ArchivedLogs:In Which Bad News Is Received And Tables Are Cleaned Way More Than Is Entirely Needful

In Which Bad News Is Received And Tables Are Cleaned Way More Than Is Entirely Needful
Dramatis Personae Allison, Taylor	2017-08-13 "I think everyone is famous in the eyes of their friends."
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 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. Having arrived about fifteen minutes ago, Allison is tucked away in a booth working away on a smoothie and some type of sandwich. The popstarlet is dressed in a pair of relaxed jeans, a simple top and a windbreaker. Once in awhile she's had a visitor at the table from a 'new' fan or just another young mutant and she has enjoyed engaging in light conversation and autograph signing when asked. With the evening having approached, she steals a look out the window from time to time, followed by glancing at her phone to check the clock. Taylor has been here considerably longer than fifteen minutes, keeping pretty busy with a fairly steady stream of customers, food prep, a pile of side work that doesn't seem to be getting any smaller. At the moment, though, there's a lull in what has previously been a busy influx of People To Tend To, and with the respite from being tied behind the counter he makes his way out from behind it, briefly rubbing at one temple as if that can keep out the ceaseless jangle of noise from the myriad surface thoughts floating around the room (spoiler: it doesn't help.) He has a spritz bottle in one flexible arm, a couple of rags in a few others, and he makes his way over toward the side of the room to stop at a table beside Allison's, leaning over to soak up a puddle of spilled coffee that a recently departed customer left. His chin lifts in a quick hello that comes with a quick flash of smile. He's dressed, today, in dark jean shorts, black sneakers, a red Kaepernick jersey. As she continues to glance at her phone, Allison lets out a soft sigh. Her fingers tap away at the glass gently when an alert pops up, followed by a slight shake of her head. << Well, my life is officially ruined. >> Her thoughts may be picked up with a tone of anxiety and depression attached to them. As Taylor nears, she offers a smile to him in return, sunny and bright which betrays her running stream of thoughts. "Hey T. What's up?" She calls over as she slides her chin into the palm of her hand, turning her phone over as it continues to buzz and light up. Taylor's eyes flick up from his work, one arm pausing in its wiping of the table. He hesitates before actually spritzing it down, studying Allison's face for a moment before venturing a careful: "Bad news?" One of his clean rags waves in a gesture toward Allison's buzzing phone. "Oh. You know. Death threats are all over my Twitter page. Record label will be announcing tomorrow publicly they have dropped me as an artist even though my single is skyrocketing on the charts." Allison says as she spins the phone about in her fingers. "So, now I'm unemployed and the album I created won't see the light of day unless someone 'leaks' it on the Internet. My father is planning on suing the label, but not sure how far we'll get." Taylor winces, head ducking in sympathy. "Ouch." A pause, his cheeks pulling in as he sucks in a slow breath. Now he does spray down the table, a distinctly citrusy smell coming from his cleaning spray. "Which seems like an understatement. That's," he shakes his head slowly, "a lot. Sucks that you gotta deal with all that." "Sure, it sucks. It is what it is, you know what I mean? I'm not going to cry about it. I came out for a reason and I'm going to own it. I'm a mutant. I'm not going to hide who I am and reap the benefits normal humans do, while the rest of you who can't look like me, or hide easily gets treated like shit and beat up. I'm going to fight for equality and I'm going to utilize my fan base to pressure our politicians." Allison says as she gives another spin of the phone on the table. "We need anti-discrimination laws for mutants in the work force. Just because you have tentacles or horns or a tail, doesn't mean you can't have a job or be protected from being fired for no reason." Taylor's mouth opens briefly, but closes again wordlessly. He nods along with Allison, slow, eyes turning back down to his work as he wipes down the table -- maybe a little more thoroughly than necessary. Firm circles, repetitive, the center of the table is getting /exceptionally/ cleaned. "Yeah, that's definitely important. Good luck with that. Really hope you win it." Allison glances over at him as she watches him work, then says, "Okay, what stupid thing did I say this time?" The telepath looks back up, blinking at Allison. Kind of bemused. "... Pardon?" "You're obviously frustrated. You're working that table to the bone. It's probably sterilized now. I said something stupid, or at least something you aren't cool with. So, what was it? I'm really trying here." Allison says as she watches him with a lift of a brow. "I want to do the right thing. But, it seems that every time I open my mouth, I shove my foot into it." "Every time?" Now Taylor's brow is wrinkling, one slender limb rubbing at the back of his back, his tone slipping into even greater confusion. "What did you -- did I say something to you /before/? We've talked for all of ten minutes, I don't --" His head shakes once more. He glances back down at the table, straightens with a small sigh to push its chairs back in neatly. "You're having a mad stressful day, and that sucks. I think you might be kind of --" He hesitates, tentative in his next words, "-- letting some of that stress make you think people are judging you when they're not. I don't even know you. I do feel bad shit's hitting the fan, though." "No, not you. Just other people I've talked to before." Allison says with an amused smile on her face. "I just feel that I say stupid stuff without knowing it at times." She shifts up into her seat a bit, nudging her plate to the side a bit. "And I'm new at this, you know? I'm scared, I'm nervous, I'm anxious. I just don't want to offend anyone by accident or come off as a dumb blonde." She lets out a soft breath as she watches him. After a few moments, she glances down as her phone vibes again. << Great, which one of you assholes are threatening to show up at my front door or school again. Maybe home school won't be that bad. >> "Everyone says stupid stuff at times." Taylor folds two serpentine arms against the back of a chair, leaning against it. "And I think scared is understandable given -- shit, fucking /everything/. I mean, I'm /pretty/ sure you're going to say dumb shit sometimes or say something offensive. But if you do and someone tells you about it, you learn and you move on." He glances back to the phone when it vibrates again, before looking back up to Allison. "But you didn't say anything shitty to me just now. Just had a lot on my mind lately anyway." One of his arms flicks toward her phone. "You thought about just silencing it for a while?" "Yeah, but I don't want to miss something from my dad either. Worried about him as well. So far he's being supportive, but he's a lawyer and I'm sure that he'll get a ton of pressure himself." Allison says as she leans forward a bit. "So, what's going on with you? What's on your mind that has you scrubbing holes into tables? You okay?" "Oh, good." Taylor smiles at this. "I'm glad you've got support from him. Having family who'll have your back is -- ten times as important through this kind of thing. I really hope the bullshit dies down soon. Take some of the pressure off." He looks back down at the table, one eye scrunching up kind of sheepishly. "I guess I did overdo that one a bit." No matter, he's moving on to an adjacent table. Just an /ordinar/ level of wiping for this one, though he goes kind of slow about it. "Me? I'm good. Country's going to hell, but I'm good. Had a bunch of friends get arrested at Grand Army Plaza this afternoon. Still waiting to hear if they'll get bail set today or not. Sunday /and/ a million and one arrests, so who /knows/ how long it'll take before they're home." Allison furrows her brows a bit as she watches him head to the next table. "Do you want me to see if my dad can help out any? Maybe he can make a few calls." Her head tilts to one side as she flips the silencer on her phone over to keep it from the constant purring along the table. As she watches him, her eyes give a slight dip downwards. She studies him for a few moments before chuckling to herself. << Cute butt. >> She gives a lazy grin for a few moments before shaking her head in a sobering manner, taking another sip of her soda. "S'cool, there's mad lawyers who help out at these things. There's just only so much you can do to hustle it along. I'm sure they'll get processed eventually but --" Shrug. After wiping down this table, Taylor just leans against it, resting up against the side nearest Allison's table. "I'm not so worried they'll be in jail forever just. The whole thing is a bullshit, you know? Get beat on by nazis, and who do the cops arrest?" Taylor's cheeks puff out, eyes briefly closing. A fleeting smile crosses his face, crooked and amused before he opens his eyes again. "One of them got a birthday today, too. I'mm'a make sure he got a /bigass/ feast waiting when he gets home." "You'd think they'd be arresting nazis." Allison says as she wrinkles her nose. "But, hopefully there was enough cameras out there to plaster these asshole's faces all over social media so they can be identified and shamed in typical warcry fashion. I don't know why they would even show up to shit like that knowing they could get recognized and probably fired or outed by their neighbors and families." She works the straw for a few more sips until it rattles the ice cubes at the bottom. "Who's birthday is it?" Taylor's nose wrinkles in mirror of Allison, several of his arms lifting in a helpless shrug. "It's been historically kind of rare that this country arrests nazis. Any luck we make enough noise and /eventually/ that'll change. And after that murder yesterday at least a few more people are making noise." His small laugh is a little wry, though: "For the next week or so till people forget again and go back to yelling at everyone else for not being nice enough to the nazis." Straightening, he tucks the chairs at this table in as well. "Just a friend of mine." Now his smile is wider, tone a little amused, "Nobody famous." "Nobody famous, huh? I think everyone is famous in the eyes of their friends, so technically everyone is famous." Allison grins back at him. "Are you going to throw a party for them?" "Fair enough," Taylor answers with a laugh. "By /that/ metric he's a rockstar. And we were gonna have one tonight but -- jail. I guess jail support folks could go sing 'Happy Birthday' real loud outside central booking." He reaches to pick the spray bottle back up off the table. "That's /like/ a party, right? Suppose I'll see where shit's at --" A small frown, here, "if I ever get off work. Weekend night shifts feel the longest." Head shaking, he gives the table one last wipe. "Best get back to it. Cafe ain't gonna clean itself." With a small upward jerk of his head, a small smile, he heads back off.