ArchivedLogs:Mistaken Identities
| Mistaken Identities | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2015-07-02 ' |
| 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 plentiful 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. Continuing the theme of blaming the mutant community for all manner of things, the political section of today's city paper features an article profiling a staunchly anti-mutant rights congressman from Ohio. The profile tells the tragic tale of Representative Stepford's late wife and the loss of his two sons to mutation. The piece is sympathetic, and meant to give the wealthy fat-cat's narrow-minded opinions weight. Accompanying an old campaign photo of Representative Stepford with his wife, there are two smaller black and white photographs. The first is of his son Pete, smiling goofily towards the photographer in a grass stained lacrosse jersey. The second photo is of Stepford's other son. It captures a boy set against a dance studio's mirrored wall, staring modestly off-camera and frozen in second arabesque. The article, which is getting some traffic, concentrates on the politician's deranged ideas on demonizing mutation. If choked down to it's last repugnant line, it is purposefully vague as to the fates of the two individual mutant children involved. Then again, one of them is right here, staring demurely out the window just like in the picture. The teen's hair has grown drastically in the year and a half since the photograph was taken. His jaw has hardened and his cheeks have hollowed out some, but the resemblance is uncanny. Teague leans back in a chair by his lonesome, idly drawing up a hand to scritch the diamond tattoo on his neck. Wearing a sleeveless black t-shirt and black denim cut-offs, he's done nothing to conceal his scrapes and bruises. A cup of tea is set out in front of him, but he hasn't touched it in some time. That very article is the current subject of Rictor's attention, its content splayed across the screen of the tablet the man is holding. He scrolls through it slowly, taking a sip of his lemongrass tea every now and then, a look of consternation drawn across his face. The thoughts this congressman holds are truly frightening to the X-Man. Taking a break from the story, Rictor places the tablet on his table and looks up and over at the tables across from him, one of which being Teague's. Having just seen the young man's face on the screen, Rictor does a double take as recognition slowly builds. Still getting nowhere but dead ends with his investigation, Jack's elected to stop by Evolve and to plan his next move. In worn jeans and a light hoodie, he's been waiting on line, scanning over the room as he waits. He spots Rictor and an unseen smile forms on his face. Picking up the smoothie he ordered, the invisible teen starts walking towards his teacher. Tilting his head to the side when he sees Rictor looking across the tables, Jack frowns and follows his gaze. When he sees Teague, Jack just ends up sighing a little. "Hey," he greets Rictor quietly when he gets closer. Instinct telling him he’s being observed, Teague turns his head on his neck to scan the room. He finds Rictor, and watches him for a moment with mild interest. As someone approaches the man, Teague casually turns back to his tea. Bringing the cup to his lips and glancing back out the window, Jack escapes his notice at first. On being spotted as the nosy neighbor at the next table, Rictor blinks a few times and quickly looks away, though for a moment it appears as though he might turn back to Teague and engage him in a more direct form of interaction. That's when Jack arrives. "Oh!" The young man's voice draws Rictor's attention and he looks up and over at his invisible pupil. "Jack, good to see you." He shifts and offers the empty seat across from him. "How are you?" Jack just gives Rictor an unseen look at the comment but nods as he accepts the offered seat. "I'm alright. Just feeling like I'm spinning my wheels with no results," he replies, peeling the paper off his straw. "What about you?" he asks. His gaze trails to Teague for a moment and Jack takes a breath. "You know that guy?" he asks Rictor, gesturing towards Teague with the straw. Teague feigns disinterest, doing his best to seem to stare off or continue to do whatever it was that he was doing. He might have turned to glance over again, were it not for the movement of the straw. He catches it in his peripheral and lashes fluttering, begins to pay more than simply idle attention. Drawing up a hand, Teague gently pushes away his hair from his ear. Rictor doesn't usually make it a habit to stare or force attention on strangers in a coffee shop (though it's happened in Evolve often enough), but given the story he just read and the fact that Teague is still quite visible through the invisible man between them, he can't help it. "No, no," he tells Jack with a shake of his head. "I just thought I recognized him from somewhere." Rictor forces a smile and brings his tea mug to his lips briefly. After drinking some, he changes the topic and asks, "Spinning your wheels on what exactly?"
On the other side of Jack, Teague shoots Rictor another fleeting glance. His expression remains rather stoic, though not necessarily unpleasant, as he tries to place whether or not he recognizes Rictor as well. He doesn’t, of course. He does however, probably succeed in blowing his cover. He is definitely listening in. Rictor gives Jack an understanding and sympathetic nod. "I haven't been able to turn up anything, either," he tells him, cradling his mug to extract the last of its heat. "Something will break it open, though. There seem to be enough people looking into it." With a glance back at Teague, Rictor decides to the break the cycle of furtive looks and speak so the stranger can hear. "I'm sorry for staring before," he says, quite aware that Teague is already honed in on his table. "I think I was just reading about you," he says, lifting his tablet so at least the headline is visible from afar. "Just hope I can help out," Jack mutters. He'd been interested before but ever since running into Dusk and the others here at Evolve awhile back, he's been a little more driven. When he notices Teague looking their way, Jack frowns but what Rictor says quickly gets his attention. "Wait, what?" he asks, looking curiously at the tablet and then back at Teague. “You don’t have to apologize,” Teague answers coolly after a pause, his British accent giving him an undeserved hint of sophistication. Little ever changes about his calm outer shell, but his eyebrows do betray some surprise, “Wait, what?” He turns to look over at Jack expectantly, but his eyes have nothing to focus on. Planting a palm against his table, he slides out of his seat to step over towards Rictor’s tablet. Rictor watches Teague approach and wonders for a moment if he is the same person in the story. After all, it would be one hell of a coincidence if he is. "I could be wrong," he says, holding out his tablet so that Teague can take a better look. He glances over to Jack and raises a brow, but naturally can't glean any response from his reaction, though he assumes there's surprise written there. "A friend forwarded me the article," he explains, waiting to hear from Teague. Jack's shoulders tense as Teague approaches and he leans slightly away from the other mutant. He's keeping an eye on him though. He didn't read the article but the idea there was one surprised him. "What's the article about?" Teague tilts his head to scan over the document, allowing some of his hair to fall out of place and drape over his shoulder. Despite Jack getting his hackles up, Teague appears comfortable with the proximity. He remains loose and his breathing slows as he reads. Holding up his index finger, he gently touches the screen as if to scroll down some, but stops himself. The teen becomes so contained, he may have even stopped breathing altogether for a moment. "Sorry, no," Teague declares as he draws his sultry, heavy-lidded eyes back to Rictor and lies, "It's about somebody else." The teen opens his mouth to explain to Jack what the news story is about, but suddenly can't fight the urge to check over his shoulder. Rictor opens his mouth to say something in response, but thinks better of it and simply says, after a pause, "Of course. I'm really sorry to bug you then." He offers the young man a sincere smile and sips the rest of his tea thoughtfully. Even if Teague were to have been a part of what he just read, what would be the point of conversing about something that probably isn't very pleasant be? Still, he hands the tablet over to Jack so as not to leave him hanging. Jack takes a quick sip of his drink as he waits for a response. The lie gets unseen brows arching and has Jack even more curious about what the article says. He murmurs a thanks when the tablet is handed over and reads silently. "Huh..." he trails off when he eventually reaches the end, glancing up at Teague before handing the tablet back to Rictor. He stays quiet otherwise though, glancing past Teague to see if there's anything behind him. "Of course," Teague mirrors Rictor with a small smile of his own. He slides away from the table and the two men, bringing up a hand to scritch at his tattoo. "If you'll excuse me," the teen trails off breathily. Crossing back to his table, he bends to retrieve a black backpack. His smile fades before he's even slung one of its straps over his shoulder. Without saying a word of goodbye, he maneuvers his way towards the door. During the noticeably awkward exchange between the group of men, Rictor got the feeling that the air in the room had been sucked out, making it hard to breathe. On Teague's leaving, the oxygen suddenly rushes back into Rictor's world and he takes a deep, satisfying breath, exhaling loudly. "Right then," he says, taking back his tablet from Jack and powering it down. "That was unexpected." He starts to pack his things away into a black shoulder bag and tells Jack, "I should be going as well. See you back at school?" Jack relaxes when Teague leaves, letting out a sigh. "I do not like that guy at all..." he mutters, taking another sip of his drink. When Rictor starts packing up, Jack glances over and starts to rise. "Actually, I think I'm going to start heading back myself. Maybe get a little work out in," he says, making sure his hood is still up and not about to fall off. | |
