ArchivedLogs:Mutants in the Park

Mutants in the Park
Dramatis Personae Rasa, Claire, Shane, Kisha	2013-03-14 Tompkins park is where *all* the mutants go.
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Claire's spending her afternoon 'lunch' break with one of her walks in Tompkins park -- mind aflutter with a storm of thoughts. But on the outside, she seems perfectly at ease with her cane, green wool coat, and fancy little hat. Still... the worries gnaw at her. Leave her feeling a little less energetic than usual. The dull ache in her leg becomes a sudden flash; in that instant, her weight bares down stiffly on her cane as she moves, slowly, toward one of the nearby benches. Her expression is clearly pained; she's breathing through clenched teeth with a hiss. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Rasa is out in Tompkins Park as well today, despite the colder wind blowing in and ruining the recent warm spell. Ze is settled on a bench, watching and being away from the craziness that is the Lofts post rescue attempts. Ze is bundled up in loose fitting clothes, winter gear and a fluffy coat ze borrowed from someone else. It really does not fit hir slight frame. Ze is content to sit and watch the people from a pleasant distance and feel the cold wind on hir cheeks, but when ze looks up and sees Claire's hobble toward a bench, ze leaps up - somewhat conditioned to be helpful this week. "Oh goodness, are you okay?" The young metamorph telepath's mind is rather messy, naturally. All of hir wires are crossed and misfire all over the place - hir telepathy tied very closely to hir skin, not just receptively, but in a feedback loop, taking input from hir flesh to hir brain, but then filtering through and mixing up with hirtransmogrificationabilities and spewing everything back out on hir body again. There is no pain, just clutter and teenage woes. Hir hormones are - if Claire can see them - blocked entirely, just shut down andcordonedoff from everything else, at least, keeping that mess in check. Claire doesn't pick up on the subtle nuance of Rasa's mental and physiological state -- not unless it's broadcasted -- but when Rasa comes close, she gets an unusual prickle. Claire's got a knack for picking up on chaos and disorder -- and Rasa probably *burns* with it. At hir approach, the older woman nods, painedly: "Yes, just, ah, knee acting up, little unexpected." Claire's power is always a little 'on', acting passively. But the pain prompts her to intensify the effect -- directing it at herself, trying to get herself to focus through it and get to the bench. But it's a little leaky. Some of it washes out in ripples and waves in her immediate vicinity -- and there's a dull prickle, a sense of /control/ that begins to creep up around Rasa. Rasa is indeed a burning, chaotic thing, but ze is also super helpful. Gloved hands reach out to help the woman find her seat before sitting down next to her for a moment, finding hirself no longer in dire need of solitude. "Did you want me to flag a cab for you?" Ze looks her over quietly and considers. "I really don't think there's much else I can do for a knee ache. Perhaps some painkillers from a local shop?" Ze pops up a little to look to see what is near by. While Rasa appreciates some of this clarity, ze is somewhat oblivious to hir chaos, so doesn't notice much at first. The gloved hands catch Claire's attention -- is it /that/ cold? -- but her breathing soon steadies. She shakes her head as Rasa offers her help; she quickly accepts, leaning just a bit of weight on her pained side down. "No, no cab, it should pass in just a moment. I've got something," she adds to Rasa's final suggestion, and then her hand is darting into her coat, searching. "Thank you," she adds, as they reach the bench -- she settles down with an audible *whump*, followed by a grimace -- producing a small pill-bottle. It pops open; a tablet is produced. She proceeds to palm it, then toss it into her mouth -- swallowing it dry. Grimace. Click, and then the bottle disappears. As she settles down on the bench, she regards Rasa with -- not quite /suspicion/, but obvious interest: "That was very kind of you," she tells hir. The surge of power remains steady; not overwhelming. It's mostly centered on Claire. It doesn't make the pain go away, but it makes it easier to manage. "Oh. I am not from New York." Rasa explains as Claire comments on her niceness. It makes perfect sense to hir. The teen then settles back on the bench a little and relaxes again... but then straightens up again and looks at Claire. "I'm sorry. Here I was sitting without asking if it was okay with you. I'm sorry. Is it okay to sit with you? I feel a little weird leaving someone in pain alone." Ze looks Claire over again, a small wrinkle appearing on hir forehead as ze waits on her response. There is perhaps a tiny shift in the shade of hir skin, as it takes on a metallic bronze hue, but it is a sneaky, slow growth and does not become very noticeable, as the young person could be wearing glittery powder makeup. The comment about not being from New York prompts Claire to laugh -- though she throws in a sly little grin: "Neither am I. But, and /goodness/, please don't tell anyone from here that I said this -- I don't think the natives are half as indifferent as they pretend to be." The whole back-and-forth about sitting down seems to amuse Claire; she notices /something/ with Rasa's skin, but isn't sure what to make of it. Glitter, maybe. Or maybe just the sun. The pain is distracting. "Everyone's in a /bit/ of pain," she tells hir. "But I appreciate a little company. It's fine. You are certainly far too /polite/ to be a native," she adds, before continuing: "Rudeness seems to be a matter of pride, here. Not that I'd know anything about that." She relaxes both her grip on her cane and her power, letting it settle as the pain dwindles to a slow, angry throb. "I will take your word for it. I am not often in the city. I am only here on spring break." Rasa rubs hir hands on hir knees and considers the trees around them as ze relaxes against the bench once more, enjoying Claire's presence. "One of my friends is kind of rude sometimes. He is probably the most New York of us. He dresses really well and has comments that zing, but he's also a good friend, so I don't mind so much." Hir skin stops shifting when ze feels more content and less likely to leak anyway. "I don't know if I know any natives." Claire rubs her knee steadily -- she's settled her cane across her lap now. As she rubs, she looks at Rasa thoughtfully: "Hn. Come to think of it, I'm not sure if /I/ know any natives. I wonder how long you have to live here to qualify...?" Rub, rub. "I find a little rudeness to be tolerable. Like cumin; a pinch adds zest. Too much... blech. How did you meet your friend?" "You have to be born a place to qualify as a native, that's kinda the entire fucking definition of the word." Speak of the DEVIL and he shall appear! In dapper pinstripes and a neat-pressed vest, his black corduroy jacket unbuttoned over top. Shane saunters up from behind to bop Rasa's shoulder lightly with a loosely curled fist by way of greeting. "Too much cumin?" His hairless brows raise curiously at this thought. "I don't know if I've /found/ that limit, I mean, man, Indian food? Cumin up the wazoo. Also pretty much the /most/ delicious. Except I guess all the other foods." Hi? There is no hi. He might as well have been in this conversation the whole while. "This is my friend. I met him at school." Rasa gestures lightly toward Shane when he arrives like a devil. Or - well, just arrives. Devils likely arrive in a cloud of sulfur. Shane is not that stinky. Ze considers Claire's analogy. "He is not like cumin. He has /heat./ Perhaps like cayenne?" Ze turns hir head to study the other mutant with raised brows. "That's a good description, if we are sticking with ground spices." Ze is seated next to Claire, smiling in a relaxed fashion that is rare for hir. Hir skin is also not entirely metallic and yet is not covered in hir thoughts. "Did you need to get out of the apartment for a while too?" Claire's power is subtle, at the moment; just a faint prickle at the back of the neck -- hard to even notice. Thoughts become more structured, more orderly -- there's a soothing sense of self-control and awareness around her. A sense of /focus/. When Shane's flood of cursewords come out behind Claire, the old woman is glancing over her shoulder; when she sees the source, her eyebrow cocks up. Oh, my. "He /is/ a snappy dresser," Claire concludes. And then: "I'm fond of cumin, but I find too much... mmn. Cayenne. I'm quite fond of that. I just realized, we don't even know each other's names...! Claire," she tells Rasa, and then Shane. "Pleasure to meet you both." Shane mostly arrives in a (subtle, admittedly) cloud of cedarwood, it's his current bodywash of choice. "Woahhey you were talking about me?" He brushes at the front of his vest, dusting off an invisible speck of lint. "Holy shit, yeah," he says, leaning against the back of the bench, "it's fucking hectic in there, uh, there was a fight about to break out over bathroom time but Jax kind of stepped in to play peacemaker. I'm supposed to be on a toiletries run. I'm taking the scenic route." One arm still leaning against the back of the bench, he extends his other webbed hand ooover their shoulders to offer a handshake. "Shane. You're cool, I guess?" Probably not in the awesome way. In the taking-Shane-and-Rasa-in-stride way. He's looking to Rasa with this question, even if it's nominally addressed to Claire. "Her knee hurt, so I tried to help her. I think she's nice." Rasa replies to Shane's question. While hir mind may be functioning clearer, hir tangents are still tangential and hir is thinking about what ze wishes to be thinking about with more focus. "I am Rasa. It is nice to meet you." Ze continues to leave hir gloves on. "Ahh. Poor Jax. I half feel like I should send him back to my dorm so he can sleep in peace a night, but that wouldn't work either." Hir voice lilts somewhere between amused and frustrated with the person in question. "'Cool'?" Claire asks, an eyebrow arched -- clearly amused. And at the mention of Jax, and all the things that surround him -- the confusion, etc... she looks a bit more amused. Rasa's mention of her knee prompts a quick: "Rasa, meanwhile, has been thoroughly dispelling the myth of callous, disrespectful, and wholly unpleasant teens." But then, something in her brain 'dings'. After Rasa repeats the name. "Jax, Jax... Jackson? As in, 'Mr. Jackson'? This gentleman wouldn't happen to have three children, would he?" She asks this question politely -- but directly -- to Rasa. "Maybe we should. Kidnap him to your dorm. Get a day of peace." Claire might have asked her question to Rasa but it's Shane who responds, with an amused snort. "Mr. Jax, what. No, Jax like Jackson like my dad. He's got kids out the fucking ears right now but yeah, normally it's three of us." This is less amused, though, eyes narrowing on Claire. "-- You sure this chick's cool, Ras?" He's looking a little wary, and straightening from his lean against the bench. "Oh." Rasa blinks at Shane and considers, lips pressing together. "I haven't really grilled her on anything. Would you like me to?" Ze slips a glove off of hir right hand. Ze is thoughtful for a moment, fingers slipping up into hir hairline to scratch at hir scalp. "We were just sitting and talking and it was kind of nice. I didn't give her any information until you got here and was following your lead on it. Didn't you want me talking to more people?" Ze is somewhat confused by Shane's behavior. "C'est pas vrai, this city is full of odd coincidences --" Claire gets a good helping of stink-eye courtesy of Shane, but she's quick to reply: "'Chick'?" Snort! Then, a bit more softly: "I was asked -- on behalf of another -- to approach your father with an offer of legal aide. Concerning the matter of a ticket, but also on behalf of his children." The removal of Rasa's glove... combined with Shane's suspicious look, and the word 'grilled'. It is subtle, but she tenses. "No. Yes. I don't know," Shane admits with a wrinkle of his nose, "there's just been a /lot/ of people giving my dad shit and he doesn't need -- aide?" Probably these thoughts were not /supposed/ to run together, Jax certainly needs aide. Shane frowns at this though. "No, you're cool, Ras, talking to people is good. I just -- what are you like a lawyer or something?" He's still looking suspicious. "/We're/ fine, the ticket's bullshit though." Rasa reaches out to squeezes Shane's hand with hir gloved hand, wiggling hir fingers back into hir other mitten when hir head stops itching. "You'll have to forgive us," ze says pleasantly, "the world is big and scary and for some reason I forgot that for a little bit." Ze draws in a deep breath. "It is kind of strange that I did forget that." Even softer, now. Claire picks words carefully: "Yes, I'm a lawyer. I help with -- unusual cases. The ticketing was one issue. The other..." Now her /own/ nose wrinkles. This is a conversation she should have with Jackson, not his children. "I just want to make sure your father is fully aware of the legal landscape. And -- if he /wishes/ it, and I am comfortable doing so, I may represent him, and act on his behalf." Then, to Rasa, untensing: "Oh, it's not /that/ bad, I don't think. Just a little confusing, now and then." "Fuck are you on about," Shane says bluntly to Claire, "the world is fucking /terrifying/. People are shitty and it's full of monsters. But." His teeth flash in a quick grin down to Rasa, squeezing hir hand back. "S'good finding places where you can forget about it for a little while." He's stalling, really, turning over this matter of Legal Aide in his mind. "The other what? He doesn't have any shit going on legally except that dumbass ticket." "I appreciate that you wish to help teenagers have a more positive world view, but it's not really a good time to try and reinforce that point. We've just - well, had some rough times recently." Rasa begins speaking cheerfully, but slows as the words that come out of hir mouth sound clearly more well chosen than normal. What might inspire others to have some pride in their thoughts, Rasa simply begins to look distracted. Very softly, now -- so quiet you might not hear her! -- Claire replies: "I prefer not to think of such places as being places where we /forget/, but rather... places where we have won. Where there's no more need for fear. But," she adds, that softness rapidly fading as she takes in what Rasa said -- and eyes Shane more closely: "I'm not here to... oh? Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," she responds, and she sounds quite sincere! "That's probably why I was asked to... hm." Back to Shane, now. Level stare. A bit of a frown: "I was asked to administer a bit of /preventative/ care," she explains. "To ensure that your father is not vulnerable to certain types of... litigation. I shouldn't -- I /can't/ tell you more. It's a conversation I need to have with him. If he wishes, you can be present /during/ that conversation, but it would be... disrespectful to him for me to have it with you, first." "Preventative care." Shane is still not really looking very /trusting/ of all this. He does, however, overhear Claire's quiet reply -- it helps having rather keener than human hearing! "There's nowhere that we've won. I mean, sure, maybe some imaginary future place, but most of us?" His webbed blue hand gestures between himself and Rasa. "Have to live in this real world. The one where I get spit on just for daring to go out in public. Who the fuck asked you to approach him? Why didn't they ask /him/ first?" He is leaning against the back of a bench in the park, Rasa and Claire seated on it. He's -- looking kind of frowny. Rasa transfers hir attention between the older woman and hir school mate. "I did warn you. And I did forget. This park? It's full of people that tried to ticket us once, just for having some fun. If it makes you feel better, I am not in hiding anymore. This is an improvement." Ze shifts in hir seat, attempting to get comfortable. Ze fails in the face of what ze is trying to balance. "I think, Shane, that your dad may have started the process and this bit about being referred is how a lawyer gets assigned a case. It's not like a person calls an organization like the ACLU will find that the first person they talk to is the lawyer that is going to work with them throughout." Ze turns hir attention on Claire. "If you were assigned his case, what is his last name?" "You did warn me. And I'm very sorry to hear that," Claire says, frowning. "You're both asking me a lot of questions -- I understand, and I sympathize, and I know why you're both suspicious. But -- ah, I was not expecting to meet this gentleman's /children/ before him," she adds, apologetically. "Rather, I was just going to knock on his apartment door and see if we could sit down and have a chat...!" To Rasa: "I /am/ glad to hear that you don't feel it's necessary to hide anymore, though. Thank you for telling me that. I don't know his last name -- I'm not here on behalf of the ACLU. I work with them, but I'm only here on behalf of an..." Grimace. "...associate. His name is Mr. Law. He informed me of some of the legal troubles Mr. Jackson may be facing, and asked me to approach him and see if I could help. That's all. If the ACLU gets involved, I might end up handling his case /anyway/. It would be a process." What started out as a brief trip into the big city shopping for electrical goods has since turned into a very Kisha style sprawling tourist trip, the kind which doesn't actually visit many tourist attractions. Slung over her shoulder is a backpack filled to bursting and for inexplicable reasons she's roaming the park collecting soda cans which are stomped and stuffed into a plastic bag. Following the highest concentration of soda cans she seems to be drifting closer, all the while whistling along tunelessly to songs from the Lion King. "S'an improvement," Shane agrees with Rasa. "By far. S'a danger too though." He's straightening, now, and looking at Claire with, admittedly, no less suspicion. He doesn't say anything else on the matter of Jax and lawyers. He just glares for a moment, and then turns away, hands shoved into the pockets of his corduroy jacket. "You can't come to the apartment," is all he /does/ say. His glare focuses on Kisha as he turns away, less out of any animosity towards can-collecting and more because, well, he's already glaring. And she's in his Line Of Glare. Rasa fidgets again, frowning as well when Shane starts glaring. "Yes, going to the apartment is not a good idea," ze agrees at length. "Would you be ammenable to giving me a business card? I will give it to him and he can choose to contact you when he is willing and able." Ze offers a small, sheepish smile. "You have to admit that if you were getting harassed, you'd be less than excited about someone you did not seek out knowing your home address and personal information." Ze starts to get up as well, moving around the bench to stand by Shane. "Do you want to go?" "Of course," Claire responds, at and once, she produces her card -- slim, white, with her name and phone number and business address. "I understand. He's free to contact me at his leisure. Or not at all," she is quick to add, handing the card to Rasa. "I'll leave it to him to approach me, then." She seems to find this amenable; she didn't promise Murphy she'd /push/, only that she'd make contact. Besides, she doesn't like pushing. Kisha gets right to the edge of the bench before finally looking up straight into Shane's glare. "Gah. What? Shit sorry are these yours?" she asks, waving the last can she collected. "This woman isn't propositioning you is she?" Side-stepping to get a better look the teenage inventor spares a moment to nod a greeting to Rasa, then fixes Claire with a curious stare. "Yes," Shane answers Kisha. "Not the cans, the woman. Fuck the cans. She's propositioning my /dad/ actually, which is kind of weirder." He relaxes, slightly, when Rasa moves to stand by him, though only slightly. He's still glaring. He's just not tense. "I /am/ supposed to be getting toilet paper and shit but." He shrugs, and eyes Kisha's cans. "What're you using all those for?" Rasa leans over and takes the card from Claire. "Thank you. I will see that he gets it, letting him know you are an associate of one Mr. Law." Ze takes the card and stuffs it into hir pocket. Once done, ze leans a little closer to Shane. "Hey, Kisha." Claire weathers Kisha's stare well enough -- with a bit of raised eyebrows and a polite smile! -- but she soon turns back to Rasa. "Thank you, dear." She shuffles over on her bench. To make more room for people. In case more people will be joining this... entourage? Kisha tilts her head one way, frowns before finally deciding upon a shrug. "You might have better luck in a public library," she offers politely to Claire. "Why not have them deliver stuff like that to your house? It's easier than fetching it yourself. Although it tends to work best if you have access to a credit card... But anyway... cans? These? Nothing special. I'm uh recycling." "You're a /really/ terrible liar, anyone ever tell you that?" Shane tells Kisha. And then: "You want lessons? Cuz I'm aces at lying about shit." His lean is more like a slouch, a slumping shift of weight that fetches his arm up against Rasa's lightly. "-- Wait, stuff like what, I'm so confused. The library doesn't /have/ my dad." His brows pull together, puzzled. "Rasa, you're kind of too polite. You should say fuck more. This is New York." "I say fuck sometimes." Rasa feels compelled to defend hirself for some reason. "I think it more often and usually that comes out, so why say it?" Ze gives a shrug and looks over at Claire, mouth opening to say something and then hir brow furrows and ze looks at Kisha instead. "You pick up prostitutes at a library? That is... weird. Who thought that up in the first place?" Ze shakes hir head. "No. Claire isn't looking for sex. She is just trying to be helpful, kind of. You probably shouldn't think too harshly of her." Claire raises an eyebrow. She looks... well, like she's enjoying a funny joke. But trying not to laugh at it. "No. I am not currently looking for sex," she reaffirms what Rasa has stated, directing this at Kisha. "And it's fine if you /want/ to think harshly of me. I am sometimes very harsh." Between the three, she seems rather curious: "You all know one another? Classmates?" "Uhm... You said you wanted to buy toilet paper, which is what I suggested you have delivered," Kisha explains with a sigh. "And I can lie perfectly well when I need to, but I just thought what's the point? I'm not doing anything wrong and by the time I get round to doing anything with them my plans will have changed anyway." Rasa's comments about the library elict a smirk. "I didn't mean prostitutes, I just meant men of a certain age. But anyway why would I think harshly of you? I wouldn't say I have enough information about you to make any value judgements as of yet." "My dad is like half her age he's only a couple years older than /me/," Shane says, nose wrinkling, "do you really go to the library to pick up dudes?" This sounds like he is more intrigued than skeptical. "But she can't have my dad anyway he's like /way/ pretti -- er, younger I mean." He's back to eying Claire with a slight frown. "-- If you didn't care about lying properly why lie at all? I mean you could just tell the truth. Anyway I can't order things online our internet is, uh, gone." Rasa shakes hir head and leans a little more against Shane. "Ah. Not prostitutes. Okay. I don't know why I'm thinking about prostitutes." Claire snorts! -- at Shane's comment -- but otherwise does not offer her opinion on just how pretty she is in respect to this Jax character. She is merely listening, quiet and polite, eyebrow raised, cane over her lap. The pain, at least, has subsided; she can likely walk again. Kisha winces at the mention of 'no internet'. "You poor thing," she proclaims. "As for why I didn't just tell you it's because it's not something I'm willing to talk about in front of a complete stranger? Also for the record /I/ don't pick up men anywhere. But for a women over a certain age... Which sounds a little rude now I explain it. No offense intended." "Were you hankering for a prostitute?" Shane asks Rasa seriously, "because I know one although, um, kind of a pricey one." He frowns. His fingers rest on the back of the bench again, drumming there quickly. "Ohhh. S'like that then. I don't have any idea where dykes go around here to pick people up. My dad's club has a ladies' night thing. It's pretty heavy on the -- " He waves a hand towards Kisha, and shrugs. "-- Are you into women?" he asks Claire, like this is Super Relevant. "No, I am good. Thank you." Polite Rasa smiles at Shane a bit and then lets hir face relax as hir gaze drifts back down to the cement. "You want me to go on that toiletries run?" Ze pushes hirself away from the bench stretches a little. "I'm in the mood for a walk." Claire's eyebrows shoot up into the atmosphere at the question. "I see what you meant earlier," she tells Rasa, but it's with a half-smile. To Shane: "I'm afraid that I'll have to plead the fifth, your honor." "Not having an interest in dating men doesn't mean an interest in women," Kisha points out blithely. "Science is my one true love. Claire you do understand that evading the question is likely to be taken as a 'yes' answer. If only to try elicit a response which he finds amusing." "I'm not really taking it as any answer, it was just a question," Shane says with a shrug of one shoulder. "People are into all kinds of things I'm not sure is, uh, being a lesbian funny?" He straightens, shaking out his shoulders in a quick stretch. "A walk alone or you good for company? It's kinda a long /list/ anyway and there'll probably be a riot if we forget something." "I'm good for company. I didn't know how much we were getting." Rasa waits for Shane now, turning back to the other people. "It was nice meeting you, Claire. See you later, Kisha."