ArchivedLogs:Free Coffee

Free Coffee
Dramatis Personae Eric, Shane, Inès, Taylor	2014-07-16 '
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 a quiet morning around Evolve, well after the pre-work morning rush but not into lunch hour yet. Shane is gearing /up/ for lunch hour, though, just finished refreshing the offerings in the display case and now he's restocking the fridge near the counter. New juice bottles, new water bottles, new sodas -- no Pepsi or Coke here, just the fresh natural hippie kind, Spindrift fruit sodas and Reed's ginger beer and Maine Root root beer and ginger ale with real ginger settled into it. He's dressed in his usual fashion, pale grey pinstriped trousers and matching vest over a salmon-pink button down, neatly polished Oxfords, bow tie. There are only a desultory few people scattered through the cafe, a pink-haired young man at a laptop near the front, Taylor with tentacles wrapped around himself reading a book over his bagel sandwich off near the back, a pair of girls chatting at a small table near Taylor's. Inès is behind the counter, just returning from busing a table to go tuck the dishes away in the kitchen before she returns to her cashier's post. The front door opens and shuts behind a short, brawny man who looks around the cafe with a skeptical expression. His brown hair is slicked back and damp, though his clothing - a loose t-shirt and a pair of exercise shorts - are dry despite the rain outside. Taylor gets a double-take, the man stopping only a few feet from the door as his eyes widen and take in the tentacled boy slower. He gets a wide berth as the man heads over towards to the counter, peering up at the menu. A few moments behind him are two other men, both taller and similarly clad in exercise clothing, though the rain was not nearly as forgiving for either of the two of them. "Well, if you had managed to cover the backcourt better, I wouldn't have had to keep trying for the trick shots!" One of the newcomers complains, and Eric - the other - snorts and shakes his head. "That's not how it works, Keeley. You have to actually complete the rally, or you just end up screwing up and faulting the service." These two men are dressed like the third, each in gym clothing - and Eric's companion in a NYPD t-shirt. Taylor doesn't even /seem/ to be looking over towards the newcomers, eyes focused down on his book, but the man's double-take is /anyway/ followed by a reflexive tightening of those massive tentacles as though he's trying to make them smaller, shrinking slightly into his chair as though trying to make /himself/ smaller. It's automatic; he doesn't actually look up from his page. Shane /does/ look up, glancing -- first towards Taylor but then towards the shorter of the men. A warm smile blossoms across his face, /broad/ and very (/very/!) full of sharp sharkteeth. "Morning, gentlemen." One webbed hand -- with very prominent sharp black claws -- lifts in a slow waggle of greeting. "First time here, sir?" His tone is almost chipper as he lifts his chin to the first man who entered. His eyes skip back to Eric for -- just a moment. A faint ripple of gills that whispers against his collar, a faint widening of his pitch-black eyes, but his sunny-toothy smile doesn't dim. The short man in the front glances down at Shane, mouth opening to speak, but as his eyes match the blue boy's black ones, he seems to run out of words to say. His mouth hangs open for a moment, then closes with a snap. He blinks, several times, before letting out a somewhat strangled, "Uh-yeah. I -- yeah." He looks backwards to Eric who quickly closes the gap to the counter, still bickering with his teammate. "He-- uh." The man looks down and then up, standing a little bit straighter. "Yes. My first time here." "Oh, shut up, Sutton, you little fuck. Don't forget, you lost to me like a little girl the last time we went mano-a-mano." Keeley says, shouldering Eric with a grin on his face, who responds with a light shove in turn as they approach the counter. "Heya, Shane." Eric says, raising a hand in greeting. Behind the counter, Inès is glancing briefly over towards Taylor, too. A moment later the tentacled boy relaxes, letting the thick extra limbs relax as well. One unwinds from around him, slipping its end around the handle of his coffee cup to lift it and knock back the rest. And then -- without actually getting up from his /chair/ -- stretches out (and out, and out, and out) to extend one tentacle halfway across the /room/ to deposit his empty cup back on the counter So Helpfully for Inès. It just /incidentally/ means the huge limb snakes over a very short distance from the men at the counter -- thick and rubbery-black with large suction cups (equipped with tiny serrated chitin-rings by way of /teeth/ and sharp hooks inside their centers) lining its inside. The coffee cup clinks quietly down on the countertop. Taylor's tentacle snakes back in to wind again around (and around and around) his torso. Inès picks up the empty cup without so much as a blink, turning around to refill it for Taylor. "Hi," she adds to the men as she sets the cup back /down/ on the counter. "Welcome to Evolve! What can I get you today?" "The citrus cookies and the white bean soup are both really good," Shane advises, tucking the last of the soda into the fridge and moving to roll his now-empty dolly back behind the counter and towards storage. He re-emerges, lifting his chin to Eric. Looking between Eric and his teammate's NYPD shirt. Back to Eric. "My dad's not here," he adds (oddly still /cheerfully/), "if you're looking for someone to arrest." The reeeeeeaching tentacle causes the short man to flinch - almost jump - to one side, away from it, eyes wide with surprise and not a small bit of fear. This causes both Eric and his teammate to burst out with laughter - though the teammate did eye the tentacle with some warInèss as it passed him. The Southerner's hand coming down on the shorter man's shoulder, once, twice. "Easy there, Cris." Eric says, amusement in his voice. "It's just Taylor. Hey there, Taylor." Eric says, glancing back over his shoulder, before he looks back at Shane. At the mention of arresting someone, Eric gets a quizzical look from the man standing next to him. "Jackson Holland," Eric explains. "MAD wanted to talk to him, so they got us to do their dirty work." All three of the men glower at 'MAD', and Eric shakes his head. "Nah. You know us cops, Shane. We can't go too long without gettin' a doughnut and a coffee." He says, lightly. The tentacle snakes out again, this time to claim the refilled coffee and cart it back to his table. A /different/ tentacle lifts to flick its tip in a wave towards Eric. "Yo." Taylor still doesn't actually look up, admittedly, but -- then again telepathy is often just as handy as eyeballs for tracking the goings-on in a room. "Only got glazed and powdered sugar," Shane replies, "but our coffee's fantastic. Inès can ring you up." His eyes flick over the gathered cops, curious as he slips over to scrub his hands clean at the sink. "So it's true then. Are you seriously all on the freak squad?" The short man scurries quickly out of the conversation and over to order with Inès, getting towards a more normal looking person. Eric and Keeley stay where they are, though, nodding at Shane. "Yeah. Freak squad proud." Keeley says, voice dry, and Eric shoulders him lightly. "Yeah. This is about a third of us. We've only got ten, eleven people in the squad, so far. Trying to get a few more, but." Eric shrugs his shoulders, glancing over at Cris before turning his eyes back on to Shane. "Ain't havin' many volunteers, even when the alternative is not being a cop anymore." "As far as I'm concerned, this is a promotion. No more walking the beat, dealing with shitty calls and ticketing people for littering." Keeley says, grinning playfully at Shane. "And I can actually talk about who I am, for once. Isn't that right, Cris, you freak?" Keeley earns a finger from Cris, who doesn't even turn to look as he pulls out money to pay. "So what do you ticket people for now?" There's a dryness to Shane's voice when he finishes washing his hands and turns back to the others, glancing at Inès's screen for Cris's order so that he can start prepping the coffee. "How long has your squad been a -- thing? You had any interesting calls yet?" His eyes slide over to the cafe's front door with a thoughtful press of lips. He shakes the thought away, giving Cris a lopsided grin when he finishes the drink to set the cup on the counter. "Probably a good idea to get used to stuff like the tentacles if this is gonna be your life now. Taylor gives /excellent/ hugs, you know." "Oh, week or two. Not too long; we've been tryin' to get everything together. Mostly been trainin' and paperwork for the last couple'a weeks. We just got cleared finally a couple days back, so it's been pretty quiet. Some minor stuff." Eric shakes his head, grinning. "We got called out t'a domestic when a lady broke a wine bottle over her husband's head and he wasn't hurt 'tall. Still, it's nice ta be back in the uniform and back on the streets." "He only likes the uniform because it makes it easier to pick up people," Keeley says, shouldering Eric and rolling his eyes. "Shut up, Keeley." Eric says, giving him a friendly glare. "Been so busy bailing your ass out of retirement that I'm 'bout ready to go and join the priesthood." Cris turns his eyes on Shane, voice carefully modulated to stay even. "Takes some getting used to. Until I got fired, no one even knew about me. It's... like being in a different world." He glances towards Taylor and shivers, once. "No thanks. I think I can do without the hugs." "I can imagine, sir." Shane leans against the counter once the coffee is done, black eyes flicking over the others. "Well, okay, no, I can't really, I was born like this. But it /is/ a whole different world it's probably -- not easy to just." "It's an adjustment," Inès offers lightly. "Being part of a new community always is. Being part of one that can --" She holds up a hand, fingers wiggling slightly as tiny blue-white sparks dance between her fingertips with a quiet crackling sound. Then fade away. "-- /That's/ probably adjustment even more." "You know," Shane says brightly, "hanging around here is a great place to get involved with the community. It's /like/ jumping into the deep end except we have delicious coffee and delicious cookies and holy crap the ice cream is to die for." His eyes slide back out to the windows, fixing on a pair of men that linger outside to peer in with open (wary) curiousity and then move on. "And," he adds shamelessly, "if this /happens/ to become a spot for cops to take their food breaks and it makes people think twice about giving us shit, /I/ won't mind." Cris takes his coffee and change and nods at Inès, though even this display of mutation causes him to give a wary look. "Thanks," he says, nodding once, curtly. He turns to quickly head over to a chair to sip at his coffee and very fixedly look at the - presumably /normal/ floor. Eric's eyes follow Shane's, and then he turns back to look at Shane. "Well, if you don't mind one of our trucks parked outside, and a bunch a' us hanging around at odd hours, I think that can be arranged. We don't have patrols, and... we don't exactly have an office at the station, ya know?" Eric's smile gets a little bit fixed. The floor is so normal! Grey resin cleaned and polished to a shine. It does not zap Cris with electricity or waggle any tentacles at him. Shane slips back around from behind the counter, leaving Inès to take Eric and Keeley's order. "Pfft, office. S'okay we got plenty of tables and free wi-fi. You'll get your coffees on the house," he offers, eyes still tracing back to the window before looking up at Eric, "but /only/ for the Freak Squad. Think it's going to be a long time yet before it'll be all that comfortable just having regular cops hanging around here." "Somehow, I don't think that there'll be a line a' cops at the door out front ta come and hang 'bout here, no matter how good your ice cream is, Shane." Eric grins at the blue boy affectionately, then turns to flash that same warm smile at Inès, leaning down onto the counter and ordering two coffees and a snack. Keeley turns his attention fully to the windows, looking out them with a tilt of his head. "You been having a lot of problems?" he asks Shane, curiously. "I'm surprised people would come to try and pick a fight in anything small enough to not cause the police to be called. This isn't exactly a fair fight unless the people come armed or some shit." "Nah. It's mostly been quiet. A fair amount of /heckling/. No violence. It's just, with the way this place /ended/ for its last owners --" Shane shrugs. "I'd kind of prefer to keep any trouble from ever /starting/, you know? I have a lot of friends down on the guard staff at Mendel, they like to take their breaks here too. Keep an eye on things. Make sure it always /is/ more trouble than it's worth to try and start trouble." "Mendel. The clinic?" Keeley glances around the room, as if he would spot one of the guards there. "I applied there not long after I got shitcanned. Never heard back from them, though. The HR woman told me she'd sent the resume off to the head of security, but." He shrugs his shoulders, smile lilting on his face in a half grin. "Don't think I'd trade that for this, though. Not sure which one of us has the harder job, but I bet mine has better benefits." "The Clinic, yeah. My dad works there on their security staff, they're not far so a lot of them grab food and coffee here on their breaks. Like I said, we haven't /had/ trouble? But it's always good to know if some /starts/ there'll be people around who can calm it. Or just -- people around who make it so not worth anyone's trouble /to/ start shit." Shane's grin quirks a little wider. "They have pretty good benefits, I don't know. Their uniforms are sharper, too -- {sorry} boys." The apology comes reflexively in Spanish. "Body armor is not very flattering," Eric's voice speaks up from the counter, turning to grin a wide grin at Shane. "Makes you look fat /and/ it covers up your figure. Not a good combination," he says, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket. "Add the uniform and the belt and all the crap we have to carry, yeah. The bike cop uniform looked a lot better, I've gotta say. The badge does add something, at least." Keeley gives Shane a despairing look and shakes his head. "Well, I'm sure that we'll be around. And you can always give us a call. Dispatch will send us if you say mutants are involved. I'm sure Eric can get the address flagged as well, just in case." Shane's gills flutter slightly at Eric's wide grin, and he answers it with a dip of his head, slipping back behind the counter to get their coffees while Inès handles the food. "Hide that figure?" Inès has a bit of laughter in her voice, dark eyes skipping merrily over Eric. "We couldn't have /that/, could we." Shane sets Keeley's cup down on the counter for him when it's ready, but Eric's he carries around to offer out to the man. "Well. That'll be -- something." There's still a lingering ripple fluttering at his gills. "Having you all. Hanging around." "It would be a shame, wouldn't it?" Eric says, turning to wink playfully at Inès, then Shane in turn. Keeley groans and runs his hands through his hair. "Don't encourage him. Please, for my sake." Eric grins at his teammate and reaches out to take the coffee from Shane, letting his fingers gently run along the boy's as he takes the cup from him. "Thanks, Shane." Eric says, voice softening, as his eyes flick over Shane's black ones. "You've got quite the cafe here. 'm glad to see you're doing well." "He'd be horrible with or without any encouragement," Shane answers Keeley with a small snort that fades into just a return of fluttering-gills at the touch of Eric's fingers. His eyes pull away, looking around the cafe with a slow pull of breath. "It's nice. Here. Actually kinda found something I'm okay at, you know? Feels kind of better than just being a fuckup all the time." Keeley glances at Shane and Eric, and his brow furrows for a moment. He blinks once, then heads to the counter to pick up his coffee and move over to plop down next to Cris, starting up a hushed conversation. Eric doesn't notice, still looking and smiling at Shane. "There wasn't much 'a doubt that you would, eventually, Shane. B's brilliant, but ain't no smarter than you are." The police officer looks around the cafe and grins. "And it looks better n' it ever did before. I had my doubts anyone'd rebuild it, after what happened. Which would'a been a pity." "B's brilliant." For some reason this admission is quiet and a little unhappy, a small tension curling through Shane's shoulders that he pushes away soon after. "Yeah, well, getting firebombed, painting a huge target on yourself, not exactly smart busInèss sense but." His smile returns, crooked. "/I'm/ the dumb twin so of course I had to go wave a big middle /finger/ at those assholes." "Doesn't look like it was a stupid decision," Eric comments, smile still on his face. "You've got a hell of a cafe goin' here, Shane. B's great, but he don't have his own company." The older man raises his coffee cup in a salute, taking a sip of it and smiling at Shane over the rim of the mug. "And I bet you're a good boss, too. Ain't that right there?" he says, louder, turning his smile back onto Inès. "He's a slavedriver," Inès promptly answers -- though with customers tended she's slipped back into browsing reddit on her tablet, an amused smirk giving more of a true answer to this question. Shane huffs quietly, gills rippling again. "B'll have hir own company soon /enough/ I don't doubt. The shit ze's coming up with --" He gives his head a small shake, eyes closing briefly and his hands lifting to press against the sides of his collar and pin down his fluttering gills. "Too bad you got your job back, my nightclub could use a bouncer." Eric laughs and shakes his head, eyes dancing mischeviously over Shane. "'m sure he is. Well, I'm sure I'll be here almost as much as if I was, 'specially if we're gonna be takin' up residence at one a' your tables between shifts. And think 'bout it: this way, the City's the one pickin' up the tab instead'a ya." His eyes flick up and down Shane, and he takes another sip of his coffee. "If you really insist, though, I'll be more'n happy for ya to pay me as well." "Oh, well, if you're /expensing/ it anyway fuck your free coffee," Shane replies with a quick snort of a laugh. It fades into a shake of his head. "Christ, are cops' salaries /that/ bad? You're fucking shameless." Eric manages to keep a straight face for about three seconds before he bursts out laughing. "You think they let me /expense/ things?" He goes back to laughing, shaking his head with amusement. "Shane, I pay for my own uniform. If the city could figure out'a way ta charge me for the /ink/ I use printin' up the arrest warrants, they'd do it." He grins at the smaller boy and runs a finger along underneath one eye, still chuckling. "I think you probably pay your staff better'n us, once you add in tips." "What a fucking racket." Shane shakes his head, glancing back towards the door as it opens again to admit a trio of college-aged people, one with a smattering of blue spots visible tracing down the sides of his face and neck and disappearing below his shirt collar. "I think my lunch rush is going to be starting soon. Enjoy --" He hesitates a moment, glancing up to Eric and then away. "Enjoy your coffee, aright?" "Alright. See ya 'round, Shane. Tell B I said hi." Eric says, raising a hand with an affectionate smile. "I..." He trails off and shakes his head once, settling for just a smile. "I'll see ya, Shane." Eric says, dropping his hand and turning to step over towards the other two officers and sink into a chair himself.