ArchivedLogs:Errands

Errands
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Kaylynn, Lucien, Teague
In Absentia	2015-11-17 "{You ...are not ...of consequence ...to me.}" (zombie plot.)
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. The street right now isn't -- /exactly/ quiet. It's quiet in that way New York is getting used to being quiet -- a trio of people whizz by down the street eschewing noisier vehicles for bicycles, a mother hustles her two children very /quickly/ past a boarded-over shopfront where a thumping is coming from behind, a couple hurry across the street talking in hushed Chinese. In an upper story of an apartment somewhere there is a yell, a crash: one person below looks up, most people grit their teeth, ignore it, hurry on faster to their days. Some stores have signs posted in their windows: ENGLISH, with a typical red crossed-out NO symbol over it. Some stores are closed altogether. The ones that are open are still seeing business, more or less, though when their doors open and close they do so with some level of care. Somewhere around a nearby side street there is a familiar rattling groan. A hiss. A thud. Lucien does not look particularly dressed for the apocalypse when he slips around the corner -- his dark trousers are neatly tailored, his silvery-grey button-down crisply ironed, his peacoat cut elegantly to his form. The shadowed-eyed exhaustion in his pale expression, though, /that/ is recognizable enough. He has a long knife sheathed at one hip; a compound bow and quiver of arrows slung across his back. Not holding either at the moment, though; in his hands, only a pair of canvas shopping bags and a cellphone. He stops at the doors of one pharmacy, brows furrowing as he examines its sign -- the NO MUTANTS ALLOWED that is posted underneath its NO ENGLISH looks older, more weathered; /that's/ probably been there since long before the outbreak. Flicker doesn't arrive with any footsteps to warn of him. A quiet rush of air, a blur of motion too fast to track somewhere in the periphery of Lucien's vision; he's coming down off a nearby roof in a shimmer of rapid jumps, landing lightly alongside the other man. There are several bags slung diagonally across his body; at the moment, he only /has/ one arm, his other not currently strapped on. The empty sleeve of his corduroy jacket is tucked up and folded against his side to keep it out of the way. The only hand he has /is/ occupied with Weapon, a long crowbar that now he rests against his shoulder. "{I won't tell if you don't.}" Though he wears a rather similar exhaustion in his heavily scarred face, his voice is amused as he looks over the signs. Teague's phone pings again as he scrolls through the New York City Ballet's most recent social media update, announcing their new replacement soloists in lieu of the recent crisis. The sultry-eyed young dancer hardly reacts at his own headshot before closing the app. He slides his iPhone back into the front pocket of his thin, black zip-up hoodie. He's wearing expensive black sweats tucked into similarly colored UGG boots and his hair pulled back into a tight topknot. A gym bag rests on the teen's hip, out from which protrude the duct-tape wrapped hilt of what is presumably a sword and a pair of nude-colored pointe shoes. Inside the pharmacy, Teague struggles to open one of the nearly empty refrigerated display units. He pulls out a ginger tea and turns it over to read the label as if it's any other day. In his hands, he greedily holds four of the last worn packets of ace bandages. The broken windows of Kaylynn's shop have been boarded up with large planks, but the place isn't entirely closed it seems. A tiny sign in the corner of the door way reads "Open for Emergencies", though it's only a few of her customers that know what that means. Still, there are a few things even she needs and so, after a very slow journey through shadows, the chocolatier steps into the pharmacy. She's in a pair of pants a shirt that's clearly seen better days. Her weapons of choice are a pair of pistols strapped in holsters and though her fingers tap on them nervously every so often, she's yet to draw them. Instead she purses her lips and begins looking toward the shelves. The woman's gaze flicks from right to left before she finally moves towards the edge of the store, though it isn't quite clear what she's looking for. There's an instant snap of tension through Lucien at the sudden /presence/ beside him on the sidewalk -- by the time Flicker is /talking/ his knife is in his hand, his weight dropping back into a defensive stance as he hefts it. He hasn't actually relaxed all that /much/ when he straightens, shifting back out of the way of the doorway to let Kaylynn pass them by and step into the store. "{Jesus Christ. You could give a man a heart attack with that, these days.}" His jaw has clenched up hard, hand gripping his knife tightly and his gaze not quite leaving Flicker even as he moves to rest a hand on the door handle and push it open. "{... I would think under current circumstances, two arms would be more convenient than one.}" The flash of a drawn knife prompts unfortunately swift response from Flicker. Almost as soon as it's /in/ Lucien's hand, his crowbar is whipping down and in. Cracking down hard towards Lucien's wrist. "{/Watch/ it.}" Snapped sharply, just before he ducks into the store. "{A lot more convenient. Inconveniently, my other one's toast. Along with the rest of my house last night.}" At the back of the small store, visible by way of the center aisle, a man in what remains of a disheveled suit approached Teague. Speaking in broken Spanish that the teen doesn't understand, the man demands some of his ace bandages. As the man gestures emphatically and a little too aggressively, Teague daintily side-steps just out of reach. "{Do not comprehend.}" He answers breathily in broken French of his own. Knitting his brow, he holds his perspective purchases closer to his chest. One track-minded as she is sometimes, it takes Kaylynn going several feet before she registers something. There's a brief turn and a glance over her shoulder before eyes alight on two somewhat familiar faces "{Aha, I thought I heard a voice I recognized}." Her usual Southern lilt is hidden as she speaks Russian, but even if the words don't translate the faint smile and tip of her head in their direction might do. The commotion near the back draws her attention and both of the chocolatier's brows wrinkle. Her fingers lightly brush against her pistols once more before she shakes her head, "{Relax, gotta relax.}" Lucien sucks in a sharp breath, knife clattering to the ground as the smack of crowbar is met with a crack of bone. "... hk --" His teeth have gritted, his hand twitching at his side, but despite the tense of his muscles he /doesn't/ follow through on the twitchy impulse his arm is evidently /feeling/ to take a swing at Flicker. He stoops, picking his knife back up -- very slowly -- and sheathing it while still crouched before he rises to follow the other man into the store. His hand clamps down around Flicker's wrist as he passes. His touch comes with an almost immediate sense of calm -- this is followed, much more slowly, by a steady /reorganizing/ of the other man's mind. Gradually pushing back the effects of illness, introducing order into the aggression, helping set impulse checks back in place. "{I don't speak Russian.}" Matter-of-fact, if a little tired. His eyes have drifted past Kaylynn and Flicker to where Teague is being harangued. Teague's response just gets a small twitch of lips. "{Fairly sure you do.}" His own words have switched here from Spanish to a Quebecois-flavoured French, mild and faintly wry. And then Spanish again, to Flicker: "{Your, ah, /house/.}" Flicker is starting to tug away from Lucien's touch -- but then relaxes and permits it, his wired tense posture easing. "{Yeah. Kind of a -- Incident. Last night. Burned down. Things aren't -- great.}" Though despite this a quick smile skims across his face when he sees Kaylynn. Warm. Bright. "{You're alive. Good.}" He /doesn't/ understand Teague or Lucien's French, though even without the Spanish the gesticulating and Teague's body language likely makes the exchange clear enough. His lips twist slightly to one side, brow furrowing. A small twitch of his wrist points the crowbar in Teague's direction. "{... Oh. Those bandages. I need some of...}" He trails off here, though. Looks up at Lucien with a startled look, a widening of eyes. "... thanks." Breathless and a little incredulous. The gratitude comes with a sharp /flare/ in his mind that Lucien can likely feel all too clearly. Strong surge of short-circuited mindless aggression that, thankfully, is currently being held in check; instead it just puts a briefly glazed look on his expression. "{Thanks,}" he repeats himself when his mind has cleared. "{I /took/ the cure. Doesn't work half. This well.}" Looking from Lucien and his friends back to his aggressor with the smallest smile of acknowledgement at the Quebecois-flavored remark, Teague takes another step away from the confrontation, "{You ...are not ...of consequence ...to me.}" He explains to the man who cannot understand him. His condescending tone could transcend most language barriers, though. The teen saddles on past, cradling his loot in his arm as he casually turns open the lid to his ginger tea. That's about the moment when he's grabbed, and tossed like a rag doll. Teague silently grits his teeth as he opens both arms, stumbling back into a standing display rack of off-brand greeting cards. Ace bandages, greeting cards, and the open bottle of tea spill out into the aisle. "{Ah...of course not..}" Kaylynn's lips press together momentarily before her Russian switches to what can only be called a lame attempt at using her 2 years of high school spanish. "{Can't speak well. Understand a little.}" The string of words makes even the chocolatier cringe. Apparently even coming from a town where Spanish is almost on par with English doesn't help one bit. There's a softer smile for Flicker then and she'll shoot him a wink as well as a nod. /Hard to kill!. A curious glance is shot towards his arm, but something else grabs her attention for a moment. Her nose twitches slightly then, gaze moving towards Teague just in time to see him flying. Her index finger and thumb make a circle as if to ask whether he's ok, but soon she's switching back to a rather nasty sounding stream of Russian words directed towards the man who did the tossing. Something about decency, dangerous behavior, and his mother's evolutionary origins. "{Burned down. My goodness.}" There's a mild note of surprise in Lucien's tone, his brows shifting upward. "{I suppose at the moment there are /several/ powder kegs just waiting --}" But his brows lift higher at Teague's response. There's a faint twitch of his lips, upward as well into an almost amused smirk. His head just shakes, a soft scoff of breath exhaled at Kaylynn's string of invective. His hand drops away from Flicker's arm. "{It will wear off soon. Enjoy the clarity while you have it.}" With a small pat to the teleporter's shoulder, /he's/ sidestepping around the spilled greeting cards, stooping to pluck the dropped ace bandages from the floor. "{You needed these?}" He's tossing two of them in Flicker's direction, meandering back away from the messy scene as he keeps the other two tucked beneath his arm. Somewhat /exasperated/, Flicker holsters his crowbar behind his back in order to blip forward and snag the /pair/ of packages just tossed to him. Admittedly, tossing them at a one-armed man with no free hands -- proves slightly less ridiculous than it would in other cases; as fast as he moves, he's snagged the second one out of the air just before it hits the ground. Not that that stops the 'are you kidding me?' look he gives Lucien. No translation required. He eyes the bandages, then eyes Teague. Then the angry man who had shoved Teague. Takes a cautious step back from all of them. Collecting himself, Teague cocks his head indignantly as his bandages are looted. Hand already on the hilt of his sword, he gives his attacker a look of warning that makes the man hesitate to take part in any of it, however. The two inch only fractionally closer to one another before the man breaks away, throwing up his hands violently as he makes to break through the small cluster of onlookers. Bold enough to make a hard step of provocation at Kaylynn as he exits the pharmacy, but neither of the other men. When he leaves, Teague kneels to lift up the bottle tea first to stop it from spilling any further. In what can only be called an immature move, Kaylynn turns to look at the departing man before promptly sticking her tongue out at his back. There's a little sigh from the chocolatier before she nods at the little group and then moves back towards the shelves. Among the prizes she claims are a pack of dixie cups and pill cases. Lucien lifts his hand, turning it up and outwards in a helpless gesture in answer to Flicker's look. Only SLIGHTLY up and outwards, though. He's holding it a little STIFFLY because SOMEONE who will not be named broke his wrist. He is, perhaps, unapologetic about throwing things to Flicker. Quiet, he slips off into the aisles, disappearing down a very barren row of pain relievers in hopeful and perhaps futile quest. Flicker's shoulder sags. He looks down at the bandages in his arms, then over at Teague. With a grimace and a very small wince, he sets one of the two bandages down on a nearby shelf beside Teague, head bowing as he heads off towards the first aid section himself. Holding up a hand flatly, Teague gently refuses the kind gesture from Flicker before the man leaves. "{You are a friend of Dusk.}" The name at least, is not spoken in French. The boy only keeps one box of bandages for himself. With the slightest upturned nod of his chin, and a shifting of the weight of his gym bag, he slips out of the pharmacy without paying. Because it's the end of days.