ArchivedLogs:Elastic Collisions

Elastic Collisions
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Tag, Anole
In Absentia	2013-01-21 One collision and a couple of near-misses.
Location <NYC> Chinatown
One of New York's oldest neighborhoods and the oldest Chinese enclave outside of Asia, Chinatown is a vibrant ethnic community, which draws throngs of tourists annually as well. This neighborhood is packed with Chinese-owned businesses, from restaurants to groceries to theaters to fashion. It is bitterly cold, even in the heart of Manhattan. The bustle of Canal street is not so easily chilled, however, and the throngs of commuters, shoppers, tourists, and street vendors carry on with shoulders hunched beneath layers of warm-weather garb. A young man emerges furtively from a tiny Buddhist shrine, and though he has taken pains to look plain, the observant can still recognize Tag. His hair, long now and partially covering his eyes, is dark purple, and his hands thrust deep into the pockets of a threadbare black peacoat. He runs across the street without looking and very nearly ends up under a grocery truck, whose driver hurls a profanity in Cantonese before peeling off again. Stepping through Canal street, heavy winter jacket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Iolaus steps in a pace too fast to be a tourist. He pulls out a phone and glances at the screen, frowning at the time. "Fuck it." he murmurs to himself, looking up just in time to see someone nearly end up underneath a truck. "Are you alright?" he asks, pocketing his phone and hurriedly stepping over towards Tag's side. Despite him clearly not being underneath the truck, the doctor's eyes still flick up and down the other man, checking him over for any obvious signs of trauma. Like... getting hit by a truck. Nope. Victor has been watching, too, from a perch up on a dumpster in a small alleyway; he's not particularly noticeable himself, largely blending in to the metal dumpster and brick wall he sits on, but as he hops down his clothing and skin revert to their usual state -- a tatty grey coat bulky enough he's likely wearing it over several layers, dark jeans, black cap somewhat misshapenly lumpy on his head. He is hurrying out of his alley just as Iolaus is hurrying towards Tag, and perhaps he too is focused on the near-accident or perhaps just not looking where he is going because he /does/ collide with Iolaus, a full-on thudding tangle of limb that leaves the small teenager flustered and instantly apologetic even as he is apparently trying to save Iolaus from a subsequent topple to the ground. "Oh! Oh, gosh. I'm sorry, sir, I -- oh no. Were /you/ hurt?" He's looking between Iolaus and Tag as he brushes himself off, brushes Iolaus off, looks flustered some more. "Sorry, I didn't mean to -- sorry. Sir. Sirs. Sir." Tag blinks at Iolaus, then at Victor, momentarily looking as as though he might seriously consider bolting back out into traffic. This passes quickly, though, and he smiles. "I'm fine! Are /you guys/ okay?" he asks. "People colliding with people is usually less bad than people colliding with trucks, but you never know." His dark brown eyes flick left and right, scanning the faces on the street. "Well, have a good evening, and a happy MLK Day. I should probably...get going." This last he says while shuffling away, though not without another long look at Iolaus. "Actually...do I know you from somewhere, Sir?" Iolaus makes a gackt noise as he is hit from the other side, stumbling but managing to not fall down, without grabbing onto Victor's hands. He glances over the teenager's face for a moment, then shrugs. "No harm done," he says, brushing himself off, hands smoothing down the sides of his jacket. "No worries." he shrugs once, then gives a wave of his hand, dismissive. "Don't worry about it." He gives Victor a brief smile, then turns his attention back to the not-road-pizza man standing next to him. His eyes flick over the other man's face and he nods, slowly, a furrow working its way onto his brow. "Yes...." he pauses, teeth working briefly at his bottom lip. Suddenly, he grins and snaps his fingers. "Tie-dye!" A beat. "Jax's friend, yeah? We met at a cafe, I think." Victor ducks his head sheepishly, hands tucking immediately into his own pockets as he mumbles another quiet apology, seemingly trying to hide his very green face among the high collar of his jacket as a passerby glares at him. "Yeah, I'm fine. I didn't. That car almost got you." He's frowning at Tag as he shifts his weight onto a back foot, but then his lips quirk. A little. "Nice hair." The spark of recollection finally catches behind Tag's eyes, and his smile flares wider. "Oh, you're the doctor!" he exclaims. "I mean, not /the/ Doctor, but you know... Um, nice to see you again!" Then, looking at the teen, shrugs. "Thanks for the concerns, but you know they they say 'close' only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," he frowns a little, "though I'm not really sure what horseshoes have to do with anything. Thanks!" He pauses for a beat. "Wait...is it /not/ black?" He looks up at the hair dangling into his eyes and groans. About then, he catches sight of something out of the corner of his eyes, and any concern about the shade of his hair vanishes from his face. "Oh, crap...hide me, please!" he whispers this urgently to his two companions even while he eyed the alleyway from which Victor had emerged. Iolaus chuckles. "No phone booths in New York City these days, sorry." he says, the corners of his lips crinkling up into a small smile. At the other man's urgent whisper, his eyebrows raise slightly, but he steps in front of the other man in the direction that he had glanced, and begins ushering him towards the alleyway that he is looking at. "Nooo, it's kinda an awesome purple," Anole is saying, with a little bit of confusion at Tag's evident lack of knowledge on the subject of his own hair. He is backing away, shy and a little awkward, until Tag's urgent whisper. His green eyes flick in the direction Tag has looked, and flick towards Iolaus, too, with no small amount of worry. He bites down on his lip, hesitating a moment, but then curls a hand around Tag's, tugging the other man along with him into the alley with a quiet, "C'mon." Though it's visible enough from the street to passersby, he doesn't /go/ far. Just back into its mouth, between the pair of dumpsters he had been perching on earlier, and pulls Tag along with him as he leans back against the wall. And, promptly, fades from view -- or near enough, not invisible but with skin and clothes shifting to match the brick neatly enough to be quite easily overlooked. With one hand still on Tag, colour spreads through the other man to match, camouflaging him, as well. Anole is still watching the street, though, passersby and Iolaus given equal measures of wariness. "Sorry. Uh. Are you in trouble?" he is asking Tag, quieter. Staring at his own skin and clothes for a moment, Tag looks back at the youngster. Even his eyes struggle to see through the disguise. "Wow!" he whispers. "That is...amazing! I'm, yeah, I guess I am, a bit? I came down to see my little sister. It was supposed to be secret, but I think the brat went and tattled to Dad, so now he's looking for me." He dares not peek back out at the street. A middle-aged Chinese man in a suit and overcoat, no scarf or hate, has jogged across the street and looks suddenly peeved. He approaches Iolaus. "Begging your pardon," the man says, enunciating clearly despite heavy Mandarin accent. "Did you see a person pass by with /purple/ hair?" Iolaus' eyes widen as the two men vanish in front of his eyes. He turns around as he's addressed, giving the other man a surprised look. "I'm sorry? Purple... oh." He frowns, thoughtfully. "In a peacoat, right? I think I saw him head down towards the subway," he says, pointing down the block. "Good luck!" he says. He waits until the other man is gone and out of sight before turning back around, looking up and down the alleyway for the invisible people. "Your dad?" This is all Anole says, initially, watching the exchange by the mouth of the alley in silence. He only answers once Iolaus is through talking, giving Tag a longer looking over. "But. Your dad. Why would you -- doesn't he -- is that /bad/?" He hasn't moved from his lean against the wall by the dumpster. Brick-coloured eyes blink at Iolaus. "S'he gone?" "Well, he /did/ kick me out of his house," Tag replies with surprising nonchalance, "but I guess he regretted that later. The problem is, he works for some real bad people, and I don't want to get mixed up with them. Neither do you." He looks down at his hand again, turning it over. "Is this an illusion, or what?" Then, to Iolaus. "We're here! Look more closely!" "He's gone." Iolaus says, narrowing his eyes as he squints at the wall. The movement gives him something to focus on, and he grins. "That's very, very cool." he says, eyes tracing the outline of the two men's bodies against the brick wall. "That's wicked sweet." his smile widens and he glances once more around. "The coast is clear and all that." A pause, and he gives the two of them a bemused look. "Can you make anything any colors, or is it just turning invisible?" "Kick you out? Why? Er. Sorry. That's not really my -- sorry. You can't just be his kid without getting mixed up with them?" Victor drops Tag's hand, the other man's skin and clothes fading back to normal once he lets go. His follow a moment later, drab clothing and green skin replacing the dirty-brick hues. His green cheeks flush a little darker at the compliments, his head ducking. "No, it's not -- an illusion. It's not -- I can't change anything. Only things I'm touching. And not any colours. I don't actually think about it much it just -- just blends in. With wherever I am." Tag rubs his chin, the stubble there so fine and light that few would notice it existed at all, much less that it was purple like his hair and eyebrows. "It's kind of hard to not get dragged into the kind of business my dad's boss does," he says. "They help you out. It's hard to say no, because who doesn't need help sometimes, right? But then you owe them..." He shrugs, and the smile returns to his face. "That's why I'm steering clear of him and you helped me. I'd much rather owe /you/--both of you--than them!" Then, to Victor, "My name is Tag, by the way, and I /can/ turn things colors." As he speaks, his peacoat fades from black to gray. "But I can't do what you do! It would take me /forever/ to tweak something until it blended in, and then the moment it moved it'd be all wrong again." Even though he can't have been not expecting it, Iolaus' eyes still widen as the other two men fade into view, and he still looks a little bit surprised at their presence. He murmurs something under his breath in Greek - 'Fucking cool' - and grins. "And I'm Iolaus." he says, reaching into his jacket to pull out... something. He frowns, glancing down, and he pats down first one, then systematically the rest of his pockets. "And I had some business cards, but apparently, not anymore..." he trails off, a concerned look on his face. "Ah, fuck." "Woah," Victor says, quietly, "that's /neat/, can /you/ do anything? Any colours?" He looks at the wall, resting a hand against it as the brick pattern trickles back up his fingers, though his hand fades back to green around the wrist. "It'd probably be harder if I thought about it. It just kind of /happens/. I can choose /what/ to change but the pattern is -- it just matches. Um." He looks away as Iolaus pats his jacket, frowning at the doctor. "You lose something?" "Any color you like," Tag says, grinning. "Or any color I know about, anyway, which is a lot. Things just happening is...not an uncommon experience for me. I bet we can teach each other some neat tricks." He tilts his head at Iolaus. "I think I still have your card, but it's probably lost amongst the gazillion cards and applications I've been collecting. Did someone lift your wallet?" "Yeah, looks like it." Iolaus says, frowning as he checks his pockets over once more. "Must have. I had it when I got off the subway, because I had to load more money onto the Metrocard..." he trails off, shaking his head once. "Damn. Well, shit. What did I have in it?" he murmurs, looking upwards. "Oh, damn. My goddamn license was in there. That's going to be annoying as hell to replace." he sighs, giving the two men a wry look. "Which one of you wants to buy me a cab ride home?" he jokes. "That's really cool," Victor says with a slight smile to Tag, but he is shiiifting back, his weight sliding onto his rear foot despite the fact that the alley dead /ends/ and there is nowhere, actually, to go that direction. "That sucks, man," he says, with a deeper frown, tugging his coat firmer around himself. He looks down at his clothes, ragged pants, ragged coat, shoes barely keeping their soles on, and shrugs uncomfortably. "Cabs are expensive," he says, awkwardly apologetic. "Actually," Tag says, a bit hesitantly, "I'm usually pretty broke, but my little sis did give me some money." He fishes out his wallet, which is canvas and decorated with a simple blocky rainbow pattern, instantly recognizable to many as an emblem of LGBT Pride. "Not sure where you need to get to. Think a twenty'll cover it?" He asks sheepishly. Iolaus waves his hand, chuckling. "Don't worry about it." he says, pulling his cellphone from his pocket. "I'll get someone to give me a ride. Not a worry." he says, fingers sliding over the surface of the screen as he texts... someone. His eyes fall on the wallet and he smiles a little bit at the rainbow. "How's Jax?" he says, voice lightly teasing. Anole's head dips as Tag takes his wallet out, looking at the rainbow canvas a long moment, his forehead wrinkling in a deeper frown. His eyes dart between Tag and Iolaus, his teeth sinking against his lip. "I um --" He starts, but doesn't finish. Instead he dips his hand somewhere into the many layers of clothing he wears, extracting a black wallet from inside it and /shoving/ it back towards Iolaus even as he is muttering an apology and scurrying back -- away. The fact that the alley has no exit doesn't seem to /stop/ him, climbing straight up a smooth wall to grab on to the fire escape one floor up and hoist himself -- presumably up further. It's hard to track much past that, the boy vanishing against the building wall, though there's still flashes of movement and the sound of sneakers on the shaky metal. "I went to a game night with him last week," Tag replies, brightening. "He's a really good cook..." He trails off when the boy returns Iolaus's wallet to him and flees. "I /could/ probably follow him, but that would probably just spook him," he says, wrinkling his brows. His hair starts turning electric blue from the bottom up. "Hopefully I'll run into him again, though. He seems like he could use a friend." He look at Iolaus. "You think your friend can make it?" Iolaus calls after Anole, even as he looks down at his wallet in surprise. "Wait, come back! It's OK!" he calls, watching him as best he can as the teenager vanishes into the wall. He sighs and looks down at his wallet. "Yeah, well, I don't think it'll be needed, now." he says, eyes casting back upwards. He shakes his head, once. "Hopefully, you do. If you do, give him my card," he says, reaching into his wallet and pulling another one out. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Will you? Or do you want a ride out of here? I can't think of a safer place to be than with my ride." "I would take the subway, but Dad might still be milling about down there," Tag says, sticking out his tongue. "But it's really not a long walk home, and I might find somewhere to apply on my way. Thanks, though!" He smiles, and starts out toward the street, then stops. "One thing, Iolaus..." Turning around, he tucks his hands under his arms, hugging himself. "What /kind/ of doctor are you? I mean...do you operate on people?" "No problem." Iolaus says, with a smile. He shrugs his shoulders once, looking at the other man. "No, I don't operate on people. I'm a geneticist. I help people who have complicated illnesses, or genetic illnesses that might cause them or their children to have problems, like Cystic Fibrosis." He pauses for a moment, a twinkle in his eyes. "I'm also opening a clinic to help mutants get medical care for their own specialized needs... but that's a way off. Longer, now, I suspect, considering our new President." He rests his right hand briefly over his heart, lips pursing in annoyance. Tag nods solemnly, but then smiles again. "I was just curious. Good luck setting up your clinic. If you need help...decorating, let me know. I'm cheaper and faster than paint." He shrugs. "I was also pre-med, and maybe I'll go to nursing school someday. Probably not, though." Rubbing his hands together briskly, he almost turns to go, but changes his mind and gives Iolaus a quick hug before taking off down the street as recklessly as he came. Iolaus hugs the other man back, grinning. "Let me know when you are doing your nursing rotations. Hopefully we'll be open by then." he says, smiling. "Be safe." With that, he watches the other man leaves, then sets off much calmer for a cafe to await his ride.