ArchivedLogs:Cupcakes and Sunshine

Cupcakes and Sunshine
Dramatis Personae Hanna, Murphy, Micah, Jackson, Jayna	15 May 2013 '
Location <NYC> Happy Cakes Bakery - TriBeCa
Happy Cakes Bakery is a cheery little spot of vintage charm amidst the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan neighborhood, a refurbished pair of row homes that hardly resemble their previous selves - the front walls are almost entirely gleaming glass, with the logo of the bakery painted onto the top, and rainbows of cupcakes dancing along the edges. Eclectically styled, it seems homey and welcoming - if the cross stitched sign by the door wasn't obvious enough - "All are Welcome!" it reads, with the "All" underlined in a sparkling bubble gum pink and yellow dotted line, with the logo of the bakery, a cheery smiling pink and white cupcake, beneath the lettering. Once inside, the walls of the combination bakery and coffee shop are covered in crisp clean white ceramic tile, with the occasional randomly placed tile with an color engraving of a tropical flower, or tile made of reclaimed China. Ambient music reminiscent of the Big Band era plays through the shop, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to make conversation difficult. Tables and chairs in a variety of sizes, colors, and styles fill one side of the room, none of them quite matching each other, but all of them seeming to work together. The other side of the shop is a long series of gleaming glass and chrome bakery displays, filled with colorful sweets and treats of every description. To one end of the counter is a gleaming chrome espresso machine with far more tubes and bobbles than is really necessary, but producing excellent espresso beverages. At the other end is the old style cash register, a chrome and cherry wood relic from a bygone age that dings cheerily with each sale. The wall behind the counter is covered in photos of a tropical island, as well as a pair of shops that look like a smaller version of this one, several including a pair of dark haired women. A slim young man with tousled auburn hair is chattering away as he leads another, more colourful young man along by the hand. Jingle! Right through the cheerful front door! Micah is dressed in faded, patched blue jeans and a white T-shirt depicting a gleeful T-rex, holding two adaptive reachers, under the heading 'UNSTOPPABLE!' It is sunny and almost warm today! So Micah has insisted on taking Jax out for sugarythings. "One of my PT's was raving /so hard/ about the vegan goodies here! And you have to trust PT's when it comes to food. They are practically obsessed. I think it's part of the curriculum to get the degree now. It's what they added for the doctorate." Natternatternatter. He has probably been doing this the whole way here. Jax has been uncharacteristically quiet, here. Soft assenting noises at the appropriate intervals, but his own usual stream of chatter has been nonexistent. He's still /bright/ even if quiet -- hair fire-engine red with black streaks, glittering red nails, black t-shirt sprinkled with purple and blue stars (it reads 'believe in faeries' on the front, and has a large blue pair of butterfly wings on the back), red skinny jeans. Large mirrored glasses. A smile, even if not much by way of speaking. His hand in Micah's is hot, noticeably so, and he hesitates once they're inside the store. Presumably looking around. Behind the sunglasses it's hard to tell. "... they make you be vegan to get a doctorate?" There is a distinct note of /confusion/ in his heavy Southern drawl. The cheery bakery is staffed by two equally cheery looking women, one of them a rotund woman of Pacific Island extraction, wearing a brilliantly colorful floral print wiggle dress, her long hair down in a single braid that nearly reaches her knees. Hanna is bouncing around to the swing music in the store, wiping down the counter tops with a faded pink cloth, even though the vintage chrome is already spotless. The other woman is leaning against the counter top beside the coffee machine, watching Hanna with amusement, while sipping idly from a wide coffee cup, her deep brown skin contrasting against her springy green hair. The chime over the door gets Hanna's attention, and she flashes an infectious smile, chirping in greeting, "Hi! Welcome to Happy Cakes. Have a look around and let me know if you have any questions, comments, or anything." Her cheeriness is almost cloying, but seems genuine to a fault, as she sets aside the cleaning cloth, taking a moment to retie her crisp white apron. Micah lifts Jax's hand to brush a kiss against the inside of his wrist, still gently leading toward the counter. "No, silly! I think they just make them food obsessed. Or...only recruit food obsessed people. For their programs. Although, there does seem to be a higher than population average percentage of vegetarians and vegans amongst therapists that I have met," his chatter continues until Hanna's greeting chirp. He flashes a bright smile in greeting. "HIhihi, Miss! I heard a pleasant rumour 'bout vegan desserts here? Y'got anythin' t'fit the bill today?" Jackson's smile is bright, and warm, though he is slower to shift out of his subdued quiet. His fingers curl through Micah's, head tilting towards the display. "Afternoon, miss. Miss - es," he adds with a faint blush, taking note of both the women there. "I'm looking for sugar," he tacks on to Micah's question. "Vegan sugar." Hanna's smile doesn't dim in the least, "Oh! I try to keep at least a few vegan treats in the shop. It isn't our /main/ focus," she says, walking down to the end of the counter, nearest the register, and pointing at a row of treats, "But I try to accommodate everyone I can, when possible. And my mom had some pretty awesome recipes to work from. I've added on to them but," the bubbly woman shrugs, pausing in her babbling. There's about three different trays of treats with a little cupcake with a v shaped leaf as a hat on the logos, which Hanna points out, "All of our stuff is locally sourced when possible, organic, and today's vegan offerings are Mint Julep cupcakes, passion fruit tartlets with coconut cream center, and a blueberry brownies. We do, however, bake all our stuff in the same ovens, but everything is thoroughly cleaned between batches, and we try not to bake the vegan goodies along with the non-vegan stuff." She offers another kind smile to the pair, "I'm Hanna. Jayna can help you out with coffee drinks, which we do have non-dairy based creams if you are interested," she nods towards the green haired woman who still sits beside the coffee machine. There is a man approaching Hanna's cheery bakery. A man who does not look...very /friendly/. He wears a black long-coat; black dress-slacks -- white shirt, tie, boots. He is currently leaning - heavily - upon a crutch. It does not look like a very /new/ crutch; in fact, it has the appearance of something that was picked out of a Dumpster. Battered, with its soft-tipped under-arm support long torn away, exposing the skeletal support. Traces of rust along the metal bits. At the bottom, the nub has been replaced with a split tennis ball. The approaching man leans heavily on it, favoring his right side. When he enters Hanna's bakery, his eyes are clearly upon Jax. He moves toward him - a steady clunk, clunk, clunk of that crutch - getting closer. As he approaches, one might notice a particular... smell. It is not potent, but it /is/ present. And it is very unpleasant. "Mr. Holland?" the man asks, hovering about six feet away, speaking just at the end of Hanna's description of the vegan-styled treats and offer of coffee. "Murphy Law. We spoke a few months ago about a missing boy. Victor Borkowski." Beat. "I'm looking for more missing children. Kind of an epidemic, actually. Do you have a minute?" Very /polite/. Almost forcibly so. Nevertheless, Murphy looks as grim as a terminal prognosis. By the look of his eyes, he hasn't been sleeping. Micah grins at Hannah's explanations and descriptions, wide enough to crinkle the bridge of his nose and the corners of his eyes. "Momma recipes tend t'be the best recipes, I find. You put chocolate and blueberries in the same thing! Sign me up for one of those." He offers a wave with his free hand at the introduction. "I'm Micah! Nice t'meet you, Hanna an' Jayna. Ooo...coffee." He might be able to challenge a gnat in a battle of attention spans. Maybe. Then...then there is a /grim man/. Micah's eyes dart between the newcomer and Jax, brow beginning to furrow with concern. "Same oven's aright. Though thanks for mentioning. S'nice enough just to find places that got something to offer. I'll -- try -- one of each," Jax decides with a small curl of smile. It drops off his face as he turns, mirrored glasses looking Murphy over. The smile widens, even if his hand tightens in Micah's. "Yeah. I remember you, sir." His tone is light, steady. Calm, if you ignore his deathgrip on Micah's hand. "What's it you want to talk to me about?" Hanna smiles to Micah, "Well Micah, it is quite nice to meet you." As the door rings, Hanna offers her cheerful greeting once again, "Hello! Welcome to Happy Cakes, please, have a look around and..." she trails off as the waft of something unpleasant assaults her nostrils, her smile faltering for the first time, finishing the sentence quietly, through clenched teeth, "We have public bathrooms, if you would like to wash up, sir." Her smile brightens again, as she sets about pulling the three pastries onto a tray for Jackson, although her eyes do not leave Murphy, after seeing the reactions of the other two. A sideways glance to Jayna sends the young woman back into the kitchen, although she returns a moment later, standing by Hanna's side again. The proprietors of the shop simply watch, unsure how how to proceed. Murphy does not respond to Hanna's generous offer. Instead, he's staring down /Jax/. With that implacable scowl-faced stare. One could imagine it is /etched/ on Murphy's skull. "Peter. Shane. Sebastian. Jim." He rattles the names off with a hiss, pausing only long enough to take a breath. "And now, after a trip to chat with some friends below -- Nox. Marrow. Masque. And," this last one is added with a narrowing of the eyes, "Victor. All of whom got two things in common. The first being, they all went missing within the past two weeks. The second being, well. I figure you /already/ know that one." Murphy takes a step back - slow. As if he's somehow realized that his mere /presence/ is a threat. Well, maybe just his stench. The next words are - gritted behind clenched teeth. "I need. Your. Hhhhelp." Tsssss. "...information. Compiling. There are /more/." Then, just - /glaring/ at Jackson. Like this whole thing is his fault: "I'm not good. At this part. With people. That's /Jim/'s department." Micah's hand squeezes back at Jax's, albeit not nearly as hard. Just reassuring. He arches an inquisitive brow at Murphy. "Is this Murphy? Because Mel texted me earlier an' said you should know that Jim trusts Murphy." A silent 'whatever /that/ means' might be tagged on to that sentence. Aware of the shop ladies' uncertainty in the somewhat awkward situation, he directs a simple question toward them both. For busying. "Don't s'pose you have /blueberry/ coffee? I tried to get blueberry coffee, but it was convenience store coffee, so it kind of tasted like someone put a half of a blueberry in a vat of battery acid." "I don't think that was coffee, I think it mighta /been/ battery acid," Jax supplies with a small smile. "Can I have -- oh gosh I don't know. Something with a /lot/ of caffeine. And sugar. And maybe almond or hazelnut or coconut creamer if you have any of those? Anything -- not-soy. But soy if you don't got nothin' else." He is not just a vegan apparently he is a /picky/ vegan. He mitigates this pickiness with a hopeful smile. All of this miiight be stalling, because his brow is creasing deeply when he looks back at Murphy. "-- We been informationgathering just today," he admits, slowly. "What do /you/ know?" Jayna sets about preparing the coffee, occasionally glancing back towards Hanna to be certain that everything is ok, her eyes darting towards the trio of customers with a furrowed brow. Each motion the young barista makes comes with the swishing sound of wind on long grasses - apparently from her long green braid. "We have almond milk, but there's coconut in the back we use for baking," Jayna offers, glancing sideways towards Jackson, and looking a bit concerned at the description of the blueberry coffee, "That was not coffee. Nor was it blueberry. I will make you blueberry coffee. And it will be glorious." The barista apparently takes her craft seriously, or is using it as a focus to avoid the nervous concentration in the room. Hanna is leaning on the recently cleaned counter top, arms folded gently in front of her, her concerned eyes now a green tinged yellow, when you could swear that they had been a coffee brown tinged with gold previously. "Gentlemen. I do not mind you having this conversation in my bakery. However, I will not tolerate fighting," her voice is even, calming, with just the slightest hint of mothering scolding, "If you would like any kind of pastry to argue over, please just let me --" The list of missing kids causes her to stop mid sentence, her brow furrowing, and her eyes shifting to a solid yellow color. "Wait. Peter? Peter Parker? You are the second group that has come in here looking for him this week. What is going on here? Are... are there that many people missing? In just two weeks?" Hanna cannot just butt out, and she sounds genuinely concerned. Murphy narrows his eyes at Hanna as she speaks, and responds. Watching. That shift in eye-color; trick of the light? Maybe. Instead of replying to her question, though, his attention shifts right back to Jax - as he answers his question. "Sloan Harper. Runs a gym. Teaches fighting. Disappeared over a month ago." Pause. "Benjamin Levisay. Art student, Columbia University. Disappeared three weeks ago. Both cases, family makes a stink. Both cases, police twiddle thumbs. Peter kid. Known. Family. Making noise. Nox. /Known/. She shook hands with Norman /fucking/ Osborn. There are others. A lot of others. This does not fit -- the /pattern/, Mr. Holland. I need more information. I need to know what you know." Murphy Law twitches. At this point, he probably sounds... pretty deranged. "Need more pieces of the puzzle. To put it together." Micah's hand is not letting go of Jax's anytime soon. "Oh, /real/ blueberry coffee! You are a goddess amongst baristas." His head bows slightly in Jayna's direction, though his eyes stay glued to Murphy. "/Nobody/ is fightin'," the statement comes as almost an order, though Micah's voice brightens immediately after. "So, not to worry." But then there is more talk of missing people, Murphy's /litany/ to follow. Including a certain... "Nox? So she is really missin', too? I keep leavin' notes but nobody's been 'round the gardens lately. Not just her. Nobody." Micah has misplaced his cheerful again, too. "Nobody's fighting," Jackson answers this reflexive and kind of abrupt. "Wait, Levisay, I think I know --" His brow furrows deeper. He also seems to have no intention of stopping his hard squeeze on Micah's hand. When he turns aside it's abrupt, too, finding the nearest table and dropping down into a chair heavily. "-- S'just Jax," he mumbles. "Not Mister --" His head shakes. His head is turned towards the glass display of pastries, and his sunglasses make his gaze just look blank and vacant. "-- I went to a couple. To check -- but they -- yeah. I had to do some of the harvesting myself and I didn't -- know who to give --" He's still focused on the display cases. Slowly, though, his head turns towards Hanna. "There's -- people missing." His voice is quiet, an odd gentle calm settling over it. "You heard anything?" "I just wanted to give you fair warning, about the fighting," Hanna says quietly, her eyes slowly starting to fade back to a dull brown color, decidedly lacking the golden spark they had before. She walks the plate of vegan pastries over to Jax, setting them down with a fork and a neatly folded white napkin. In front of Micah, she sets down a plate with two pastries, one the blueberry chocolate brownie, and the other a mini blueberry tartlet with a chocolate crust, "You seemed excited about the blueberry idea, thought you might want to try these." The grumpy man gets a chocolate donut, whether he wants it or not. "Your coffees will be up in a moment," she says, standing momentarily beside the table, "I've been keeping an eye and ear out, but I haven't heard anything. I just know there was a group of kids and a chaperone in here this past weekend, looking for Peter. Seemed sort of jumpy about it when I offered to put the photo up to see if anyone knew anything." She frowns slightly, the expression looking a bit out of place on her rounded features. Hanna leans against the glass case, arms folded over her ample chest, "If you are actually helping to look for those kids, and those missing people, you can use the space. Snacks are on me. No fighting." Jayna brings over the coffees for everyone, dolling them out. Micah's is topped with a dolop of blue tinged whipped cream, with a single blueberry balanced on top of it. Murphy gets a black coffee, because it seems fitting, if nothing else. As the barista is beside the table, there is a breif scent of a field after a spring rain, and the earthiness of fresh earth - actually overpowering the "interesting" scent that Murphy brought with him. If somebody's going to start a fight, it doesn't look like it's going to be Murphy. He /does/ look angry; he always looks angry - but the man's clearly... dangling by a thread, here. The crutch is bearing most of his weight; one of his hands is still swarmed with bandages. Freshly changed, with a whiff of antiseptic just under the still-clinging odor of... nnngh. /Sewers/. /Somehow/, Murphy ends up - with a coffee. And a chocolate doughnut. What... just happened? He stares at them, long and hard - that perpetual scowl of his flickers toward something else. Bafflement? He looks to Hanna a moment. /Staring/. As if to ask - 'what am I supposed to do with these things?!'. But then... CHOMP. He takes a wolfish bite out of the doughnut. As if to /spite/ them all. It might not work. "Checked below," Murphy tells Micah, eyes moving back to Jax. "S'how I got the stink. Her friends tell me she went out with two others. None of 'em came back." No word on who her friends are. Murphy's /trying/ to keep this low key. "Jax." He slumps down to a chair, himself. WHUMP. Doughnut in one hand, coffee in the other, crutch just kind of - propped up on the side. "They're taking us. In fucking daylight. Even /visible/ ones." Then, with a barely-disguised hiss: "They took. /Jim/." Being still attached by the hand to Jax, Micah is sort of pulled along when the other man makes for a table. Micah plunks himself into the chair next to him. "Yeah, y'got a coupla bags of things in your fridge now," Micah informs Jax, in case he hadn't noticed. Because that is really the most important thing to discuss right now. "Oh! Thank you," he offers with a nod to Hanna as she delivers the order with extra treats. The sentiment is repeated to Jayna as drinks arrive, as well. Despite Hanna's offer of free snacks, Micah does withdraw a few bills from his wallet (which is really just some craftily arranged duct tape) and tucks them under a napkin holder. If nothing else, it can be a very generous tip. His tongue darts out to retrieve the lonely blueberry from atop the little whipped cream mountain, like a frog catching a fly. He chews at it thoughtfully, brows attempting to introduce themselves to one another as Murphy reveals more of the /depth/ of the already troubling issue. "Oh! Oh. That's -- thank you, that's generous, you don't -- thank you." Jackson seems a little flustered by this, eying the arriving goodies with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. "We're looking --" he starts to say to Hanna, but then tips his head down towards the table. "They took Jim," he agrees with Murphy quietly. "They took my /sons/." Despite the fact he looks barely out of his teens himself. His free hand curls around the coffee mug, then abandons it just as quickly to instead scruff through his hair. "Peter had some things on him. With GPS in," Jax says, slowly. "We tracked them down. To the police station. Hive and I went to talk to them about it today." Each word comes out slow and reluctant, and his hand curls tighter in Micah's throughout. Hanna offers a kind smile to the three men at the table, a tinge of sadness in her dark eyes, "If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know." The baker ducks behind the counter again, pulling a mini tartlet out for herself to eat - apparently self medicating. The discussion of the missing people, so many of them missing, makes Jayna shudder slightly, before going back to cleaning up the espresso machine and the other dishes. Hanna is leaning against the case again, thinking for a moment, but chosing to keep her thoughts to herself. Nnrrgh. The mention of Jax's sons. Murphy just. Takes /another/ bite of the doughnut. Growling as he listens. About Peter's GPS. Police station. Absorbing. Absently, he takes another bite out of the doughnut. Mulling it over. Looking past Jax's shoulder. Then... "This is the best fucking doughnut I've ever tasted," he comments, the words spoken half-way through a snarl. His expression /tenses/, then; it's like - there's a /war/ going on underneath his skin. A struggle between opposite aligned forces, each vying for dominance. The right side of his lip... it seems to be trying to curl upward. Fighting, tooth and nail, for each millimeter it can get. Whatever /this/ is, Murphy does everything in his power to suppress it. Just - pushing it down. Scowling /twice/ as hard. "I hit up some old contacts of mine back down at Quantico. I can't say for certain, but. It don't /sound/ like the FBI's got him." Oh. So apparently, Murphy knows about. Peter's extra curricular activities. "Which indicates two things: Either the cops found what was left after he got napped, or a cop napped him and decided /not/ to turn him in." Then: "They in the evidence locker? You check the sign in sheet, yet?" Another bite of that doughnut. What the fuck, doughnut? Why are you so fucking /delicious/? And what's with this - nngh. What's with this thing his mouth is trying to do?! Micah nibbles at his brownie, postponing asking the question for a moment. Because...he sort of already knows the answer and it probably isn't /good/. "Did anythin' come of the station visit?" He watches Murphy closely, worried that he might be having a /seizure/ or something with the face twitches. "Um...did...did they maybe not pay attention because of the mutant thing? Because I can go be not mutanty at somebody if that's at all helpful." All of this last is said in a small, withdrawn kind of voice. "Evidence, yeah. We didn't get to see. But Hive was listening," Jax's finger taps against his temple, here. "They freaked out about the terrorist thing and asked us a billion questions. that seemed genuine. But he said underneath there was weird thoughts about this one cop --" Jax's brows crease, dipping behind the edge of glasses. "Thinking about some missing mutants cases that were being sat on. Not looked into. Figured I'd ask Eric to look at it -- see who checked them into evidence." His teeth scrape against his lip. "If that don't turn up nothing," he agrees with Micah, "it certainly don't never /hurt/ to have a /wholesome/ face on our side." Hanna offers a smile at Murphy's reaction to the donut, "Glad you like it. Family recipe," she says, glancing back at the photos behind the counter. Jayna is watching too, a bemused smirk on her face at Murphy's reaction, which she covers quickly with a long pull of her long cold coffee. The mention of the cops, and especially the missing mutants, causes her to look at Jayna nervously, then back to the others, moving to stand near Jayna again, before vanishing into the back of the cafe. Murphy has finished the doughnut. He now peers suspiciously at the coffee, as if to determine whether or not it's going to have a similar effect to the doughnut. His first sip is - slow. Skeptical. But then... sip. Sssip. Ssssssip. Mmm. At the mention of Eric's name -- Murphy almost /chokes/. "...Sutton. The one who -- your /boy/?" Incredulous. But then. Wait, does Jax even - /know/? Murphy actually looks wide-eyed for a moment. Like he might have just made a /magnificent/ blunder. But then: "...cops sittin' on missing mutant cases ain't nothin' special," Murphy growls, "though, s'better than /nothing/. But whoever found the kid's GPS - you wanna know what he knows. Where he found 'em. Did someone turn 'em in? Find 'em in a dumpster? Once you got that, you got a scent to follow." For a moment, Murphy /eyes/ Micah, and. Hnn. He just sips the coffee again. "I'm going to shower. Sleep. And then," he adds, "I'm gonna hit up the family of Sloan Harper. They're the loudest. Maybe there's a puzzle piece there." He reaches into his coat. Fishing for a card. It might have a whiff of stink to it; battered and beaten. MURPHY LAW: PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR. Phone number and fax. Rising to his feet. "You find something new. Do me a favor. Call me. I'll do the same. You find out where /Jim/ is, you tell me. I find where your /boys/ are, I tell you." And then he's gripping that crutch, /pulling/ himself up with a grunt. Just, hobbling toward the exit.