ArchivedLogs:Made Up Names

Made Up Names
Dramatis Personae Eve, Heather, Paige	2017-04-27 "People that pretty are SUPPOSED to be together."
Location <NYC> El Sabor de Cuba - East Harlem
This place has a very bright and festive atmosphere. Cuban music, as well as various fifties-era tunes play over head as one enters El Sabor de Cuba. There are various hispanic-themed food items all over the store, a generous liquor selection, and plenty of smokables to be had. Colorful decorations and old black and white pictures decorate the walls. Near the back, there is a sort of island kitchen usually staffed by an eighty-plus year old woman who speaks almost no english whatsoever. There's usually one or two older gentlemen playing chess, checkers, or cards at small tables in the area, and a few older women chatting as they take a break from work over shots of cafecito. This is also where a stairway leads up to what one can assume is the upstairs apartment. A recent addition has been posted in the corner of the front window. A sign that in addition to the various deals posted, advertises quietly: Bienvenidos, Mutantes. It looks to be homemade and done in a younger hand. Out front, one can often find men, old and young alike smoking a cigar and watching passersby with a sort of critical, assessing eye. They rarely stir themselves though, unless cries of 'ladron' go up. She doesn't care for the uniform very much. Mostly because it's a chunky, unflattering black apron that is all function and no form. Eve helps out at the family store like a good girl, though! Right now, there's not so much work to do as the dinner crowd has now left, for the most part. Now it's only people nabbing liquor and groceries. So she sits on her stool behind the counter, flipping through a school book, chin propped up on one hand. The old woman cooking in the back still bustles quietly as if it were any other time of day. Cooking is her life, and life is good right now! The scents that usually fill the store are particularly fragrant today. An older man and woman, in their late thirties, early forties, are busy stocking shelves and marking things down on clipboards. The sun has been retired for little over an hour as two figures approach the entrance to the bodega, the shorter one's speech muffled by the glass of the windows. It is likely, however, that her companion is able to hear her. "So, I guess this is the place? I mean ... " Paige glances down at the flyer held in a hand, ears twitching idly. "It has the same -name- as the place and the same address, so it's got to be the place, right?" There's a moment's hesitation and her brows furrow before she adds, "I really hope this isn't a trap or something, you know? That would -- that would just not be fun." Pushing the door open, she peeks her head into the shop, horns and ears visible under a modified ushanka hat. "Yeah, I think this is the place." "If it is a trap then it is very clever and we deserve to be caught and they deserve to catch us," plays Heather re-assuringly to Paige. Once Paige pushes the door open, she zips on through, immediately stopping with a squeak of her sneakers against the smooth floor. She looks around and then toys with her recorder to inform Paige, "They have food here. We could get some food. Is your friend here somewhere?" The young woman is wearing bright pink and blue sneakers with damaged soles, a pair of orange and blue tights and a long faded pink sweater. Over her eyes are a pair of dark goggles, which she adjusts slightly once she is indoors. "If she is not then we should eat." "Bienvenido a Sabor de Cuba." Eve doesn't even look up. At least until the old woman in the back looks up at the sound of the bell over the door and grabs her chest, "DIOS MIO!" The gentleman stocking shelves looks up at the elderly woman, then over at the customers. His eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, but soon there is rapid-fire spanish firing back and forth between him and the woman, and then after a few seconds, he's approaching Paige with his hands held out in a welcoming manner, his voice deep, and heavily accented, "Ah, I'm sorry. My mother, she is very old-fashioned. Please, you're of course welcome. The hot bar is still open for another hour, it's very good. Perhaps you like coffee, though? We have coffee. You look like students. Students love coffee, yes?" Of course, Eve is hopping up shortly, once she recognizes Paige. Her face looks 'crawl-into-a-hole' embarrassed. "{Granny! Oh my god. It's my friend I told you about! Be nice! She's a mutant, not a DEMON. They're probably hungry. I bet they haven't eaten!}" The elderly woman puts her hands to her face as if this were awful and busies herself shuffling food around. The other woman, presumably Eve's mother meanwhile is now fluttering over to fuss over the two girls. Her english, too, is heavily accented, "Oh, my little... daughter's friends! Yes. Come. Please, take one of the seats. Je-Eve, you take your break now. Have your friends eaten? Our food is very good. Mama is a very good cook." She winks at the girls. WINKS. As the door closes behind her, Paige barely gets a moment to open her mouth to respond to heather before she is suddenly bombarded by shouting, many voices, pleading fathers, and winking moms. Her ears are certainly a hub of activity as they flick many times in varying directions - once things have calmed, they finally settle at a backwards angle. Still the horned mutant's jaw remains agape for half a minute while she stands in a bit of a daze. Once she manages to tear her eyes away from Eve's mother, she directs her attention to the father. "I -- uh -- I like coffee?" Though delivered as a statement, her words end in a nervous, sheepish inflection. "Thank you? We're, uh, here to talk to Eve?" A worried look is cast about the bodega until Paige locates the girl in question. Heather's eyes widen a bit as the older lady shouts something and she nods a few times to Paige, playing on her recorder quietly for just the other girl to hear, "I am not sure if that was enthusiasm or something else." She flicks the volume up with her thumb, records another message with a few squeaks, and plays back to the woman, "Coffee is good. And I would like to eat. I could eat." Eve is still a bit embarrassed, but what can she do? The mother nods happily to her daughter as she lifts the apron from over her head and approaches the two. Her head tilts a little bit at the recorder, but she shakes it a little bit, "Abuela, tres cafecito y una cafe`! Ropa vieja, especiale." Eve gestures to an empty table near the back, "Mom, dad, some PRIVACY please?" The 'dad' looks uncomfortable, but nods, going back to his work as the girl leads the others with a beckoning arm, to some tables in the back of the store. Mostly used for two, she has to drag a third chair over. Her mom, meanwhile, takes a spot at the counter, "Sorry, sorry, sorry... Um... Anyone give you trouble on your way here?" Paige gives a silent shake of the head and shrug in response to Heather's initial comment. "I could also eat," the furred mutant adds softly. As she follows Eve towards the back, she removes her hats and begins wringing it in her hands. She takes a seat only after the third chair is retrieved, leaning forwards slightly. "Nothing really much more than the usual, you know? Always better in pairs, though, or at least that's been my experience. But, I br--Oh, right, um, okay." Looking from Eve to Heather, she says, "Eve, this is Heather. Heather, this is Eve." These introductions are accompanied by appropriate hand gestures. Heather plays on her recorder: "I am Heather Brown, codename: Timeslip. She and her pronouns." She nods once in greeting once the message concludes and adds, "No need to say the apology word so many times. No need to be so apologetic. Sometimes people are very enthusiastic." She takes a seat at the formerly empty table, quickly rubs the area of her forehead between her eyes and glances over towards Paige while the recording continues to play, "It is nice to meet you, Eve. I was told you are looking for a tutor." "S- Apologies. We usually speak Spanish here. So during the outbreak, it was... not so much of an issue. But it develops bad English habits." She lowers her voice, though, and soon Eve is intimating, "I totes met Jackson Holland and the Captain last night! They rescued me from, like, skinheads and everything! Even helped me wash the pepper spray out of my eyes!" She actually looks pretty healthy for someone who got pepper sprayed yesterday! "Abuela, correcion. Dos ropa vieja!" A pause, and she asks, "This is probably a stupid question, but CAN you eat meat?" 'Cause... well... goat-person. Abuela shows up, though, moments later with a tray with four little cafecitos, and two cups of regular coffee, piping hot, to set before the girls, "{Jesus, your friends are so exotic. The twitchy one is pretty, but I think she likes the meth.}" Eve makes a face at her grandmother as if pained at the name. And there's the strangled look at he observations. "Um... Oh, right! Mama wanted to know your rates. Algebra. I'm terrible at algebra. May I ask... what's with the recorder? Tell me to shut up if it's none of my business." She looks sheepish. "Is... Codename. Is that a mutant thing?" "I, um, yeah. I can eat meat. I have the teeth for it. At least, for now? I -- I hope I get to keep them. And I'm not a ruminant so I don't, like, cough back up what I've already eaten. Eeeeeh." A visible shudder passes through Paige at the thought, her ears pressing back and down. "But it's not a ... stupid question, you know? Like I said yesterday, it's nicer of you to ask than assume." She tilts her head slightly as she regards the coffee set before them. "Are you okay, though? I don't mean the pepper spray. I mean the -- the whatever situation you needed to be rescued from. Is everything okay? Are you? Captain America - Steve - and Jax live in the same complex as us. We kind of see them around a bunch. Steve is really nice and I've been meaning to speak with Jax. I'm glad they saved you." She appears to be content to leave the other questions to Heather. "Gracias," plays Heather when the coffee is served. "I lived in St. Louis during the outbreaks," comments Heather through the recorder, "And this recorder is like a translator. I speak very fast and the pitch is high to your ears. Your pitch is low and slow to mine." She glances between the cups on the table, reaching for one of the regular coffees for now. "Codename is like a name that I made up. Some mutants have codenames. My parents did. But I do not know if it is a mutant thing. I think it is a me thing." She pulls a straw from her sweater pocket and places it in the coffee cup while the recording continues, "My rates depend on how you use my service. I am available electronically. But I can also be available in person. To have me available electronically and going through problems and theory with you it is only fifteen dollars per hour. To have me in person it is fifty dollars per hour. In that case I usually would prepare custom exercises for what you need to improve on. Beyond the source material. I like algebra." It doesn't take long for two plates of ropa vieja served over rice to be placed in little plastic cartons before each of the girls. "Gracias, abuela." She opens her own box, and starts shoveling food into her mouth via plastic forks. "I... I'm okay. It was scary, and pepper spray is painful, but I got to meet the Cap and Jackson, and they're both SO pretty. I kind of feel like sighing and swooning when I see them together." She fans her face, "People that pretty are SUPPOSED to be together." The girl smiles as she gestures, "Dig in. So. Codename huh? I already got a new name to get used to. Don't know what I'd do with a codename. Um. Mom was thinking hiring a tutor once a week for a couple of hours. Maybe more before a test. Um... I think a hundred is doable?" She makes a face as she thinks it over. "In person tutoring is probably a necessity though. I'm kind of bad at school in general, and computers are no exception." Paige whispers a soft 'thank you' as the food is placed in front of her - food which she appears quite interested in. "This looks absolutely -delicious-," she comments as a bright smile creeps across her countenance. She leans forwards and gives it a brief sniff before picking up her own fork and starting to work on it. "It -is- delicious," she amends dutifully after her first few mouthfuls. "I don't have a codename, though, now that you mention it, I should probably consider it, you know? Don't want my parents finding anything more out about me ... and I'm kind of attached to the name 'Paige'. And Heather is really, really smart. Just saying." Heather immediately starts eating when the plate is placed in front of her, but hits play so that her recorder repeats the same, "Gracias," that she said before. She pauses eating for a moment to record a new response: "In person tutoring is fine. Two hours once a week is good. They seem good together. Jax and Steve. No need for a codename if you do not want one or need one. It can be fun to have one." She seems to be trying to be polite and not just shovel all the meal into her face, but her accelerated speed makes it pretty well impossible to not look like she is ravenously hungry. Eve smiles beatifically as she watches the others dig into their food. Rather than be disappointed, it appears both her and her grandmother seem pleased by the way Heather bolts down her food. She’s practically beaming at Paige’s compliments though. “I have, like, the coolest guests ever. You’re basically neighbors with the cutest, coolest pair in the news. Jeeve? Stax? What would their celebrity name be?” She leans back in the chair, totally focusing on the wrong thing for a time,”Like, living civil rights legends-in-the-making, you know?” She looks over at Paige,”So how does this codename stuff work? Like with superheroes? Like… the Saturnine Avenger? Or we could just call you Nines. Or you know, not.” She lifts her voice back,”{They love your food, grandma! Love it!}” "Nines?" Paige asks of the younger girl as she gently places her plastic fork down, an eyebrow raised and puzzlement clear on her face. "Why would you call me Nines? I don't -- " The horned mutant looks to Heather in confusion before returning her attention to Eve. "I don't quite follow. And I was just joking about the codename thing; I don't know anyone but Heather who does that." Picking up her fork, she starts eating once more. "I'm partial to Captain Jax or Jeeves myself," she offers with a small shrug between bites. Heather puts up a thumbs up while she is eating for a moment, to indicate her enjoyment of the meal. She looks up and wipes her hands, replying: "I do not know how the codename stuff works. It works however I want it to work I guess. Or however you want it to work. You can call yourself anything you want and call that name whatever you want. Then you have a codename or an alias or an aka or anything you want it to be." She shrugs her shoulders a few times once that finishes playing. "I do not know how celebrity names work though. I just call them by whatever they are called. When they are apart: Jax. Steve. Together: Jax and Steve." “It’s an like, short for ‘Saturnine’. It’s… Okay, that’s probably stupid.” She shrugs and begins to fork up food herself, quietly consuming food with something approaching familiarity and approval. Eve likes food. “Mmm. I’m glad I jog so much. I’d probably weigh like all the pounds by now if I didn’t. Abuela thinks everyone here is too skinny.” A pause. “Captain Jax? I like that. I like that a lot.” She gives a thumbs-up to Heather though, ”They’re usually, like, a mashup, but their actual names are, you know, never a losing proposition.” She lifts her voice,”{Mama, Papa, Heather says she’ll do it. And she’s totally reasonable on prices!}” Sounds of acclaim follow. "'Saturnine?'" The goat girl asks, ears twitching as she tries to work it out. But seeing as Eve has moved on, she simply settles for mumbling, "I still don't get it," under her breath. Once the others finish speaking and she's had more of the food graciously presented to her, Paige shrugs again. "I didn't come up with it. Captain Jax, that is. Read it somewhere, I think. Or heard it." After a few more mouthfuls, the furred mutant sighs and casts her gaze towards her lap while her posture slumps a little. "And, yeah, I'm skinny. I don't mean to be. Just ... I guess some old habits die hard, you know?" "I am thin because I need to eat a lot. I never eat enough. I always want to eat more. But I am officially over one hundred pounds," plays Heather, pausing the recording here to put a hand on her hip and nod a few times triumphantly. "As of this morning." She takes a sip of the coffee through her straw and adds, "I sometimes jog. But when I walk I am faster than a run. So people do not like when I jog on the sidewalks. Because I jog as fast as cars. It scares people."