ArchivedLogs:Jumpy

Jumpy
Dramatis Personae Jack, Teague	2015-09-13 '
Location <NYC> Upper West Side
One of the greenest parts of the grey iron and steel of New York City, it is not merely the proximity to Central Park that makes this neighborhood of Manhattan so. Trees and small parks are scattered throughout the neighborhood, as well as memorials and pedestrian-only streets. There are many theatres in the neighborhood, second only to Times Square and the museum mile in its cultural offerings. Though sunny, the recent rain has carried a crisp autumn chill in with it. From the direction of the Lincoln Arts Center, Teague cuts across one of the small parks. He wears loose black sweats that cut off at the shin and a black hoody, left open to that reveal the tank-top he wears underneath. His hair is held back by a clip in a messy blackish-brown mass of tangled waves as he teeters. A fat duffel-style gym bag rests on his hip with a pointe shoe dangling out by a ribbon rather precariously. Jack's unbothered by the chill. Really, he welcomes it after oppressive summer heat. Having needed to get out of the school for a bit, Jack stopped by a small free concert in the park today but since it's done, he's taking his time as he makes his way through the park. He's debating stopping somewhere before meeting with some others to get back to the school when he spots Teague. The shoes dangling get his attention and he moves to catch up with the other mutant. "Hey," he greets. "Looks like you're about to drop something," he says, nodding towards Teague's bag. Today he's just in jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie and doing his best to hide that he's invisible. Teague turns on his heel. His eyes remain lazy and unbothered, but the hand flying to press against his bag defensively and his shoulders squaring off reveal more cynical motives. Upon spotting who it is, the British teen allows himself to relax some. ...still, he isn't exactly accustomed to people going out of their way to help him out, so his response is an unpracticed one. "Cheers," he offers in a breathy, hardly very gratuitous tone as he arches around to stuff the dance shoe back in. The tense reaction gets Jack tensing a bit too. He's been a little more on edge while out than usual. He sighs a little when Teague relaxes though. "Yeah, cheers..." he trails off. "At least I'm not the only one who's all...jumpy." "What do you have to be jumpy about?" Teague asks coolly, if not a little snottily, producing a pack of cigarettes from his hoody pocket and smacking it against the heel of his hand. A woman passes by with a large stroller, but Teague blatantly show her the back of his head as he turns to face Jack. She's forced to struggle to get the thing to go around him. "Asks the athletic guy who's mutation isn't as obvious as damn road flare," Jack replies dryly. "What, didn't see in the news about how people are being bigger assholes to our kind than usual?" he ask. When Teague blocks the path, Jack sighs and sets aside. "Hey, someone's trying to get by," he mutters, making sure to look away to hide his empty hood just in case. “Don’t get all emotional about it, Jesus,” Teague scoffs, rolling his eyes theatrically. He sidesteps out of the way /a little/. “I don’t have a lot of time for watching the news, no.” He side-eyes the woman as she struggles past, glancing her down and up, “And make it a point not to give /people/ the opportunity.” The boy turns back to Jack, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Do you get a lot of trouble?” "You have a questionable definition of emotional," Jack replies. "Yes, you're apparently too busy taking that opportunity yourself," he shrugs. He waits for the woman and her stroller to be away before relaxing again. The question gets a little laugh. "More than I should according to some people." “Feel free to take a page out of my book whenever you like,” Teague reacts mildly, turning to the side to light his cigarette. He takes a drag before holding it off to the side so that the smoke doesn’t blow towards Jack. “Humans, every little last one of them, can suck a big fat cock.” As if just realizing he might be behaving rudely, he pouts and gestures with the cigarette pack in offering, “You want one?” "I'll stick to the stuff I usually read," Jack replies. He snorts a little at the comment though. "Wouldn't say all. Most...probably wouldn't...suggest that particular action either," he mutters, an unseen blush on his unseen face. An empty sleeve is lifted to wave off the offer. "No thanks. Never got into smoking." Teague shrugs a shoulder, sliding the pack back into his pocket. The corner of his mouth lifts in a little smirk. His cigarette-wielding hand moves to hover in front of his chest, "Suit yourself ...on all those counts." The teen takes a step backward and away as a preamble to departing. "Try not to drop your stuff," Jack offers. He stuffs his hands back into his pockets. He'll watch Teague go for a bit before heading out himself. Teague let's out a muffled, unintelligible mumble as a response as he continues to teeter along the way he'd been headed. Idly, he flicks some ash to the side as he heads in the direction of one of the safe houses.