ArchivedLogs:Is That Something You Want

Is That Something You Want
Dramatis Personae Eric, Marinov, Paige
In Absentia	2017-05-07 "When I say 'fuck the police', I don't mean, like... literally."
Location <NYC> Garment District
The Garment District is named quite rightly. In the square mile of the Garment District, some of the world's best fashion designers, clothing manufacturers, and models are packed into the office and retail buildings of the District. The streets are busy, and the clothing of the passers-going always, always fashionable. It's evening, and Marinov is standing at the corner of one of the streets of the Garment District, presently playing on their phone. Presently, they are wearing a grey suit with a hatched pattern, with a blue dress shirt and charcoal tie. The teen had sent a text to Paige with the address and a request to meet up not long ago to go window shopping at stores that carry some of their favourite designers. While Marinov doesn't look up much from the phone for the time being, there is no shortage of people passing by giving them suspicious look, as if they are here for some nefarious purposes. It takes around thirty minutes for Paige to appear, approaching the felinoid teen with a friendly grin. Compared to Marinov's dapper outfit, the horned mutant is dressed rather drably. As the young woman nears her friend, her gaze falls upon the top of their head and her brows furrow. "Are you -- have you -- are you -taller- than me?" she asks them curiously. She then gives their outfit a once-over while the pair of misfits continue to draw skeptical looks. Marinov pushes themselves off the side of the building and says, "Uh. I mean, I haven't really noticed. I guess that I might be taller than you, yeah?" They look Paige up and down and shrug lightly, "I dunno." They finish writing an update on the phone before tucking it away and rubbing their hands together. "I've had to adjust the sleeves and pantlegs on a few things, little by little, over the last year or so..." Paige jabs her own hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "Right. You're still in high school. Still growing. Just I thought I remembered us being the same height is all." The goat-girl lets out a deep breath as she moves to follow Marinov. Her ears flick back and her face makes an expression of slight discomfort as her phone buzzes in her pocket - most likely due to Marinov's social media feed - but her smile returns quickly enough. "So, are you, uh, looking for ideas or something? I mean, you know, for clothes and stuff. That's why we're here, right?" "Yeah, high school. Sixteen years old! Sixteen and a half now. Fuck. Maybe next year I'll start, like, actually seriously thinking about the future and shit. There's time," says Marinov, nodding their head slowly, "Anyways! Yeah, I mean, I come out here to take a look at some of the things that are in style in the season, and I take pictures and stuff. But, what we're here for is for you to pick something you like. You've helped a lot with my project, so I want to put together something to thank you properly. Something that you, you know, want." The young woman raises a brow of what appears to be a brief spurt of anxiety on Marinov's behalf. When they've finished speaking, however, both of Paige's eyebrows have lifted. "Something for me? That's ... that's silly. I don't -- you don't need to do that. That -- really? I mean," she stammers as she pushes some errant strands of hair behind one elongated ear. "I -do- have things in mind, but ... -Thank- you." "Yeah, that's the reason I invited you out here. Besides, it'd be fun to have a new project. But keep in mind, if you find something you like, I'm not gonna reproduce it, I'll just make something like it, inspired by it, but it'll still be a Taylor Marinov original," says the teen as they start down to the first store to peer through the window. They offer a warning: "We can only hang around the windows for so long before they think we're in a gang. Casing the joint to steal all the skirts and shit. Taking them back to our fabric chop shop warehouse." Stepping out of one of the second-hand stores across the street from the danger of LURKING TEENS, Eric is practically strutting in his brand-new bright-green pleather jacket with far too many zippers at all sorts of different angles. Brand-new to him, anyway; this particular fashion abomination practically mugs people on the street screaming about AC/DC and ZZ-Top. Glancing both ways across the street, Eric quickly crosses the street and heads down in the direction that Marinov and Paige are walking in, humming "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" as he strides along the sidewalk. "Well, -yeah-," Paige replies to her friend, a wide smile on her face. "Copying it would be like plagarism or something. Is it still called 'plagarism' if it's clothes?" There is definitely a cheerful note in her voice as she peeks into the window alongside Marinov. "We -should- be in a gang. Then no one would mess with us." A blurred reflection on the glass of a green entity catches the goat girl's attention and she turns to glance at the colorful person. Her brows raise again and she whispers to the felinoid mutant. "Is that Eric Sutton?" "I don't know what it's called when it's clothes, but I mean, I can make a knockoff if I'm not like selling it anyways. I just don't think it's right, even if I think it's okay to draw inspiration from other people's styles, yeah?" Marinov tilts their head at Paige's question, "Who is Eric-?" They glance over their shoulder and raise their eyebrow whiskers, "Oh, you mean Evolve Cop. Whoa. He's your friend, right? Did he tell you that he's going undercover to infiltrate a band of, like, 80s time travelers? I didn't think that was his division." Reaching into one pocket of the jacket, Eric pulls out a pair of mirrored sunglasses and slips them over his face. Because nothing is as cool as not being able to see where you're going. The police officer strides along, quickly closing the gap between himself and the two teenagers, head bouncing along to a beat that's only in his head. "Don't leave me hangin' out like a yo-yo," Eric sings, not at full volume to be sure, but loud enough to be audible to others -- the poor bastards. Wham!, it turns out, doesn't sound better with a thick Southern accent. "Friend?" Paige asks, ears flicking up, as she glances back to Marinov. "No, he's ... he's just a cop I know," she corrects, a hint of red on her face. The young horned woman's eyes then widen as Eric's singing becomes comprehensible as she gives the officer a once-over. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but after a few moments of silence, it is clear that nothing is coming out. "I'd whistle appreciatively, but I can't whistle," says Marinov idly, tail-tip flicking lightly back and forth. Their ears are tilted towards Eric to try and make out the music that he is listening to, and they ask when Eric is close enough, hands cupping around their mouth to try and be heard over the sounds of Eric's headphones, "What the heck are you even singing?" Eric actually /spins/ on one foot in time with the imaginary music, taking one half-step forward and then stopping when he's addressed. He slides his sunglasses down his nose by gently pushing down on one of the arms from behind one ear, looking at Paige and Marinov from over the mirrored lens. "Oh, hey, Paige! And... mmm. We've met, yeah? You an' the chick with green hair?" A smile spreads brightly on Eric's face, one hand quickly whipping the glasses the rest of the way off of his face. "It's this pop song by George Michael from when he was in Wham!. 'Wake Me Up'? Real good stuff." Eric reaches out with one hand, gently pushing Paige's jaw closed with two fingers. "I'm headin' to a theme party. 80s theme." The police officer gestures to his clothing. "Though I think I can pull it off. What'da'ya both think?" While her ears give a single, small twitch at Marinov's words, Paige continues to stare at the newcomer with mouth agape. Silently stare, that is - up until the point that Eric closes her jaw for her. An action that does not seem to be much help as she tries to process what is going on. Rather, it appears to simply cause her ears to press back at an upwards angle and her cheeks to ignite. There are few more moments of staring from the goat girl before she blinks. "Yeah -- you -- pull it off. Yeah. -Theme- party? -Eighties-? No, I -- I think you have it -- have it covered." She then spares a glance to Marinov. "Right? He's got it covered, right?" "O bozhe moy... That's why I wasn't hearing it," says Marinov with a blank expression. They shake their head to keep from staring, "Yeah. My friend has green hair, that's right, and you're Evolve Cop." Their own ears flick a few times at what Paige says, and they answer, "Yeah. I was just theorizing to my friend here that you were trying to rub elbows with some time travellers from the 80s as an undercover cop, but theme party seems more... plausible, yeah. Your costume works." Eric passes his smile back and forth between Paige and Marinov, one side of his mouth showing just a sliver of white teeth. "All I needed ta make it /perfect/ was a DeLorean, but sadly, impound ain't have any of 'em that I could borrow. Or even any I could steal n' then quietly return later. Alas. My life is a poetry a' tragedy." The police officer claps one hand over his chest, affecting a world-weary pose -- for a few seconds before he loses the effort to keep the grin and the laugher off of his face. Marinov chuckles softly and says, "I don't think I've ever even seen a DeLorean in, like, real life. I've only seen one in an old movie I watched. Pretty wild how the doors went up like that." Their eyes drift back over towards Paige, looking her up and down slowly as if assessing whether the outfit would suit Paige, while explaining to her, "I bet if you go undercover, you've gotta fit in, even if the people you're infiltrating have silly outfits. Anyone could be a secret cop." "You gotta do what you gotta do ta' fit in." Eric says, smile still fixed to his face. "Even if it means acid-washed leather jackets with more zippers n' I can count." He shrugs his shoulders, tilting his head to one side in a considering way. "Still, that's the job. Got its ups and its downs." The police officer winks at the other two and raises his hand in a lazy salute. "Gotta get to the party before they decide the decade's over n' we've gotta switch to the 90s. Be good, you two." He puts his sunglasses back onto his nose and settles the mirrored lenses back in place. "Where was I? Ah. Mm, mmm, you're my baby, I'm your fool..." Eric continues on, half-singing, half-humming, as he strides down the street towards the subway station. "That was ... he is -odd-," a blushing Paige informs her friend as she watches the officer take off. "And tall. And -- " With a small, dismissive wave of her hand, the horned mutant cuts herself off. "I ... was thinking of a dress or something. You know, something ... " Her attempt to change the subject back, however, is met with failure when her brows furrow and she adopts a puzzled look. "Do you really think he was wearing that jacket out of his own volition?" "Of course he was wearing that jacket out of his own volition. He's not, like, non-consensually wearing a jacket, yeah?" says Marinov a bit distractedly. "A dress. Hmm... You could use a nice summer dress, maybe something with some colour." They snap out of their thoughts and look over towards Paige and remark, "What's got you all excited all the sudden?" "Excited?" There's a hint of hesitation in Paige's voice and her ears flick back for a moment. She manages to regain her composure quickly and shrugs her shoulder, though the gesture may appear slightly contrived. Glancing upwards, she lets out an anxious breath, before speaking again. "Getting new clothes is always exciting. Especially when they fit well - a quality your work is known for," she remarks with a grin. "Or -will- be known for. I'd still be willing to model for your fashion line, you know. But I'm guess after this festival, you'll have people queuing up to do business with you and to help out. It -is- going to be a business, right? Or just an Etsy shop? I -do- want a dress, though. A summer one would probably be apt for this time of year if it will ever just -stay- warm enough." "Oh, yeah. I mean, I can wear a summer dress in the winter okay, usually... I guess your fur is not as, like, insulating?" says Marinov thoughtfully. They gesture to move along, possibly thinking they've been looking through this glass long enough. "Well. Yeah, I mean, I plan on going into business. Having a business. I dunno. At this point, I'm not really organizing this thing as like self advertisement or anything. Just... something nice with a good vibe. A change of pace, you know? Maybe pass it on to other students or whatever when I graduate, since it seems like everything is actually coming together." "I guess not?" comes Paige's response as she rolls up a sleeve to examine the fur on her wrist. "I mean, it's kind of insulating, but not like I-can-go-out-in-the-cold-with-only-a-t-shirt-on insulating. I don't know - I think it's been getting a little longer." Her countenance twists to show a bemused expression. "Is that the right word for fur? 'Longer'? Like hair?" With another shrug, she moves on. "I know it's not an advertisement or anything," she remarks with a light laugh. "I was joking about that. But it will get your name out some. At least as an organizer of big things, you know? And who knows who you'll meet, right? Maybe there's someone out there who wants to get -into- the mutant clothing business, but would need someone like you to make it happen. It's a possibility." "Your fur is getting longer? Now? In the spring?" says Marinov, "I dunno. I'm not the expert on fur or anything. It's just shorter hair, so I mean, just talk about it like it's hair." The felinoid teen peers through one of the other windows. "I hope that I meet some totally famous people who I can selfie with and then post to social media to make all my friends jealous." They gesture through the window and remark, “That’s cute. Do you have any ideas for what you’d like to start with, or will I just point out everything I like? Either’s fine by me.” "I think it's still growing in? I don't know how these things work! I've only had fur for like three months. Cut me some slack," the horned mutant laughs wearily. "I wouldn't be surprised it Jax Holland showed up. And if Jax Holland shows up, Captain America won't be far behind. And if Captain America shows up ... well, -press-, right? And then if you add Shane and the people from the Evolympics you were talking about - well, then you're pretty much set for life, you know?" Following Marinov's direction, Paige examines the shop window herself. "Mmm. It -is- pretty cute. I think I want something that doesn't, you know, just drape over me? Something that is more, uh ... you know, hugging the body? But not like tight or restrictive. If that makes any sense." "Set for life? Like, for selfies? Yeah, I could take a fuckton of selfies with those people," decides Marinov, nodding as if that is a reasonable proposition. "Meeting Captain America would be sweet, though. You know, when he came out publicly, I was gonna send him a letter. Like. Fuck yeah! Be queer! Maybe people will realize that even their heroes can be queer and it's not just scary mutant terrorists. Though I guess my heroes are people some would consider scary mutant terrorists. Fuck." Marinov gives an exaggerated shrug at that. "And then I thought, I'm pretty sure he doesn't read all his mail, you know? So I just... stopped writing it... And I bet if I met him I'd be like," they put on a blank expression, mouth slightly agape, and wave clumsily, "Sign my face." Paige's eyebrows raise and she laughs aloud at her friend's expression. "You know I've met him, right? And ... -live- in the same complex as him? He's a really nice guy. I wouldn't put it past him if he actually read all his mail. Or at least skimmed it. I have his phone number, though I haven't really needed to call him. It's weird, you know, having a celebrity's phone number. It's like 'are we friends' or am I just a person with his number?" The goat-girl shrugs lightly. "Soooo ..." she begins as she heads towards the next window and returns her hands to the back pockets of her jeans. "Eric Sutton. Evolve Cop. He's, uh, kind of cute, right?" "Yeah, I know you live in the Commons at the same place as him, but I wouldn't want to bug him at his home. It's probably exhausting being like, some famous hero, and being constantly thanked for being great," says Marinov, shaking their head. They start moving along from this window, arms crossed. They glance over their shoulder towards Paige at her question and say, "Yeah, I guess. He's like, got the whole handsome look going on. Is... wait, is that what you were so excited about? Evolve Cop?" "I wasn't suggesting you go knocking on his door; I was just trying to vouch for his character. He's not like one of those ... you know ... big celebrity hot-shots who only cares about himself. I met him when he helped me up off the ground when a group of assholes pushed me. He actually kind of seems to give a damn, you know? I mean, he lives at the Commons for goodness sake. He could probably live anywhere he wanted, right? I -could- try to put in a word for you or something. Mention you at one of the big dinners. But he seems to be a pretty big proponent of people's right to be who they are. He -is- kind of a famous hero, isn't he? Heh." A surprised look passes over Paige's face as she turns to look at Marinov and her ears tilt back. "Excited? What do you mean 'excited'? He's just -- just kind of good-looking is all. I mean he's a cop, so ... but ... " The young woman trails off, casting her eyes away from her friend as she pulls her shoulders back. "Oh. I mean... I dunno. It feels weird telling people that I am like smelling them a bunch, but, you smelled like... you might've been excited?" says Marinov awkwardly. They clear their throat and continue, "But, yeah, he's a cop. And... you gotta be careful around cops, yeah?" Paige's eyes widen a bit as she directs her gaze towards Marinov while keeping her head forwards. Still, her cheeks redden. "I still, uh, don't know what you're saying by that, but I ... think he's kind of cute, okay? He's probably like way to old for me, though. I mean I am probably too young for him, yeah? How old do you think he is? I mean why are we even talking about this?!" Her voice raises as she appears rather flustered. "Cops are bad news anyways. And I've been told not to get too comfortable with him, remember? Ugh. My brain is fucking stupid. Oh, look at that." The horned girl is pointing towards a nearby window where some dresses are worn by mannequin displays - they're not all that different from some others they've already seen, but she seems happy for the distraction. "I don't know how old he looks. Like... thirty? I don't know," says Marinov, "And yeah, I'd trust the people who gave you the heads up, they've probably got their reasons. Like, he seems nice enough for a cop and all, but... I dunno. When I say 'fuck the police', I don't mean, like... literally." They scratch the back of their neck awkwardly and then snap back to the task at hand, "Uh. Yeah." They peer through curiously and ask, "Is that something like what you'd want?" They draw their phone to snap a quick picture. "Fuck -- what -- " is all Paige manages to get out before the skin beneath her fur is completely crimson. Her ears are pressing back as she pauses in her step. "No -- I didn't -- I just -- " Looking completely flustered, the goat girl doesn’t seem to realize that her friend has switched topics. "Is that something I'd -want-? What sort of question -- that's not -- that's not funny," she tries to assert with a shaky voice. "That's not -- not any of your business. I just said that he's cute. Can we just look at dresses?!" With a huff, she moves past Marinov and onto the next storefront.