ArchivedLogs:Comes With Perks

Comes With Perks
Dramatis Personae Melinda, Shane, Sebastian
In Absentia	2012-12-09 also comes with tacos.
Location <NYC> East Village
Historically a center of counterculture, the East Village has a character all its own. Home to artists and musicians of many colours, this neighborhood is known for its punk vibe and artistic sensibilities. The birthplace of many protests, literary movements, it is home to a rather diverse community and vibrant nightlife. Chill but not frigid, the faint drizzle misting down foggy-dreary-grey nevertheless makes the afternoon less than /pleasant/, as the sun -- slips. Lower. Presumably it is slipping lower, at least the sky is slowly shading from light-grey to dark-grey; it is hard to /actually/ see the sun's current position beneath the layer of clouds. People hurry to and fro on their way from one dry spot to another. Moooost people, anyway. Out on the street, leaned up against the wall between a taqueria and a convenience store, a teenager is Lurking. Maybe not the lurkiest looking, in his neatly pinstriped pants and slim-cut peacoat, but his blue skin and jet-black eyes are enough to make many people give him a wide berth. The teenager accosts a man who does /not/ give him a wide berth, stopping him to ask something in a low voice, one hand gesturing back towards the storefronts nearby. The man frowns, shakes his head and hurries on. Shane repeats this process with a young couple walking by, to the same results. Melinda meanders by, somewhat oblivious to the weather or enjoying it. Her cheeks are pinkish with warmth, and her hair escaping her pony tail tie in a fashion that says she's been sweating lately. Instead of smelling of that sweat, she is permeated pervasively with the essence of coffee. She is carrying a brightly decorated box of holiday charity donations, both arms wrapped around it, banging against her thighs with each stride. Her coat is open underneath, dark blue and waterproof, but not much in the way of winter gear. Her black trousers and white button down do little retain body heat. She ventures toward Shane, maybe curious. "Hey -- hey." Turning aside from the couple hurrying away from him, Shane jogs up towards Melinda instead. Webbed hands are held at his sides, open. Nonthreatening, see! He glances back towards the buildings and ducks his head, speaking quick and low. "Hey, miss, I'm sorry to bother you. I just -- do you have a second to help me out?" Melinda pauses and raises an eyebrow, shifting her box to on hip as she looks him over. "What do you need help with?" she asks simply, gaze traveling over his appearance as she continues to fidget with the box. it is not comfortable where it is. "Do you need help?" Shane asks, frowning at the box. He glances at Melinda, and then glances up the street a little uncomfortably. "I -- want tacos," he answers, fidgeting as well, though not from any burden. "Oh. Well, not really," Melinda replies, taken a bit off guard by the offer previous to the request. "But tacos, sure. I thought you were going to ask me for beer. I guess you could hold the box while I get tacos?" her tone is distracted as she acquiesces, attention drifting toward the restaurant they are outside. "What kind did you want?" "Psh. I've already /got/ beer and smokes," Shane has a quick smile for this, bright and rather toothy, razor-sharp teeth flashing brief and white. "At home, anyway. But they won't let me /in/ much less let me order food." He has perked up at her acquiescence, reaching into a pocket to extract his wallet. "Here, I'll trade you. So you know I won't steal your box." He offers the wallet out towards Melinda. "They make the most /incredible/ fish tacos. No lettuce, please. Just fish and salsa and hot sauce." His other arm is reaching for the box, brow furrowing a little as he gauges its girth. "And I mean, if you like Mexican totally get yourself something, too. For the favour." "Um okay, sure." Melinda takes the wallet as she hands over the box. For being a clothing donation box, it seems to have some awkward and heavy items scattered through out. it probably weighs 40 pounds. "I'll see if anything is interesting, but how many did you want?" Melinda checks the wallet for cash and looks at/for an ID. Shane doesn't seem overly bothered by the box's weight as he shifts it to his hip, despite the fact that his short-slim frame doesn't seem all that heavily built /himself/. He does take a moment to adjust his hold on it, balancing it carefully, "A dozen," he says with another quick flash of teeth. The wallet holds not all that much of interest. About twenty-five dollars in cash, a credit card, a school ID. Shane Holland. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. His photograph on it is very toothsome. "They're only like a dollar each. The chorizo are also /mad/ tasty. For the record. What's all this?" He's peering at the box, shamelessly nosy. "Donations for a coat drive. Some people just have a funny idea of what goes into a 'coat' drive." Mel doesn't exactly gesture air quotes with her fingers, but her tone stresses the word in the same manner. She nods and purses her lips. "Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes." And away she goes. "Thanks!" Shane chirps, bright and cheerful. He leans back against the wall with the Box. He might rifle through it while he waits. Nosily. Or maybe he's just a fidgety waiter. The box has a couple books as well as a few random cans of beans. Aside from coats, there are also a number of tee shirts and even some underwear that, thankfully, appears to be clean. Melinda returns after the appropriate amount of time has passed laden with a few bags of hot food. She flashes a big smile. "You were right! It smells great in there. I got a bean and rice burrito and some chorizo." She offers Shane all but one bag. "Mouth-watering, isn't it? I wish they weren't so /delicious/ because man they're fucking hosebeasts. One of their waiters hit my brother once," Shane informs Melinda, although he seems almost /cheerful/ about it. Though he could just be cheerful at the appearance of Food, his dark eyes widening eagerly. Once more he shifts the box, carefully adjusting it so that he can balance it between one arm ant his hip, and he reaches for the bags Melinda offers. "My /little/ brother is basically addicted to their horchata, but we have to ration it otherwise he's bouncing off the walls. What's all this shit for?" No hands free for gesturing, he nods towards the box instead. "I work for a homeless shelter in Chelsea. We give donations out or, well, cook them up, when appropriate." Melinda digs Shane's wallet out of her pocket and offers it back to Shane when he has his hands full. "Oh, sorry. I guess this was poorly planned." "Was it a sneaky ploy to steal my wallet?" Shane levels a Stern Look on Melinda, looking at his wallet and then down at his full hands. "There's probably like five whole dollars left in there at least. What's your shelter called?" "Helping Hands Homeless Coalition," Melinda replies cheerfully. "Did you want me to stick it in one of your pockets for you? Well, if there is one that is kind of, well, not too inappropriate." She looks sheepish as she peeks around. "Or we could go somewhere to eat the food?" "We /could/," Shane agrees, leaning forward slightly to sniff at the bags. Hungrily. "There's a part just a few --" he begins, but cuts off, tiptiptipping his head back to look up at the grey sky. "I guess it's kind of gross for that. But we could sit inside, um --" He frowns at the taqueria. "Here, c'mon, it's not even two blocks." Tilting his head in indication for Melinda to follow, he starts off down the sidewalk. Not fast. Still holding the clunky box. "Sure." Melinda follows easily, stuffing the wallet back in her pocket and letting her bag holding hand fall to her side. "I did want to say that I am sorry about that restaurants being a bunch of dildoes. They hit your brother and they got away with it? I probably would have kicked them in the shins and bloodied their nose or something." Mel menaces the air in front of her. "But I'm also not good at that stuff. I might reconsider if my hands were lethal weapons." "I wanted to go back and bloody him up," Shane admits with a shrug of one shoulder. "I was /pissed/. My brother's sweet. He talked me down though." He smiles, lopsided-crook of one side of his mouth. "My hands area alright. It's the teeth you gotta watch for. But, yeah, they got away with it. Nobody much cares if you hit, uh --" He lifts the bag, gesturing towards himself with fisted knuckles. "Thanks, by the way. For the food. I had a craving." "Yeah, well, it's probably best that there wasn't more violence. I guess." Mel frowns a little, drawing in a deep breath. "I don't know. I'm not ever sure when violence is good, but I feel like it should be good sometimes." She keeps pace and give Shane a smile. "I will endeavor to always offer fish tacos to keep your teeth busy. How does that sound?" Shane laughs, his teeth flashing bright in a grin. "Sounds amazing. Shit, are you gonna be my own personal taco operative? I'd pay good money for that. If, uh, you know, I had money." He stops outside a tall brick apartment building and -- then frowns at the lock. "Um." He looks at it, and looks down to his jacket pocket. "This was badly planned. But my jacket pocket's not an awkward pocket, right?" "Well, I do have a couple other jobs, but if you want to give me a little heads up, I could maybe figure something out." Melinda eyes the pocket and inhales deeply. "Sure." She steps forward and slips her free hand awkwardly into his pocket and carefully pulls out the keys. "Which one is it?" "S'that gold thing with the square-y head. It works on both doors. Because past the first glass door are mailboxes, but then a second door before entering the lobby proper. "What're your other jobs?" Shane is devoid of eyebrows, but the blue ridge of his forehead wrinkles slightly as it raises. "Do they include delicious fish?" Melinda selescts the correct key and opens each lock, holding each door open for Shane, due to the things in his arms. "Oh, no. not really. Sometimes we make fish stew, but not that often. I only work at the homeless shelter, even though it fees like two or three jobs, and at a coffee and tea place in SoHo." She stands in the building afterwards, unsure where to go next. Village Lofts - Lobby Bright and sunny, the lobby of this apartment building is clean and unassuming. Requiring an electronic keycard for entry, the pair of elevators dings cheerfully when one arrives. A small sitting area has bright yellow couches and small coffee tables, though the nearby vending machine is perpetually running out of /something/. Tall windows let in plenty of light during the daytime, and the building maintenance keeps the common areas spotlessly clean. Shane doesn't go far. He heads over to the seating area, exhaling a quiet sigh as he sets the box carefully down on a coffee table. "Here. Couches /and/ no rain." He stretches out the arm that was holding the box, and then sheds his peacoat, dropping it onto the arm of a sofa. "'kai have my stuff?" Keys, wallet. Not that he is looking for them too intently; he is opening the bag, sniffing hungrily at the food inside. "What coffee place? Are they cool? I mean. Not their coffee. Would they chuck me out if I wanted a chai?" "Ok. sure. Definitely." Melinda pulls the wallet out of her pocket and puts it with the keys and hands them over. "I swear I wasn't going to steal all this. Gotta watch out for the teeth, remember." She smiles, but there's a tiny twinge of fear behind her eyes at the mention of those mandibles. "I wouldn't chuck you out of the shop, but I can't promise anything real as I don't own the place. I'm sorry I can't be more certain. I'd give you chai if you paid for it." "I like chai." Shane takes the wallet and keys, shoving the wallet into his back pocket and unfolding a flap of his jacket, both to drop the keys inside and to extract a cellphone. He drops down onto the couch after, absently swiping the lock open and tapping out a text message. "S'ok," he adds, and this time his smile is a little bit crooked, a little bit self-deprecating, "the teeth are for fish. People taste like shit. Would your shelter kick me out? Uh. If. I were homeless. I'm not," in case it wasn't clear from having the keys to the apartment building. "Do y'all need more coats?" he adds, suddenly, looking at the box thoughtfully. "Oh no. We'd never kick you out of the shelter. We don't advertise that we taken in all brands of human, but we do." Melinda is very adamant about this, stepping closer, eyes locked on the younger person. She pauses and purses her lips then settles into a sitting position on the bench next to Shane. "And sure. We can always use coats. There never seems to be an end to people who need to stay warm for the winter." She clears her throat. "I'm Mel, by the way." "Shane." The teenager slips his phone away, in his pants pocket this time instead of his jacket. He reaches for one of the bags, pulling out one foil-wrapped bundle to unwrap it quickly. "That's cool. I mean, that's good. I have a friend -- okay, I have a few. A lot. But some need more help than others. I should maybe send him your way next time he's --" He shrugs a shoulder. "So, coffee and helping people. S'pretty cool. Sort've uh. Lifesaving cool." He flashes a brief smile towards her. "There's lots of people who couldn't /live/ without their daily caffeine fix." "Oh, definitely." Melinda puts her bag in her lap and fishes a card out of her pocket. It's rather cheaply printed, but it does give three different types of directions to the shelter, by means of public transportation on one side, the other just has the shelter's name and phone number. "And no, you can't reach me by that number. There're volunteers who answer that line." When the card is taken, she pulls open her bag and fishes out her burrito. "Yeah, you could pretty much say I have the best set of jobs ever. I should have a super hero identity or something." "Why don't you?" Shane grins, lifting the taco up to bite into it, quick and hungry, a rather blissful expression coming over his face with the first mouthful. His sharp teeth make quick work of the meat, and he licks some hot sauce off the corner of his mouth once he has swallowed. "Your codename could be Perk. Providing people the means to survive their days. Um," his eyes slip towards the door to the stairwell, across the lobby. "Don't get startled or anything, I'm about to get cloned." Melinda has a huge mouth full of food, as apparently, this wasn't the moment for eating gracefully, and finds herself completely unable to respond to the code name suggestion. She does follow his gaze toward the stairwell and chews and swallows quickly, the largish lump bringing some tears to the corners of her eyes. "Perk?" she looks at Shane again. "Do all code names come with such obvious lewd comments? Or are all code names just... well, cheesy?" She lowers her voice and puffs her shoulders up a bit. "She could /perk/ me up any day. Hey, does working here come with /that/ Perk?" Finishing, she rolls her eyes and takes another bite. The door to the stairwell opens with a rather loud clang, pushed open with some /fervor/; also fervent are the hurried thump of steps that tumble out. The boy racing across the lobby is twin to Shane in every way, although even if his face is identical his clothes are far from; chunky pink and grey sneakers, pants rather /shiny/ in silver and neon-purple, sleeveless black top tight and studded with metal ringing its arm and neckholes. "TACOS they didn't punch you did they oh man I'm /starv --" His enthusiastic cheer trickles off when he notes the presence of a stranger, and he skids to an almost comical halt, rubber sneaker-treads squeaking against the tile. "Oh, I -- oops. Sorry. I didn't. Hi." Cheeks coloring a darker shade of blue, he ducks his head, gaze dropping downwards. "-- Tacos?" he offers a little quieter, and still hopeful. "Oh, they're all cheesy," Shane assures her with a quiet snicker. "And half of them could be innuendo. Don't choke." He has not yet finished his first taco, but he is already taking out a second. He doesn't unroll it. He just rests it in his lap. At least until the door bangs open, and then the smile that flicks across his face is immediate-bright, warm rather than fierce despite its abundance of sharpteeth. He picks up the taco, squeezing the foil tighter-wrapped and then tossing it underhand across to his twin. "'bastian, Mel. Mel, 'bastian. We're," he says, with great seriousness, "brothers. Melinda was my taco-procurer. That should be one of your superpowers, too," he adds to the woman, "though I'm not sure how to codename that cheesily /or/ dirtily." Melinda blinks rapidly at the incoming blur, then blinks in surprise. "Oh, I hope I didn't scare you. No need for that. Be as loud as you want. I don't think we can wake anyone." It's not that late in the evening anyway. She glances at Shane then at 'Bastian as she nervously wets her lips then, "I would have never been able to tell that you were brothers. I was thinking more... distant cousins? On your second uncle's side?" She wipes the corners of her mouth with a broad napkin sweep then comments in an aside, "Then you don't know many lesbians." Sebastian snatches the taco out of the air reflexively, eyes still mostly tipped downwards. He approaches at a more sedate pace, leaning over the back of the couch to wrap his arm around his brother's shoulders in a fierce squeeze of hug -- or maybe he is choking him? His arm kind of slides up from shoulders to NECK for a moment. But the moment passes. He still leans up against the couch as he unwraps his taco, frowning in some puzzlement as he listens to the conversation. And then blushing deeper. "-- Oh." "You didn't scare him, he was just really focused on tacos. Tunnelvision. For fish." Shane is chomping back into his own, now, with /relish/. "Hah! Alright, maybe I just wasn't thinking /hard/ enough. Do you know a lot of lesbians? Is that a superpower, too? Because if attracting queers is, I think my family's got it in spades. I feel like it's hard to live in New York too long /without/ knowing plenty, though. Um. Have you lived in New York long?" He has polished off one taco already and is moving on to a second. "About six years now, I think. Came when I was 18." Mel licks her lips and takes a smallish bite that she can eat around. "And I don't know. I know a fair share of lesbians, but I don't know if I can say that I've attracted them with an undefinable mystique." She chews contemplatively and glances up at Sebastian from time to time, gauging his discomfort. "There was a short while when my friends thought I was one, but then it turned out that I'm not anything." "Nothing? That's different than everything, right?" Sebastian is quieter as he speaks up, elbows propped against the sofa's back and his eating more sedate than his brother's, head dipping almost catlike to lap out shreds of fish from the spicy taco. "I mean, I know people who like everyone and don't want any labels and people who aren't into anyone and don't want any, too. What'd you come for?" He is relaxing slowly as Melinda speaks, perhaps comfortable with the conversation or perhaps just comfortable with his taco. "Everyone's something," Shane says cheerfully. "Those things just don't always have names. Six years is a long time. We haven't been in the city all /that/ long." "I came here for Broadway!" Melinda cannot help but to announce this with a dramatic voice and perhaps a little more resonance than necessary. She smiles sheepishly and ducks her head to take a bite. She chews as she listens to Shane and nods. "I like people some times, I guess, but not really enough to say I'm into them. I might be into someone someday, so it's hard to say I'm not into anyone ever, but yeah. I guess I'm something. I don't know what that is. Maybe I'm musical-sexual. I can't develop an interest without a background orchestra and a solo." "You act?" Sebastian's eyes widen with interest as he finishes his taco. "What kinda things do you do?" Her description of her sexuality earns a bright laugh from the teenager. "Iiii can relate, there. Maybe not a background orchestra but the right song can definitely push --" His cheeks darken slightly again, and he shrugs quickly. "It can make you feel things." "She's a barista," Shane informs his brother. "That and waitressing are like the universal tiding-over. Before Broadway." There might be a little bit of a crooked twist to his sharp smile. "The right music, sure. But the right music is different depending on the person." "Like he said. I haven't actually done anything in a number of years. It's a lot of busy work, trying to land a part, and I was never really good." Mel admits easily, a shrug in her shoulders. "I did 'Bye, bye, Birdie' in high school, and 'Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat,' but I only had smaller parts. I'm a real good chorus girl, but I'm a bit too tall to be in most of the choruses." She contemplates the last bits of her burrito before admitting, "Now I'm too busy to care about casting calls and too happy with my life to care." She stuffs the rest of her burrito in her mouth. "Well, that's the most important thing, right?" Sebastian's smile is small, considerably less toothy than his twin's as he keeps his lips carefully closed. "Busy /and/ happy's a good combination. Though sometimes hard to balance. Too hard of one and sometimes I forget about the other." "Runs in the family." Shane gives a brief downward twist of his lips at this, but it doesn't last long in the face of More Taco. He is making them disappear fairly rapidly. Though he does leave half for his brother. "Are you going to be a caffeinating-homeless-people-superhero forever?" "Yeah, definitely. Sometimes it's a balance. Sometimes, it's just stopping, looking around and realizing how good you have it." Melinda turns to look at Shane when he asks his question and considers. "Gosh, I don't know. Parents keep wanting me to have a long term goal, but I'm okay with how things are now. Maybe I'll have my own shop some day - then I can promise you all the chais you can order, as long as I am open." "Your superpower is caffeinating homeless people?" Sebastian's quiet chuckle comes as he licks his fingertips clean of sauce from his taco. "That seem really specific." He looks a little more thoughtful, though, considering her words. His brow furrows, his expression pensive. Momentarily pensive, anyway, until he is leaning over for another taco. "How good we have it," he echoes. His lips twitch at the corners. "Yeah. It's always a good thing to keep in mind." "Specific and awesome. C'mon, /everyone/ needs access to caffeine." Shane has finished all six of his allotted half, and now he leans back against the couch, tipping his head back until his bristly-spiky hair rests up against his brother's arm. "Long-term goals are dumb. The world changes too fast to keep up with them." "Well, even if this is the only good moment you've had all day, sitting here, eating with you guys, it's a good thing." Melinda rummages around in her bag to find the chorizo in a small paper bag. She pulls out a slice of a link and nibbles on it. "Pretty much. So many people's lives change overnight." She frowns and continues eating. "Is this the only good moment you've had all day?" Sebastian asks with a slight note of concern, and then, with a warmer smile: "Is this a good moment?" He leans down to snag the bag with the rest of the fish tacos. Just in case Shane changes his mind. He watches Melinda's face, thoughtful. "For the worse and for the better." "There was mexican food. Of course it's a good moment." Shane doesn't stop Sebastian from taking his Proper Share of tacos, although he does look at the bag a little wistfully. "Usually for the worse, though. More people lose their jobs overnight than win the lottery. Or lose their /tacos/." "You had half," Sebastian answers, sticking out his tongue. "Probably. I was kind of working all day and everyone is doing their Holiday shopping and forgetting about the more joyful reasons for the season." Melinda rolls her eyes and munches down on her bits of sausage to finish them off. "But yeah. This is a good moment. I'm off my feet. I've got good company, free tasty food, and well, you guys now know more about my shelter and can maybe help people you know." She smiles at the twins and rubs the back of her neck. "Yeah. I see a lot of it. I hope to never see you guys as patrons of my second job, but think of me if you ever need the service." She gets up slowly and moves toward the box. "I should go. Gotta get to Chelsea and then ... well, maybe take an early night in preparation for tomorrow." "Might check you out even if I don't need it," Sebastian admits, his smile warm as he looks at Melinda. "At least when school's on holiday I've got lots of time. If you need extra hands ever. And um, if those hands being webbed won't -- hurt more than it helps," he adds, nose wrinkling sheepishly. "It was nice to meet you --" He trails off with a little bit of an uncertain frown, here. "Mel," Shane supplies again. His smile is bright-fierce-toothsome, and he jerks his chin upwards in a nod as Mel stands. "Yeah. Was good. Thanks for the tacos. See you round, maybe." He gets up, too, plucking his coat off the arm of the chair and rounding the couch to bap his brother on the shoulder, and gesture towards the stairs. "Rest good! Superheroing's hard work!" And with that he is off, towards the stairwell. Though not before pilfering a scrap of fish from Sebastian's taco. Melinda waves to the boys before picking up her box and getting situated, then letting herself out. "Good night!"