ArchivedLogs:Diversions
| Diversions | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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15 March 2014 Gaming diversions on a Saturday night. |
| Location
<NYC> The Batcave - Greenwich Village | |
Nestled in a basement of the meatpacking district, a hybrid of arcade and cybercafe, The Batcave is far more sociable a place than its name would suggest. Filled at all hours of day with the beeps and music and explosions of a myriad of arcade games, as well as the laughter and conversation (and curses) to go with it, the dark theme in decor is broken up by the bright lights of their game machines. One corner of the establishment is a perpetual LAN party with a projector screen-equipped lounge area for spectators. Along the opposite wall, a counter serves soft drinks and greasy junk food, and off in the back a door leads to what is by far the larger part of the establishment: a fully-equipped laser tag arena. The hour is growing quite late, but really -- by popular stereotype, that's about when creatures like Dusk /should/ be active. And he certainly seems to be living up to the stereotype today; at least, despite the late hour there's a /lively/ energy to the young man. Eyes brightly focused, wings twitch-shifting restlessly with each change of motion, sharp fangs /bared/ in fierce grin. For all the stares his wings attract (his game has a very small crowd of what is probably better termed /gawkers/ than spectators, focused more on sharp fangs and enormous wings than on the volley of the puck) he's nondescript in dress -- brown corduroys, a soft grey t-shirt heavily modified in back to allow for his wings, sweatshirt and jacket discarded at his feet and half-under the table. Currently he is leaning in to an air hockey table, one hand gripping his mallet firmly while his other rests on the edge of the table just beside a large (popped-open) thermos that looks very precariously set to have an /accident/ if he moves his hand too fast. Which in this game he very well might do, sudden-quick motions to intercept the puck as it comes sliding towards him and send it ricocheting at a sharp-fast angle back towards the opposite goal. Manning the opposite goal is recent-arrival Alyssa, whose own grin is notably //not//-fanged but no less fiercely bright; she wields her mallet left-handed, the sharp *clack* of puck against it followed by a rapid-fire tak-tak-tak as the puck ping-pongs against the sides of the table on a more shallow, if no less speedy, trajectory. She swears, cheerful, under her breath, and lunges a bit to try to catch it and send it flying back on a more //direct// line, but is unsuccessful. She is in faint-sparkle jeans and still wearing this morning's stolen shirt (black, stylized gunnerkrigg court coyote), but tonight she has eschewed double-braids for single-, heavy against her back as she plays. Dusk is certainly worth /watching/, but Micah is currently up near the broad side of the air hockey table, watching the action of the game instead. He's dressed...pretty much to fit in with the current crowd: charcoal grey T-shirt on which a horde of Minions are in the process of stealing the TARDIS worn over a similar-grey henley, faded bluejeans covered in an assortment of colourful patches, and hiking boots. His messenger bag, hat, and jacket are crumpled in a pile near his feet, tucked under the table for now. Micah has elected himself commentator of this game. "We got quite a match this evenin', folks. Our scrappy newcomer is full of fight, but can she stand up t'the blazin'-fast moves of our reignin' champ?" Off to the side, but surprisingly not hidden in a corner, sits Anette, watching the air hockey game in amusement. She is sipping on a large soda, a stack of game tokens next to her, debating if she wants to offer to play winner or not. Unlike others present, though, her mutations are hidden away, her wings tucked away as usual beneath a leather jacket that she never seems to take off, no matter the temperature or weather. She seems comfortable though, relaxed in her booth with her boots propped up on the other side, a faint smile on her usual stern face. Sometimes, Sage comes to the arcade. She remembers (of course) all the little secrets of the olden games that she's played and likes to attempt to place records..solely for record-keeping, really. Entering the arcade, her eyes dart around rather rapidly, as she takes everything in, before she heads straightly towards the table with Aly and Dusk. And immediately speaks towards Dusk. "Your thermos is in a very bad position. The slightest movement and it can be knocked downwards." And then, she's turning to Micah, speaking just after the previous time. "Hello, Micah. How are you doing tonight?" Sage is dressed in her gray XS hoodie (she doesn't have much of a closet), a pair of jeans, boots, and, as always, her red-tinted smartglasses ATHENA over her eyes. "She's wearing sparkle," Dusk says this through his teeth though it's in grin, still, not grimace, "that's not even fair glitter's distracting." Though he doesn't seem particularly distracted -- at /first/, focused in on the puck as Aly clacks it back towards him. "-- Hm?" Sage's arrival doesn't pull his eyes off his /target/ -- at least not until she mentions the thermos. Startled, he straightens, the motion promptly toppling the thermos off the air hockey table and down towards the ground. It's kind of inhuman-fast the speed at which he reflexively leans in to /swipe/ it out of midair -- few drops of crimson-red liquid splatter out of it onto the ground before he rights it -- but, eyes away from the table now the puck is clattering down into his goal even as he sets his thermos back on the table. And pushes its cap /closed/, this time. "-- Ohshi --" His black eyes have widened as the score tips over from tie to Aly-lead, and he's quickly grabbing the puck to set it back on the table and /zing/ it back in the other direction when the timer trips down to zero and the air stops flowing. "Mother/fucker/," nevertheless has a laughing undertone to it. "Micah, you down to play wi -- /woah/ hey!" He has just caught sight of Anette off to the side, curling the top of one wing in a wave towards her. "Been missing you on Fridays, how you been?" "I could have been wearing //more//," Aly is quick to counter with, "I took off my scarf and everything!" Her stuff is also tucked under the table -- rainbow scarf with sparklythread, denim jacket because she is totally stubbornly proving a point about not having de-acclimated while living in California. "An' I shoulda maybe left it on, gotta try to even the odds //somehow// but--" Sage's distraction is enough that she's actually looking, taking her eyes off the table in spite of what a terrible plan //that// is -- but her, "Nice catch," ends on an inarticulate WHOOP as the puck goes in, and she abandons all pretense of dignity to do a little boogie-dance of victory. "Thanks for the assist!" is cheerful-chirruped at Sage, and she waves Micah up to the table while Dusk greets Anette. "Dusk's givin' excuses already. Not a good sign for our champ, folks," Micah continues his commentary-banter. "Aly-honey, y'could also be wearin' /less/ if your goal was distractin' Dusk." His grin is lopsided-teasing, a hint of pink seeping into his cheeks at his own words. He lifts a hand to wave at Sage as she approaches. "Evenin', Sage. I'm well. We're just...kinda out for a nice distraction, y'kno--whoa!" His weight shifts forward, arm reaching out toward the falling Thermos. But Dusk is on it quicker than he could hope to be. He shifts back into a more casual stance. "Sure, I could take winner. 'Less there's somebody else /really/ itchin' for it." Anette looks up and grins as Dusk notices her, waving back. "Well, court dates and jail time eat up an unhealthy amount of a person's time. But everything's over and I'm back for good. Did I miss anything fun while I was gone?" She looks over as Micah calls winner. "Fine, but I get to play next winner." She finishes her soda and sets it to the side, rising to get a quick look of the games. "Ooh, I'll be playing this one if anyone needs me," she says, making her way to an alien shooting game, dropping tokens in and picking up the neon blue rifle. "This is why I warned you." Sage says this as emotionlessly as usual, as she eyes down to the crimson red liquid, trying to figure out what it is by a glance. And then she spots Anette, speaking towards her without turning towards her. "Have you caused any more violence since our last encounter?" Sage's poking her glasses upwards, turning to Aly. "I do not believe we have met. I am Sage. And you are..welcome." Then she's then watching the game, though, no commentary. "Waaaa-hait," Dusk's eyes have widened and he slides the puck towards Micah even as he's turning to look after Anette. "Court dates? /Jail/? Man you can't just drop that and walk off without a /story/, spill? -- Anyway that was a total Matrix moment," he adds over his shoulder to Sage, "if you hadn't said anything, would I have spilled it? Now we'll /never/ know." He digs a pair of quarters out of his pocket, setting them down on the edge of the table for Micah and Aly's game. "Good game. /Totally/ having a rematch sometime." He adds this to Aly with a streeetch of enormous wing down the side of the table, wingtip brushing up against Aly's elbow before pulling back in. "Violence?" His brows quirk upwards, and he wanders a little closer to the shooting game, keeping half an eye on the nearby air hockey table. He takes his thermos with him, popping its lid to take a long swig. Back near the table the red droplets that have spattered on the ground definitely /look/ very dark-thick. "I don't know about fun," though his sharp-toothed grin says nothing /but/ fun, "but they had a /spot/ of trouble down at a bunch of registration offices. The kind of trouble with explosions." Recognition takes a moment, but dawns clearly across Aly's face, and she makes a little you-me gesture at Anette, her, "You and me, even if I'm //not// winner, gosh." It's a little old-home week-y. Just a little. She waggles her eyebrows at Dusk, though, brushing her hand over his wing where it touches her on her way to reaching for the quarters, and waving Micah into place with a grin that's bright-bright and full of cheerful challenge. "Already distracted him with wearing //less// this morning, uh, I'm still not super good at remembering clothes need to happen before coffee does, //but// coffee //did// happen," and she stole Flicker's shirt, so, y'know. Things. Since it's her left hand that holds the mallet, her right is free to extend toward Sage (before she puts quarters in the machine). "Aly," she offers, "nice to meetcha. You play?" Micah slides into place at Dusk's spot when he's waved over. He chuckles at Sage's told-you-so. His head tilts at the commentaries on jail and causing violence but shakes that off, instead collecting the mallet. “You'll have t'take it a little easier on me, sugar. I ain't got none of Dusk's enhanced reflexes or nothin'.” Another giggle comes at Aly's story. “It /is/ hard t'remember t'/anythin'/ before coffee in the mornin'.” He sets himself into a better stance for play, waiting while Aly puts the quarters in the machine. Anette rolls her eyes at Sage's comment, mildly annoyed. "We were attacked. What was I supposed to do, just let them kill me? How did you get off scott-free anyway?" She turns to Dusk and shakes her head with a quiet sigh. "We were at Zabar's. A few customers discovered we were mutants and decided to attack us. I defended myself and was rewarded with a week in jail." She turns to Aly and offers a faint smile, trying to bring her mood back up. "Alright, me and you next, as long as you're prepared to lose." "You were bumped into and leaped immediately into a hostile manuever." Sage is still watching the game, having not moved her eyes though her voice is directed towards Anette. "I did not instigate any violence, nor did I possess weapons." Sage shakes Aly's hand, a small comment as she does so. "So that is what that was." She doesn't expand on this, as she continues. "Not often. I know the rules, and I know the mechanics." "That sounds crappy," Dusk answers with a sympathetic grimace to Anette, "Zabar's is a shithole, though. Probably why that guy torched the place last year. Just wish it had /stayed/ closed. They're kind of fascistic about kicking out freaks." He meanders a little back towards the table, watching the air hockey game. He lifts his thermos up towards his mouth, jaw tightening in a small grimace at his next gulp. "Why didn't you build enhanced reflexes into your whole -- cyborg packet? I would think shit like that came standard." /He/ just grins at Aly's story, brighter and wider. "/I/ wasn't complaining. Those butterflies first thing in the morning make the /whole/ damn day more cheerful. -- I think Flicker might not be done blushing even /yet/, though." Alyssa tips her head at Sage's comment but doesn't pursue it - instead she reclaims her hand and pops the quarters into the machine and SMACKS the puck down onto the table as it starts up. "I was totally on my toes whole last game, I'm betting this one will be more fair--" Which doesn't mean she takes it easy, though, swatting the puck with her mallet to send it ricocheting across the table. "They //are// pretty amazing butterflies, I will admit," she answers Dusk, "but it's not like I'm the //only// one in the apartment who doesn't always remember, you know, //clothes// in the morning--" Not that she's complaining either, apparently. Micah doesn't respond to the violence discussion other than to snort softly at the mention of Zabar's. Someone clearly isn't a fan. "Ain't got a...packet? What in the world's a cyborg packet, anyhow?" he replies with an amused laugh. "Just got the leg. Ain't gonna do much for my hand-eye reflexes." His smile widens at the talk of Geekhaus's entertaining-seeming morning. "Goodness, Flicker hardly ever stops blushin' as it /is/. Sounds like y'all dropped 'im into a nudist apartment this mornin', what else d'you expect?" He brings his mallet across quickly to intercept the puck and sent it winging back toward the opposite goal. "I manage t'hold my own well enough despite more'n half of everybody 'round me havin' some kinda special ability or other. Go ahead an' bring it, sugar." Anette begins shooting at the aliens popping up on the screen, taking her frustrations out on the pixelated creatures. "Somebody bumped into my wings. I'm a bit touchy about them and I -may- have hissed. Purely instinctual and just a warning. He overreacted and attacked me." BANG! BANG! BANG! Aliens down! "Besides, this is New York. The city where forgetting your turn signal will get you five fingers." She suddenly curses, setting the gun down as her game ends for shooting a civilian. "I'm getting more soda," she mumbles, quickly making her way to the counter. "Zombie trigger." Sage points this out calmly, as she ends the discussion as Anette walks off. "I almost forgot that I came here to play some games." Of course, she's lying, she doesn't forget stuff, as she heads over to one of the arcade games and puts in a few quarters, beginning her session. "/Is/ what this place is for." Dusk's wing curls in farewell wave as Sage walks off, and he meanders closer to rest a hand against the wide edge of the table, eyes tracking the quick back-and-forth of the puck. "People are shitty sometimes," is his frowning answer to Anette's explanation, though his frown soon eases into a warm smile. "-- but sometimes awesome. You know Aly's said she's going to cook. Like real actual food? Anyway, Flicker's used to seeing /me/ without clothes I think the presence of breasts kind of threw him though." He glances off after Anette, and then back to the game. "-- If she's not back in time I am totally taking on the winner. -- Sorry, Aly, my money's on Micah this round. He's getting all /competitive/ at you." Alyssa swipes but misses; the puck goes clattering into her goal to the tune of a cheerful, "Damn!" before she leans down to fish it out. "It was only //half// nudist on my part, I didn't //mean// to, I, uh. Was living on my own for a while-," totally a valid excuse. "I promised I'd try to at least remember shirts, like, maybe seventy-five percent of the time," comes over the clack-clack clink of the puck being batted around the table again; she doesn't say anything again for a //while// after that, though, her attention fiercely concentrated on the game. Which is //close//, man, it manages to be //close// -- but Dusk ends up playing Micah ... then Aly again ... then -- eventually, air hockey ends; eventually, everyone actually makes it back //home//. | |
