ArchivedLogs:Night Wanderings

Night Wanderings
Dramatis Personae Doug, Micah	25 April 2013 Random park-meetings!
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. New York never sleeps. That's what all the songs say, anyway. Even now, as the evening is wending its way towards night, there is the noise of traffic, and people on the street. It's a symphony that never seems to end; only soften more as the night marches on. Here in the park, the noise is well-muted, even here on the edge of the park that overlooks the Village Lofts building. The path is empty, and the number of homeless is even diminished, for some reason. The only person in sight is Doug, sitting on a bench facing the apartment building in snug-fitting jeans and a blue hoodie. His glasses are perched on his nose, the light from his tablet screen reflected in the lenses in an eerie glow obscuring his eyes; particularly the way they flick between the tablet and the apartments. It is officially dark now and starting to get cold... Micah has decided to wrap his Outdoor Time for the night and is walking along a path, singing the thematically appropriate 'Homeward Bound' by Simon & Garfunkel. He is clad in his new unpredictable-Spring-weather uniform of a brownish newsboy cap, olive canvas jacket open over a T-shirt (cheerfully displaying Reading Rainbow-Dash), and colourfully patched jeans. The strap of a messenger bag cuts diagonally across his torso. The song fades as he considers a person-shape that looks somewhat familiar, since he is approaching it from the back. "Doug?" he finally questions, his voice tentative more out of politeness (in case he is incorrect or interrupting) rather than any potential shyness. The sound of someone approaching reaches Doug's ears, but in true New Yorker fashion, it's not until his name is actually spoken that he looks up. The tablet light fades from the lenses, and he squints a bit as he eyes adjust to the light. Spotting Micah, he grins, and lifts a hand. "Hey, Micah," he says cheerfully, tucking his stylus behind an ear and looking in the direction of the Last Known Location of the TARDIS van. "Where are you coming from?" “Hi!” Micah’s voice and features brighten when his suspicion of identity is confirmed. “Just…around.” He twirls an index finger in the air illustratively. “Been wanderin’. Like to be outside. Stretch the legs a bit.” The brim of his hat dips in the direction of the tablet. “You doin’ some late…uh… Okay, actually, y’can be doin’ anythin’ by computer anymore, so I’m not even gonna try to finish that sentence.” "Around?" Doug's tone is amused as he flips the cover closed on the tablet. "That sounds vague enough to be ominous, were you anyone else in the world." He chuckles, and cocks his head, taking in the older man's outfit. "You look like the world's cheeriest newsie," he declares. "Like Christian Bale was assaulted by the Care Bears." It's a gentle tease, and the blonde slides to make room on the bench, should Micah opt to sit. "I was on my way home from coffee with a friend, and thought I'd take a few minutes out here before I went up. I was just checking on a couple of websites I do coding for, before the weekend traffic." “Eeyup. Full on maunder-about mode. So…parkish. I know, I’m terribly specific, but I wasn’t much /doin’/ so much as /bein’/. Aaand this is where someone yells somethin’ about hippies at me, usually.” Micah’s lips turn up in a smirk. “See…I know what you’re referin’ to, but I’m still imaginin’ Care Bear stares vs. Batman.” He tips his hat to Doug theatrically, seeing as it has been a topic of conversation, prior to slipping onto the bench. “Quiet time outdoors is nice. Think people’d be a lot less wound-up if they tried it more.” "Hah. I would actually like to...wait, I /have/ seen that," Doug says, scrunching his nose. "Sort of. In a video. It did not end well for Batman." He grins, and rolls his shoulders. "And hippies are fine, when they don't stink of body odor and patchouli." He grimaces. "You do /not/ want to be pressed up against /that/ in the subway, let me tell you." He chuckles, although there's no smile when Micah continues. "I'm out here because it's /not/ quiet," he says. "My apartment is like a fucking tomb, most nights. Unless I've got music going." He waggles fingers in the air. "So, I come outside, and get a dose of city noise to keep from feeling like some nerd stereotype." He lifts his eyebrows. "Speaking of which, did you ever make it to the Expo?" "Well, I'm not sure we /want/ to see what happens when Batman really gets in touch with his /feelings/." Micah jokes with a slight crinkling of his nose. "I work in medicine, you aren't gonna be able to scare me with descriptions of smells. An' patchouli's kinda nice. Earthy. Reminds me of dorms, in a pleasant way." The smirk slides away as he scrunches his lips to one side, while Doug continues to speak. "I didn't mean quiet," he explains, /both/ index fingers spinning while pointing to the sky now, "I meant /quiet/." One of the finger tip settles against his temple. Taptap. "But, nah, I didn't get the time before it went all /military/." Doug wrinkles his nose. "But wouldn't getting in touch with his feelings result in a well-adjusted Bruce Wayne, and therefore /negate/ his need for vengeance?" Nerd mode has been switched on. "Which would make Batman's /greatest/ foe a competent therapist, if you think about it." He grins, and lifts a shoulder. "It's never quiet like that, in my head," he says. "I feel bad for Hive, because I bet I drive him crazy, sometimes." He frowns when Micah explains missing the expo, and raises an eyebrow. "I've got some pictures of some of the stuff," he says. "I can send them to you when I get back inside." There's a lift of eyebrows. "But be glad you /didn't/ go, honestly. It wasn't nearly as carnival-like as a Stark Expo. Which seems appropriate, since Doctor Doom does not seem like a carnival guy." “Probably. But that doesn’t make for very entertainin’ comics, now does it? Therefore, not what we want to see. Also, sad-tearful Batman…then no longer Batman.” Micah shakes his head more solemnly than the subject matter really warrants. “Good to figure out how to shut off your head sometimes. Helps y’step back. Get clarity. And /then/ bounce back into full ADD mode.” He starts giggling at the mention of Doom. “I still can’t get over that name. Also, how carnival-ly can you be when you’re a large, robotic Grouch?” "Tearful Batman would be a pretty boring read," Doug agrees, bobbing his head. Then he grimaces. "Maybe I'm explaining it wrong," he says, wriggling fingers at his temple. "It's the quiet that drives my brain /in/ to that ADD mode. I start thinking about my game, and then about this and then that..." he grins. "That's why I work on stuff in places like coffee shops and parks. Because the noise actually helps me concentrate. Like, if my brain is trying to translate stuff I can barely hear, I can focus the rest of my attention on the task in front of me." He lifts a shoulder. "That's not quite right, either. But it's as close an explanation as I can come up with." When Micah giggles, he adds his own chuckle, shaking his head. "I should bop you one," he says without heat. "I've had that damned song stuck in my head all week. But yeah." He snorts. "When he walked away, he sounded like that cargo lifter in Aliens." He makes hydraulic noises, and moves in a robotic fashion. Micah nods, offering a half-smile. “I kinda get it. Which is prob’ly pretty good for a close-to-explanation.” He pats at his arm, just below the shoulder joint, in a playful sort of offer. “Oh, go ahead. I’m constantly gettin’ songs stuck in other people’s heads an’ bein’ entirely unrepentant about it. Like as not deserve someone gettin’ back at me for it eventually.” A thread of laughter weaves its way through his speech. “Ugh…poor guy. That sounds like an incredibly inefficient construct, from a movement standpoint. Have to wonder at the whys behind it.” Doug lifts a hand when the arm is offered, but the slap is weak; barely a tap against the coat sleeve before Doug is moving it to rub at his face. "Because the suit's intimidating as hell," he says with a nod. "He was having what I think he considered a polite conversation, and I was still wetting my pants. More, when I saw how casually he shifted a robot from musician to assassin and back." He shakes his head. "I hope Jax kept that girl away from the Expo," he says. "She was kind of obnoxious, but in a likeable sort of way." His grin slips lopsided. "She had some real cajones, the way she was asking him questions." Micah nudges his shoulder into Doug’s, seeing as it /is/ right next to him, with that sad-bap. Like a ‘better luck next time’. He is still wearing that little half-smile. “Seems an odd thing to shove oneself to the far end of the encumbrance table just to be more /intimidatin’/. I mean…he’s kind of the despotic leader of a small country with apparent heaps of genius and piles of military-grade tech at his disposal. Who needs to be clangy on top of it? Gotta be more behind it than that.” He does start chuckling at the description of the girl. “Sounds like a real spitfire, that one. I hope she’s keepin’ herself safe.” "Protection," is Doug's immediate answer for the question. "And convenience, believe it or not. A suit like that is bulletproof, I would imagine. Maybe all kinds of things proof. So, there's that. And the way it was hissing and moving, I would be willing to bet there's some sort of computer system in there. Like a walking iPhone, only with a better OS." He tips his head in a non-shrug, reaching up to push his glasses further up his nose. "She seemed smart enough that she would recognize the danger," he says. "And I have faith in Jax that he'd do his best to keep her safe, in any event." “Hm…I suppose. Just seems like a lot, sacrificin’ mobility an’ typical interpersonal interactions in that way. Remind me never to be the leader of anythin’ if I ever forget it’s not my thing.” Micah gives a quick headshake, as if this were a legitimate /concern/. “Yeah, I’m sure she’s got plenty of folks lookin’ after her now.” "I think you have to be born with that kind of drive," Doug says, scrunching his nose. "Especially if you're wanting to take over your country. Luckily, my ambition doesn't stretch that far." He grins, and leans back, draping his arms over the back of the bench loosely. "Seems like a good school," he says, with a nod. "I've looked at the front gates for seven years, and never knew how good it was." He cocks his head, and shrugs. "Found out about scholarships after I graduated," he says in mock-despair, lifting a hand dramatically to place it against his forehead. Then he's dropping it with a grin. "But I know Jax, and a couple of students up there, and they make it sound like a good place." His gaze goes sidelong, taking in Micah. "How's work going?" “Yeah, /definitely/ remind me it’s a bad idea if I ever get in a conquerin’ mood,” Micah continues, just to be silly. “It does seem like a nice set-up. It’s good that they have it. Someplace good an’ safe. An’ quiet an’ mostly secret. Prob’ly all for the best…” He trails off, a bit distracted-thoughtful. He snaps back at the question. “Oh, quite well. Which is to say busy. But that is the goal, after all. Got a couple of institutions keepin’ me on hand on the regular, which makes things run nice’n fast. Somethin’ to be said for offerin’ folks convenience, I s’pose.” One of his hands wanders to adjust his hat slightly. "You'd never get the armor to move," Doug teases, poking the redhead in between his shoulder blades. "Then I could just run up and tip you over, and the war is won." He lifts his hand to twirl a finger in the air. "And there was much rejoicing." He makes a dull-sounding 'yay' noise, and grins. "That's good!" he says earnestly. "That you're busy. Good money, and you're helping a lot of people." He wags a finger, and closes one eye knowingly. "You'll be in the black and in an actual apartment in /no/ time." He lifts his eyebrows. "Of course, I'm also happy to go out with my bat and knee cap some people, if things get slow for you." “Ohno. Insurgent leader tippin’! That would be terribly embarrassin’,” Micah asserts between giggles. “It /is/ gettin’ more liveable. All accordin’ to the one year plan.” Snickering, he shakes his head at the offer of inducing injuries. “Oh, no, that’s a terrible idea.” He pauses for effect before adding, “Those sorts of injuries aren’t likely to need a whole lot of help from me. Prob’ly could get standard crutches from hospital stock. Might could need a supportive knee brace in /some/ cases, I guess…” "I could probably get a machete on the internet," Doug says thoughtfully, closing one eye. "Although, I don't know if I have it in me to pick up the Voorhees legacy." He grins, and stretches. "I guess you never know until you try, right?" His eyes crinkle, and there's a quacking noise as he opens his mouth to speak. Which is unsettling, and the blonde closes his mouth, listening. A moment later, another quack, and he smiles as he reaches into his hoodie pocket and extracts his phone. "Oh, hey, I probably should go," he says, his voice going a bit smoky as he reads the screen. "I have to meet a guy about a thing." The glance he throws Micah's way is only /slightly/ guilty. "It was good seeing you," he says. "Without the awkward." Micah chuckles softly. "Okay, okay. Enough of the really terrible ideas, then." He pats Doug's shoulder and...then there is quacking. "You've got quacks. In your pocket," he offers with a glance at the pocket. As if there might be /ducks/. Doug's explanation earns a nod and a smile. "Well, I hope it is a fun, useful, and/or productive thing. Take your pick...any or all of the above." The patting hand shifts slightly to provide the shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Good seein' you, too. Have to do it again sometime. Have a good night!" He takes to his feet again, ready to set said feet back to his abandoned path. Doug grins, and winks. "I'm hoping for fun," he says as he also gets to his feet, twisting his back with a popping sound. "Good thing I'm caught up on my homework, huh?" He crinkles his eyes, and tips fingers to the edge of his glasses. "We'll definitely do it again," he says with a bob of his head. "You still owe me a tour of the Stark Tower." Then he's waggling fingers. "I'd better scoot, if I'm going to catch the train before they stop. See you later!" There's another wave, and then Doug is scurrying off, across the street and into the subway entrance, leaving Micah to himself and his night wanderings.