ArchivedLogs:In Which Mutual Support Is Awkwardly Offered And Thoughts Are Awkwardly Overheard

In Which Mutual Support Is Awkwardly Offered And Thoughts Are Awkwardly Overheard
Dramatis Personae Eve, Taylor
In Absentia	2017-04-25 << More like Lovecraftian Cheesecake. >>
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. A drizzly grey evening has kept foot traffic slow and the pre-dinnertime business at Evolve is sloooow. Behind the counter a dark-skinned dreadlocked barista is playing Scrabble on her phone; the few occupied tables mostly have individual table squatters who have been there for hours with their laptops or books. Taylor has been in the kitchen for some time now, dragging out whatever side work he can find, but with all the vegetables chopped and silverware wrapped and dishes washed the tall ink-skinned tentacled teenager is making an appearance again. He has a flyer in one hand, which he's heading over to the community bulletin board to post prominently in the center amid advertisements for mutant-savvy nannies and support groups and tabletop role-playing and yoga. "Something Different", this one says, a callout for mutant artists or volunteers who want to help with an art showcase. It's after school, and she has a few hours to herself before it's time to work at her parents' bodega. With all her recent exposure to mutants, she decided that maybe it is time to get to know some more in a more friendly, open space. A place where they gather. Having heard about the coffee shop, she's pretty sure this qualifies. She's got a blouse and a hoodie on today, instead of her usual turtleneck, with a little black choker. The hoodie is swept off, revealing a bandage wound about her right arm, clean and white. Still, seeing Taylor on the way over to the counter does provoke a slight fear reaction. Why? Well, mostly because she was bitten by a mutant fairly recently. <<Be quiet brain. There's no reason to think you'd have any reason to get grabbed, and anyway, it's not like EVERY mutant with odd appendages and stuff is poisonous. The last one was probably the exception, not the rule. Besides, you look kinda rough today too, Eve. Oh god, I shouldn't have come out today without the turtleneck. What are you doing? You look awful, and this is stupid. You're intruding, noone wants you here. Just go home. Put the hoodie back on. Your shoulders look huge without it...>> Eve is soon ordering some iced coffee and SOUP and then departing to look at the community bulletin board... as she pulls her hoodie back on. "Um... hi... Do you... uh... need to be a mutant to volunteer?" Her voice is more steady and cheerful than the nearly crippling anxiety in her mind would lead one to believe. Like two different people. And the voice of her mind is far softer than the slightly burred tone of her speaking voice. Taylor is tidying up the board -- cleaning up old notices for events already past, arranging the remainder so all the flyers can be properly seen -- when Eve approaches. If several of his arms pull inward, wrap around himself, smaller and less obtrusive as she nears, well, maybe that's coincidence. He takes a breath, turns, a cheerful smile on his face, bright stark white in contrast to his jet black skin. "You don't have to be to volunteer, no. You interested in art? I think it's going to be pretty cool." It may be a coincidence, but... since the boy has tentacles, well, she draws no parallel between the timeliness of his behavior and her own thoughts. Which continue on in there nervous parade. If anything, her social anxiety becomes a little tighter. What she does notice is the 'steadying breath' if indeed that is what it was. << Oh god, I made him uncomfortable. Just stop bothering people. Mom and Dad were right, people just think you're weird and you make everyone uncomfortable and you shouldn't be going out dressed like this... >> The verbal behavior is just as disconnected as before, too. She too is smiling,"It's less... art, and more... I don't really... know many mutants, I guess? And I feel like maybe I should fix that since it's been a pretty positive experience so far, and I figure maybe participating in the community would be a good way to do that? Wow. That sounds kind of stupid? Is that stupid? Besides, Mom and Dad really believe that kids should really be bettering the community and supporting art is... They say that businesses are the blood of the community, but art is sort of like its soul?" She's not a super cerebral one. And now she's babbling. << Oh god, I'm babbling, whycan'tIshutup? >> Taylor leans up against the back of a nearby chair, palms bracing atop it. His shoulders lift, fall, a quick casual hitch. "Stupid? I don't know. I don't think it's stupid to want to get more familiar with groups you may not know much about. It can be complicated, trying to navigate the dynamics of a heavily marginalized community, but I don't think I'd say stupid. I admit it can probably be a strange line to walk? Coming in as a human and learning how to support without being weird and fetishizing or condescending or just. Gross. But if you genuinely want to be a part of the community people will help you out." His head tips to the side, grey eyes fixing thoughtfully on Eve's face. "Why us?" For once, her thoughts and words are in sync. Uncertainty. But honesty. "It's... I'm sort of part of my own marginalized community. It's not the same. Not by any means. But... I think... marginalized people need to support each other. I know what it's like to have people call me a freak, or fetishize me based on what I consider superficial traits. Having people who should be my allies talking down to me. It's... like I said, it's not the same thing at all. But it's... similar enough that I think there may be common ground. I think there's... Strength to be found there, I guess." Eve wrinkles her nose, not really accustomed to such cerebral ruminations, most of the time. "It's not like my little marginalized group doesn't have a community, or anything, but... why restrict my socialization almost entirely to people who are just like me?" There's a subtle easing to Taylor's shoulders, a gentler warmth to his smile -- smaller, now, but more genuine and less customer-service-practiced. "Aight, that's fair. These days especially, feel like we /all/ need to stick together as much as we can, huh? Wish more people felt that way." His smile is a little lopsided. "Never going to build any kinda revolution if we don't even have each other's backs over --" He glances at the community board briefly. "Potlucks and art showcases." The girl blushes and nods a little bit. She notices the easing up of the shoulders pretty keenly. << Did... did /I/ make someone nervous? >> Genuine surprise there. "I... think there are more people than it looks like that feel that way. But I think they're maybe afraid of sticking their neck out? Except... I think their neck is out just by them existing. So might as well move it in the direction that might CHANGE things. Or at least make them more... safe?" She does offer a smile though, holding up a finger. "One moment." She returns to the counter to get her coffee and bowl of soup, and asks,"Buy you something to eat? Keep me company while I do so? Or are you... uh... on-duty?" She looks over at the board as she does so. "Funny how stingy people can be about things that don't diminish in the giving. Respect. Freedom. Rights." She shrugs. "It's not like I walk around with a hashtag-girlslikeus button or anything, but it's really not a lot to ask, to be allowed to just... you know, be yourself." "Hypothetically I'm on duty, but, uh --" Taylor gestures around the half dead cafe. "Probably Aisha can hold it down on her own for a hot minute while I keep you company. And it's really /not/ a lot to ask but some reason people seem to think that having respect is a zero sum game. Like if they start treating other folks like people too it's going to take away from them. It's so fucked up, we shouldn't all be in some kind of twisted competition for humanity." One of his long rubbery arms uncoils, snaking out to pull out a chair for Eve. He drops into the chair he's been leaning against. "Girls like us? Isn't that --" He glances up and over Eve again, head ducking sheepishly a moment later. "Oh, uh, my bad, I -- didn't know. I mean of course I didn't know, you didn't say. I mean it's cool, I totally don't --" His face scrunches up, hand skimming over the top of his smooth head. "/Right/ so about learning how to not be awkward and terrible with other people's communities." Pleasure actually suffuses her face as the thought drifts across her mind, << Maybe this blouse isn't so bad. >> Her shoulders actually straighten and she seems a little more.. at ease. Her smile widens and she takes the chair, completely forgetting to stare at the action of the uncoiling limbs. "Nono. It's alright. One of the first things I said to a mutant was 'I've never met a mutant before'. To which, I was reminded 'that I know of'. I get what you're saying. Not going to take offense. Since, you know, part of the whole effort is you not immediately clocking me the minute you lay eyes on me." That gets a wink, and then she's setting her soup down to give it a try. << This is actually pretty good. >> She spoons a few small mouthfuls up, before sipping her coffee. "Mmm. I can never quite get used to regular coffee. Such a big portion. I usually shoot cafecito at home." Having thusly traded places for who feels awkward right this moment, she bulls on,"I think for your own situation, there's even probably a pretty good argument for 'the next step in humanity' there. A real, tangible sign of evolution. A thousand years from now, everyone wandering around could be genetically active, so to speak. I suppose everyone who has power is always afraid of others having more, mmm? I'm sorry, this is probably terribly rude, but do you have a politically correct terminology? Mutant feels kind of rude. Or is that the... uh... mode of address?" "Well, you look pretty. I like your shirt." Taylor drops his hand to the table, fingers fidgeting at the edge for a moment. "Work here long enough you get real used to all sorts of coffee. I'm kind of an addict now," he admits with a laugh, "getting it free is a danger." His head shakes after this. "Mutant is fine, honestly. Just stay away from mutie or freak. I feel like just about anything /can/ be a slur if you say it without respect but the word itself is neutral." He's been looking down at his hands but now he looks back up at Eve. "So how's the soup? You think you'll come back?" "You would be the expert." For a moment her mind just rides over the simple compliment. Then it sort of... rewinds. << Buh? Did I just get a... compliment? >> For some reason, this triggers a sort of reset of her attention. She takes a look... A real look at Taylor. << Tall. Taller than ME. Athletic. Artsy-smartsy. Knows coffee. How to cook. Not in fact all hands, despite having more than the average compliment. Totally a seven. Maybe a provisional eight. Totally a ten if he can dance. >> Yes. Taylor has swooced-in under her boy-o-meter. And now that she's done it, she can't unsee it. At least she manages not to blush. "I know what you mean. My abuela, she just keeps handing me the stuff every time I ask her about serious stuff and pinching my cheek. I've started saying 'I need to talk to you' every time I'm thirsty. I got kind of bitten by a young mutant the other day, and I guess their... parents? Minders? Not sure. Their family brought me home. Abuela, she told one of them, Ion was his name, I think, that he was too skinny and next thing I know, her and mom were feeding him." She drags a hand down her face in utter embarrassment. Still, soup were asked about,"I like it. I'll come back. It's a relaxed enough atmosphere that I'd come back if it were at least OKAY. But this is... I'm so used to Cuban, so... this may sound silly, but it's a nice change." Taylor's eyes open just a little bit wider, his teeth catching at his bottom lip. "Damn, you got bit by Ion's kid? Ouch. Glad you're okay." He rocks his chair back, breathing out a quiet laugh. "It doesn't sound silly. Sometimes you just need a place where you can relax. We try to keep this place homey. Especially for our community, that's a thing a lot of people don't have anywhere else." His grin at Eve is quick and bright. "And even if you do sometimes it can be a little overwhelming." He lets his chair fall back to the ground, pressing his palm down flat against the table. There's a long hesitation before he adds: "-- I dance, by the way. I'm probably going to be dancing in the art -- show. Thing." Wow. << This guy is, like, totally inside my head. He's a ten. Play it cool Eve. You came here to be social, not swoop down on unsuspecting boys. Don't giggle like an idiot. >> She giggles. << Dammit! >> She does slide her hoodie off again, showing off her bandaged arm to the boy,"Yeah. Sunk their teeth right in. Kind hurt. Then it didn't. Then I was unconscious for like, five or six hours. Luckily, not deep bites, doesn't look like it's going to leave a scar." Relief on that is palpable. Eve finds herself looking at a tentacle, for a moment. << I bet he is una bendición in the kitchen if he can coordinate all those. Abuelita would try to put him to work right away. Well. After she got finished crossing herself. >> That thought makes her sad, and the frown shows on her face. << At least papa and mama would get it. >> She goes back to eating for almost a full minute, before she mentions,"My parents. My family in general. They love me. I'm the only kid. But they don't really... get it. Home is... safe, but not... comfortable, if that makes sense? They want me happy. So much. But... I have to be fair to them... they've become... okay with not understanding. They just... understand I need things they don't get and kind of accept it. I shouldn't complain." She shrugs, and raises an eyebrow, smiling,"I'd like to see that. I'll definitely show up. I'll help set things up and then I can cheer you on. Or... do you not cheer at these things? I do not art very well." "It makes sense. Family can be complicated like that. It's good they love you. But sometimes --" Taylor shrugs. "I don't think it's bad to complain, though. It's not like you're talking shit on them or anything. It's okay to know they love you /and/ also wish they understood better." One of his smaller arms gestures up from behind him to flick a small wave around the cafe. "S'why we seek out what other community we can find, right? Do you have places? That are supportive, that you can go?" His hands drum lightly against the table, a brighter note of cheer entering his tone. "Oh hell yeah, you can cheer on dancing. It might be harder to cheer on, like, a painting, but we could try it. Cheer on /all/ the art." "I have my therapist. And, you know, there's people online. I know there're support groups, but I don't really... They're not? Me. I don't usually want to talk about how I'm different. I want to... forget it. To not think about it? I'm not, like... stealth or anything, but..." << Ugh. I sound like a psycho. >> "It'd be nice to know I have a place when I feel the need to, but... My parents, my family are REALLY traditional. Abuelita still deadnames me. Mom and dad don't get the difference between trans and gay. They avoid talking about clothes, boys. I'm pretty much guaranteed to be spending prom at home. I can't break their heart again, so going to a support group? Dad already can't make eye contact for days when I go to the doctor." She rakes her fingers through her hair. Still, Eve smiles,"I'm totally going to buy pompoms now. See if I don't. Come on, let's see what you got. Shit. Did I introduce myself yet?" She holds out her hand,"Eve Pagan. My parents have a little bodega down in East Harlem." Taylor listens with a small nod while Eve talks, brows creasing faintly. "You don't sound like a psycho," he reassures, only a little self-consciously. "You sound like you care about your family and you got a lot to think about and juggle. It sounds -- tough. I don't know. Balancing your needs. And theirs." He reaches out, clasping her hand firm in his. "I'm Taylor. My mom is way the hell on the other side of the country which means I can fuck up /so/ much more without breaking her heart so long as my school doesn't catch me at it and rat me out." The girl's brows crease for a moment,"I never said I sound like a psycho." Why it hasn't gotten through her thick skull that he always seems so... on point hasn't crossed her mind. After all, tentacles and telepathy... they don't go together... Right? Except now her brain is turning that over. << I... didn't say that out loud did I? Oh god. Am I blurting things? >> Her cheeks become... very flushed at this point. "It's like you read my mind." Wait. She DOES know telepathy is actually a thing, right? "Yeah, but you have your own challenges too. I don't think people should have to hide, but you don't even get that chance. I know some of the fucked up things people say to me. What they think is okay to say to me. I'm betting you have a pretty big catalog of them too. At least YOU get it. Half of people who try to be supportive are like 'screw your parents if they can't deal'. It's more complicated than that. I love them and I want them to be happy, too. It's nice SOMEONE gets that, at least. How'd you get so intuiti-" << Wait. Is mind-reading a thing? >> It takes a moment for the thought to percolate. Taylor swallows, fingers slowly gripping at the edge of the table again. "I did read your mind. I mean, I can read your -- I mean, mind-reading is a thing and I am a telepath and no, I don't do it on purpose and no, you're not blurting things out loud." His nose wrinkles up, head dipping slightly. "I like to think that I get at least some of my intuitiveness from listening to people though and not from -- um. Accidentally eavesdropping -- on -- people." He shrugs, a little uncertainly. "Like in concept I don't have any problem if people want to be like 'peace, out' with an unsupportive family but it's obvious from listening to you that you love your family and that's not the situation you're in. Family is just way more nuanced that black and white a lot of the times and part of /any/ relationship is going to take working at it, right?" His fingers have not let up their harder clench at the table. "And hearing that's in -- what you say. How you say it. Not just what you. Think." The girl slides her soup to the side, still blushing, and thumps her forehead onto the table. << Oh. My. God. >> "That... actually... wasn't... Was not going to ask any of those questions. I'm afraid I'm too entirely focused on the utter embarrassment of knowing that I was MENTALLY RATING you in an utterly superficial manner. In a way that might as well have been out loud. I'm soooo sorry." And now that she's trying NOT to think about things like his height or athletic build, she can't stop herself from noticing. "Can we, for the moment, pretend that what is currently happening in my head is totally not happening in my head?" Yes. Yes. Focus on what he's saying! Family! Family is a good topic! Kind of a sad topic right now, but a topic nonetheless! "I figure... how many people just... trust that other people know what they need even when they don't understand it. I feel like... understanding would be nice, but acceptance is more important in the long run. They want me, still, you know? However that means. I think... they're just more happy I'm not tanking my grades or dropping out or anything." A pause. << I know! >> A flyer is fished out,"Drop by my parents' shop sometime. Tell them you know their daughter. They'll feed you. And pump you for information. Probably on me. I can't say you won't get some looks, but they'll feed you. Say hi, if I'm around." "What's happening in your head?" Taylor asks innocently, "I totally don't hear a thing." He takes the flyer, studies it for a moment before folding it and tucking it into a pocket. "So long as your parents won't mind some kind of Lovecraftian horrormonster turning up and talking about their daughter I'm game." The bell over the cafe door jingles; he glances toward it with a small sigh as a large pack of teenagers troops in. "Oh man actual customers. I should probably go help with food." His smile is still warm as he rises. "But I'll come by some time, yeah? And maybe I'll see you around here again? I hope, anyway." The girl somehow manages to nod without lifting her forehead off the table. "You'll forgive me if I find eye contact impossible right this moment, right?" << More like Lovecraftian Cheesecake-AGHSTOPITSTOPIT. That doesn't even make sense Eve. >> "Like I said, they might stare a little, but they've never kicked out anyone who didn't steal something. No worries. And, I totally have to shill for the family. Tell your friends, mutant money spends at Sabor de Cuba just as well as anyone's." << Shut up Eve. Really. Just stop. >> A thumbs-up is given as she finally lifts her head and starts rubbing at it where it rested on the table. "Yeah. I'll, you know, be here. I'm sure. 'Cause. Reasons." Once her embarrassment fades anyway.