Hmm." She fishes a bit of tomato out of her sandwich and nibbles on it. "Well, I'm going to do some research on this and get back to you. You want to do the same and we can compare notes?" Hanna laughs lightly at the idea of the kiosk, “Oh yeah. Start up a hot dog cart that when you knock three times on Tuesday opens into an underground bar and lounge. Password optional, flasks encouraged.” This idea appears to make her giggle a bit more than it likely should, and she shakes her head, “Sorry - I think the pain meds they gave me are actually kicking in a bit. Likely not the best to make business decisions seriously right now.” Setting her sandwich down on the plate, she takes a long pull of her iced tea, closing her eyes for a long moment, “I’ll look into some possible locations, both for a kiosk type thing, and for what sort of permits we need. Maybe something like a little pizza shop, sandwiches and a tiny seating area with a counter and stools to eat in, but not enough to encourage people to stay - more meant for take out. Legitimate business out the front, with a back room and entrance that would have the gathering area.” Hanna rubs at her temples, eyes closing again, “I’ll look into how they actually did this. Back in the day. Hell, maybe we’ll even find an old building that /has/ a speakeasy built in. Or the hidden room. That would be awesome.” "Careful finding one that's too well known. Then people will just do an internet search to find out what's going on." Melinda puts her sandwich back in its box and rises. "If the pain meds are kicking in, I should let you rest." She finishes off her tea and carries her plate to the kitchen sink. Jayna's sandwich is delivered to the refrigerator. "I'll be in touch, Hanna, and I'll come check in on you, okay? Feel better, and let Jayna know I asked after her." She then gathers up her supplies into a bag and gets ready to leave. Hanna nods slowly, keeping her eyes closed, “Yeah. If nothing else, historical references are a useful thing for theming and all that. Even if we don’t go for a historical location.” She blinks at Melinda and offers a smile, although it is a tired smile, the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes looking momentarily more pronounced. “Thank you, Mel. For everything. I’ll let Jayna know you stopped by - hopefully she’ll be more up for conversation next time around,” she says with a worried glance towards Jayna’s closed bedroom door. As Melinda starts to leave, Hanna slowly stands up, refraining from wincing likely due to the pain meds, and sees her out the door of the apartment. “I’ll see you around. Going to call the glass company, so hopefully I’ll be back open soon enough,” the injured baker says, a determined smile on her lips, as she watches her friend head for home, “Be well. Stay safe.”