ArchivedLogs:Employment Plans

Employment Plans
Dramatis Personae Daniel Ketch, Jax	2015-02-03 "Completely human, 'cept when I'm not."
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to plentiful artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. It's relatively Quiet at Evolve, either it's the miserable weather or it being a Tuesday evening that's keeping people indoors. Those who are out have either grouped up or claimed an armchair for themselves to catch up on reading or conversation before the party crowd sets in. Daniel Ketch has found himself among those in line, his attention drifting between the menu and various faces about the cafe. He's more dressed up than most would be accustomed to seeing him, his leather jacket has been replaces with a pea coat, and he's even rocking a scarf and newsboy cap. Jax is a little bit flushed as he bursts into Evolve, kind of hastily, stomping snow off his boots by the door before proceeding in. He's bundled sure enough -- shiny metallic-silver jacket and tall stompy silver boots, rainbow scarf wound around and around his neck, black crushed-velvet skirt worn over silver-and-blue mermaid-scale patterned leggings. Huge mirror-lensed sunglasses. Metallic blue makeup. Black mittens and hat with shimmery silver woven in. He's still red cheeked from the cold, scrubbing a hand against his face as though that will help as he -- doesn't actually get into line. He just trots past it towards the counter, a large box tucked beneath one arm that he sets atop. "Special delivery." His heavily-accented words are caroled kind of brightly singsong as he taps at the box, nodding to the barista. "Gosh but s'quiet. Was quiet yesterday too. Which is good," he leaves his box on the counter to take a step back, not really getting in line but not /cutting/ the line either, "cuz I'm gonna have a giant order for you." Presumably after she finishes with the people already waiting. Daniel watches Jax enter, though his attention is soon back on the person ahead of him in line. Soon enough it's his turn to order, "Hey. Just a black coffee, please." Then his attention drifts back over towards Jax and a name seems to click for the face. "Jax, right?" he calls over shorty after paying and stepping out of the line. Jax is just tucking stray wisps of (blue and green) hair back behind his ears from where it sticks out beneath his cap. Bouncing on his toes a little restlessly as he looks over a list on his phone. He glances up quickly at the sound of his name, eyebrows lifting from behind his sunglasses. "Hmwhat? Me? Yeah?" He doesn't sound particularly surprised at being recognized, though there's not just now any recognition in his own face -- admittedly the huge glasses hide much of his expression. "Hihi." His tone is friendly enough regardless. "'kai help you?" "We met before. Name's Danny, Danny Ketch." Daniel fills in with a slight shrug. "Pretty sure you're one of the ones that helped me find a job before I left for a bit. Anyway, was wondering if you guys needed any help over at the clinic. Was about to head over and ask about it. Janitor, guard, whatever. Should hear back from the affairs office soon enough, if you guys needed people to be registered." "Oh! Oh, hi. Hi. Um -- oh, gosh. Uh --" Jax's brow furrows uncertainly. "Hang on can you give me a second?" He holds up a finger apologetically, turning aside so that he can deliver his /phone/ to the barista, with a long list of Order pulled up on the notepad on the screen. His brow is still a little furrowed when he finishes talking to the barista and gets back to Daniel, teeth worrying at a lip ring. "We're hirin' in a couple departments, though you'll hafta go in the mornin', the HR department's only open durin' standard business hours so it's already closed for the night. We don't require that folks is registered, though, no. Not -- as such." "Fair enough. Mainly registered so I could get the permits I need. Though, I have a feeling I might not be able to once I get that handy dandy card." Danny says after a moment, bringing the mug in his gloved hand up to his lips. "I'll be sure to head that way tomorrow. Any work is good work, so long as it don't hurt anybody. Sure worth it to have a little cash and not have to squat." "I don't know a single registered mutant yet not on the Freak Squad that's got a firearms license," Jax admits, "though they ain't taken 'em /away/ from us yet as had 'em afore registration cropped up. Not for guardin' neither. But I don't know if they have restrictions on givin' security licences t'registered folks /now/. Guess there ain't much for it but waitin' an' seein'. -- Y'still ain't got no steady place t'stay?" This question comes with a small wince. "Got a room. Digs ain't the best, but they beat the hell out of a warehouse or shelter, especially with this weather." Daniel doesn't seem to really mind. "And they shouldn't consider me too much of a threat. I'm only really active once or so a day for an hour. Completely human, 'cept when I'm not." "Active?" Jax's brows furrow again. "What?" He looks utterly confused at this, looking over Daniel uncertainly. "I mean, it'll be hard to work if you're only -- wait, you mean your /mutation/?" Daniel nods slightly. "Yeah. Transformation, can be a bit of a pain in the ass. Only real downside to it, is the fact it takes me a bit to remember what I did while the Rider is in control." He pauses a moment, taking another sip of coffee, before settling his full attention on Jax. "With my luck they'll chip me, or somethin' like that." "The Rider?" This isn't helping Jax's confusion whatsoever. ".../Who/ would chip you?" Now he's looking faintly concerned. "I mean, that ain't a thing we do t'... our employees." "Nah, the government. And, that's what I call me after the transformation. Because I'm in the back seat for most of it." Daniel explains with a slight roll of his wrist. "Micah has saw the transformation up close on Halloween, and that Ion fella he was talkin' to ran into him again last night. He was out picking fights with bigots when I showed up." Jax's brow is still kind of furrowed. His knuckles rub against his cheek, his weight shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I don't -- think," he says, slow and a little discomfited, "that the government is -- chippin'. People. Who register." His teeth presses down against his lip, hand falling to wrap around his chest. "Bigots don't tend t'make that hard. Daniel lifts his shoulders in a slight shrug. "Suppose that's just something I'm worried about then." He brings a hand up to rub at the hair on his cheek, "Doubt I'm the only one that's worried I'll end up a weapon though."" Jax's uncomfortable fidgeting returns, his shoulders slightly tensed. "I doubt you're the only one /worried/, I just don't think -- that that's. A thing they're -- doin'. 'least I know a /lot/ of plenty-dangerous folk who --" His head shakes quickly. "I think a lot of us have that worry. Kind of just have to learn how to manage yourself." "I don't think about it too much. It'll be what it'll be." Daniel let's his attention drift back over the various people gathered once more. "Anyway, hope you've been well? "Wait, what?" Jax overlooks this last question, too much alarmed by the first. "That's -- m'sorry, but that's just totally irresponsible." His brows have furrowed back inwards. "I don't get it. On the one hand worried you're too much a weapon but on the other 'I don't think about it'? 'It'll be what it'll be'? That's what gets people /dead/. I -- hope I'm mistakin' your meaning." His teeth have pressed against his lip again, tone sliding back to uncertain. "I mean, I don't like to focus on the negative, especially when it's not very likely to happen. Don't even think it'd be possible to make me fight for them. Don't even think I have a brain when I transform." Daniel attempts to explain, shifting a bit. "If they could, they'd only have about thirty minutes of me being useful, before I turned back into a disoriented me. I'd die before I could hurt anybody." "Okay. Okay." Jax's frown smoothes out somewhat, though his teeth still toy briefly with his lip ring. "So the rest'a the time, when y'ain't transformed, you're pretty much jus' standard-human?" His head tilts uncertainly at this. Daniel nods slightly. "No fire, no healing, getting shot hurts, and I definitely can't lift a car. Completely normal when I'm not transformed. And the transformation hurts like a mother fucker." "Hm." Jax's lips purse, thoughtful. He steps up to the counter to reclaim his phone from the barista, his order evidently mostly done by now. "Prob'ly security ain't the best'a departments anyway, then. We actually /only/ hire folks whose abilities are directly useful in guardin'." His smile crooks a little bit lopsided. "Which is hilarious, honestly, because they've tried a couple times t'come at us for discrimination, since we flat-out /don't/ hire humans? Only but if they came down on us for it for serious they'd have to change the law t'make genetic status a protected class an' that means employment non-discrimination protection for mutants. So they keep lettin' it slide. I really /want/ someone t'take us to court, though. An' win." He sounds almost gleeful, like he genuinely hopes this happens. "But s'possible there's maintenance or administrative jobs open. I don't really know what your experience background is." "I can fix motorcycles, scrap, and shoot. That's really about it." Daniel admits. "Spent a lot of the time trying to figure out how to keep a handle on my mutation, so I didn't end up killing people." He doesn't quite look Jax's way when he says that, hand rubbing at his neck. "Last thing I need is to come back around to find out I hit three men with a dumpster, or put somebody through their windshield." "Hmm," again, Jax rocking uncertainly from heel to toe. His head tips downward, a small acknowledging nod. "Yeah. Some things -- if you lose control, it can be --" He shivers, shaking his head. His smile returns as his order starts to get stacked on the counter; he moves over, pulling a reusable shopping back from his pocket to start filling it up. "I gotta get home. But we open at eight t'morrow mornin'. All the medical departments close at seven, but the administrative's only there from eight t'five, so if y'want t'talk t'H.R. or grab an application y'should check in afore then." Daniel taps out a salute. "Thanks, plan on it." Then he's turning to head out himself, pausing at the door only long enough to adjust his cap before braving the cold once again.