ArchivedLogs:Optimism

Optimism
Dramatis Personae Regan, Charlie Torres, Daken, Anette	16 March 2015 '
Location <BOM> Common Room - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
The common room's rustic-lodge feel has been somewhat mitigated by the modern amenities inside its sturdy wooden walls. It has comfortable couches, several chairs, a refrigerator (stocked with snacks and drinks!), a pool table, a pinball machine (METALLICA!), an assortment of books, a television -- with several game systems! -- and a splendid view out the windows (when their lacy yellow curtains are drawn open) for the rest of the island. The pale wood floors have been covered in places -- by a pair of soft thick blue rugs, by a large squishy pair of beanbags that stand in front of the stone fireplace. There's also a board up on the wall, half corkboard, half whiteboard, with a variety of community notes (and occasional insults) to other Brotherhood members. Large doors on the right-hand side lead off to the kitchen and dining room. In the back of the room, the council room's heavy oak door bears solid locks that are almost never actually barred. A short hall adjacent to the council room's door leads to a trio of multi-stalled bathrooms; these might once have been marked with the typical man-woman-handicapped signs, but someone has given them new plaques on the door; a stick figure with horns and a long tail, one with wings. One -- the large single-user toilet -- has instead been given a helmet and a cape. Nighttime around the island is -- never /quite/ quiet. Especially not with the temperatures climbing, as they have been, people using the warmth as an excuse to shake off the cabin fever that grips everyone by the end of winter. There's music coming -- not from /inside/ the lodge but from out. Someone is playing drums; someone else has a guitar out, there's singing in Spanish in a deep gravelly bass. Fire, somewhere. Hopefully actually in a fire pit but who ever knows. Conversation, loud and raucous jostling amiable elbows with the singing. The smell of roasting vegetables and roasting meats; dinner is being cooked outside, today. With the windows of the lodge open the singing drifts inside together with a cool nighttime breeze. It's quieter in here, by a little bit. Regan hasn't been joining in the evening-time relaxation. She's entering the common room not from outside but from the council room, looking a little bit frowny, a little bit pinched. She looks somewhat springlike, at least, strappy low-cut pale-green tank top underneath a gauzy sheer white blouse, slim fit pale jeans, ankle boots. Her expression relaxes into neutral as she parts ways with the large four-armed man who exits the room with her, heading for one of the windows to rest her palms on the windowsill and look out at the evening. Charlie hasn't /quite/ made it to the dinner festivities, yet. She did manage to get herself assigned to garden work and has been availing herself of rather a great deal of "playing" in the dirt today. As such, she is making her way back out of the bathroom (apparently horn and tail is the signifier of choice for the hare-girl, at least today) with still-damp fuzzy hands and equally fuzzy, large feet bare. The boots found a more appropriate place outside to avoid mud-tracking and she seems to have cleaned up well. Just a bit of a smudge here and there on her green corduroys and cream-and-blue blue long sleeve ringer tee. The friendly-festive sounds and smells drag a little half-smile onto her lips as she ponders where to stop next. Daken enters from the kitchen with an apple in his hand. Tonight he is dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a loose fitting Nirvana shirt, he's clearly been outside helping. He makes his way over and settles into one of the chairs, crossing one leg over the other as he gets comfortable. His gaze moves from Regan towards Charlie, a grin tugging at the side of his lip, "What's up doc?" The question doesn't seem directed at anybody in particular as his attention soon falls to the apple in his possession, which he takes a bite out of. Regan glances up from the window at the sounds of footfalls, blue eyes flitting over first Charlie and then Daken. A small hint of smile touches her lips -- briefly -- then fades away. "How are we looking for getting started with planting after the snow is gone?" One eyebrow hitches up at Daken's greeting. She turns fully aside from the window, leaning back against the windowsill rather than bracing her hands on it. "Certain. This many hands have made good work of it. Just need the snow to clear and the frosts to let up, yeah?" The talking decides where to go /for/ Charlie, as she approaches Regan to keep from needing to yell across the room. Daken just earns a half a sideways look...that particular greeting not deemed worthy of more response. "Think things should go well once planting comes around, too." "And assuming everyone pitches in when it gets hot too, we'll be set." Daken says with a slight nod, taking another bite from his apple before he looks towards Charlie. "{No offense, yeah?}" he says in Spanish, before switching back to English. "Last thing I need to do is piss somebody off today." "If you don't want to piss anyone off, have you considered not saying aggravating things?" /Both/ Regan's eyebrows have lifted, now, her very-small-smile returning and a faint glimmer sparkling in her cool blue eyes. "It's certainly not going to cover /all/ your bases, but I find it's often the simplest first step to take." Her legs cross at the ankles, weight shifting up against one hip on the windowsill. "Everyone will pitch in. Everyone always does. The /weather/ -- is being less accommodating. But it'll come around, too." "Oh me, I'm not pissed off. Offense, though. Right to the sense of humour." Charlie tsks, rather more impressive for the air sucking between /her/ front teeth. "At least gotta try for something /original/ to say, you gonna go for the obvious to comment on." The girl pulls up a little taller to stretch her spine out after all the ground-working outside. "Seriously don't think getting work done is going to be a problem. It's a good group for it." "Could have definitely been worse." Daken replies, sitting up all the way. "Just realized that may have been used as an insult at one point." A tired sigh turns into a yawn, hand blocking view of his face for a moment. "Anywho, how has it been going?" "This place wouldn't function if everyone didn't do their part." Regan's head turns, tipping slightly at a particularly noisy burst of exuberance from outside. "Everyone earns all their partying." The question turns her attention back inward. Her hands drop back to her sides, palms pressing down against the edge of the sill. "I was thinking to ask you both the same. Have you been settling in, alright?" “S'how a place like this should run. Seems to be doing a good job of it before I ever got here, anyhow.” Charlie smiles, giving a little nod. “You want someone on growing things long-term, I'm down for it. Could make anything grow anywhere, little apartment and rooftop gardens we used to have. Tomatoes make you /weep/ they so delicious, peppers make you weep for entirely different reasons. Brought seeds up from my last peppers. Couldn't let those go.” She leans against the back of a couch, half-sprawl. “Settling in more than fine. It's some good people you pulled together, here. Dusk kind of a sweetheart, yeah?” A bit of a grin tugs at her lips again as she pulls a licorice twig chew stick out of her pocket. Cherry, this time, to worry at her teeth. “I been into the city. Visited at that Evolve place. Crazy, being able to take all my hood and scarf off out in a /shop/, you know? We don't got like that back home.” "Chores tend to rotate -- but that's largely when there's nobody who /wants/ a position more permanently. When someone has a love or particular aptitude --" Regan turns up a hand, her smile easier. "If you /wanted/ to take over heading up the garden organization it would be welcomed. And there's /plenty/ of us here who'd definitely welcome whatever fire you plant, too." In pepper form. The warmth in her eyes grows at the mention of Dusk; it puts a chuckle in her voice, as well. "More than kind of. All heart, really. But there's a lot of people here who --" Another glance, towards the open window, towards the sounds of music and laughter and /family/ drifting in from outside. "Good people. I wouldn't trade them, anyway." Her glance flicks back to Charlie. "Home -- that was Maryland, yes? There's not many places like Evolve /anywhere/, I'd think. New York has the particular blessing -- and curse -- of attracting a lot of us. In other cities here and there you find places that are welcoming -- /quietly/, underground, furtive. It's hard to be so open. They got bombed for it, once before." Daken pushes to his feet, reaching up to tip a hat that isn't there. "You guys take care. I need to go check on something, but we'll have to speak again." The last bit is obviously directed towards Regan, but then he's out. "Have a good one," Charlie offers with a half-wave as Daken heads out. "He an odd duck, that one. Leastaways today he talks something /other/ than killing people. Maybe he had himself in a mood before." She chuckles at the mention of the peppers. "Excellent. I'll be good and plant them off well separate from any other peppers you're growing. Not sneak up any bite on people as ain't expecting it, things going hybridised." The hare-girl's lips /twitch/, a bit of amusement at the response to mentioning Dusk. "S'good folks, for sure... And, yeah, I came up from Baltimore. It's more like you say there. We put together places but it ain't no /shop/. Hide-outs more like. Some basement." The chewstick twitches in her mouth at the mention of bombing. "Too much of that, too. Looked...different there, though. Some tough guys hanging around. Some /cops/ even, surprise the hell outta me." Anette passes Daken on his way out, giving him a quick grin as she enters the room. She grins at the sight of Charlie and Regan. "Ooh, life around these parts. Good, maybe I'll come around more often." She removes her jacket, revealing the wings underneath and plops down on a couch, spreading her wings out comfortably. "So what's everyone up to? I feel like I've been out of the loop, haven't heard any news about anything for a while." "Evolve's owner has been pretty /enterprising/ with its protection. He offers free coffee to the police on the Freak Squad. To the guards at the Mendel Clinic. To Kay and Ion and their motorcycle club. To half of /us/ who he's met through a weekly sparring club he set up." The curve of Regan's smile is definitely /approving/. "It is far cheaper than paying the salary of actual security and it ensures that the cafe is generally always frequented by the type of mutants it's -- just not worth anyone's time to start trouble around." Regan lifts her chin in greeting to Anette, brows lifting as well in faint puzzlement. "Life? There's -- always life around here." Once again her eyes drift back to the open window, which is still letting in the smells of roasting food and the sounds of exuberant conversation, singing, drumming, guitar, from the dinnertime merriment going on outside. "Though definitely more when /food/ is available than between meals. Right now, we're up to dinner." "So much life around, yeah," Charlie adds with a certain fondness. "I'm up to just getting in from prepping the fields but not quite into the dinner crowd just-yet. Not much for news, though, I just rolled up a week ago. Charlie." This and a lifted hand come by way of introduction to Anette. "Kid's got a for-reals fight club going on? On top of running a freak cafe? This one interesting little shark. Good to have places like that, though. /Should/ have. Not just skulking around all the time, when all you want to do is buy some smokes or a coffee." "Well, maybe I just have the bad luck of only showing up during slow hours," Anette shrugs. She also doesn't seem too interested in the food being prepared. "Meh, I just ate. I'll probably stick around though. Don't have anything better to do." She glances over to Charlie, giving her a grin as she leans up against the couch, wrapping her arms behind her head. "Figured you were new. Thought if I'd seen you before, I'd probably recognize you. Still, nice to know another animal. Though if I remember correctly, owls and rabbits don't usually have the best relationship. Still, welcome to the club and feel free to ask questions. Most of us don't bite." "Slow hours?" Regan exhales a quiet laugh. "You say that like we're running a business, here. This isn't a club. For most of us it's just home. And it's full of as much life as any home -- more," she says, fondness in her own tone as she listens to the deep-voiced singing from outside, "than most. Friday nights," she adds to Charlie. "There's a safehouse of ours not far from Evolve. That's where the fight club happens." "You hang out middle of the night, maybe people are sleeping more," Charlie puts forth her best guess with a shrug. "Yeah, new. People might've seen me around sometimes before. I recognised a few folks when I got here. My uncle, Burn, he'd been on this scene a long time...just usually not up this way so much." A puff of air pushes past her cheeks, smelling of cherry from her chewstick. "That's 'cause rabbits pretty much just nature's french fries. Cheap mass produced food, not good for much else. Hare," she adds by way of clarification, gesturing kind of at her chest and chin region to indicate herself. "Meaner and /way/ harder to catch. Put up a damned fight if you do." Regan's information earns a little 'huh'. "Might have to check it out sometimes. Good to throw /friendly/ punches now and then, you know?" Anette smirks with a shrug at Charlie's explanation between rabbits and hares. "Whatever. Cute and fluffy with big ears. Still, any spunk or fight in you can't be bad. We can always use a new batch of attitude." She nods along to Regan's mention of fight club. "Yep. Absolute blast and you never know when it'll come in handy. Been to a few myself and I've been meaning to show up more regularly." Regan's eyelids lower to half-mast, a quiet thoughtful hum in her throat as Anette speaks. Her fingers drum lightly against the windowsill. "Well," she finally says, "I'd certainly recommend it. We have the training room here, of course, and there's plenty of people around who are willing to spar -- I want everyone to stay in the best shape they can -- but there's something entirely different about an environment where the whole roomful of people is there. Cheering you on. Helping out with feedback after. And a wider range of people to go toe to toe /with/ is never bad for keeping your edge." “You try and get yourself a pet hare. See how well that goes.” Charlie's brows just lift slightly with that, hand moving to turn the chewstick in her mouth. “All sounds like a good plan. My uncle, he trained me up fighting ever since I come up knee-high. Don't necessarily have so much /variety/ except for what random people give /cause/ to fight them otherwise, though, huh. Always good to have an edge.” Anette nods slightly. "It's always nice to get space with a little...headroom. Not very often I get the chance to stretch my wings. Not as good as Central Park in the middle of the night but...well, I'm not so willing to risk that anymore." She yawns and kicks her boots off, putting her feet up on the couch and stretching out lengthwise. "So, Playboy...out of curiosity, what made you decide to join our little family?" Just in case it wasn't clear who she was referring to with 'Playboy', she looks directly at Charlie as she says it. Regan's eyes close all the way. Her hand lifts, fingers pinching slightly at the bridge of her nose. "Do /you/ want dinner?" she finally asks Charlie, with a nod towards the door. "Seems like well patrolled public parks maybe not the best place, no," Charlie agrees easily with that. "Still getting your long-ears twisted, Birdie." Her nickname comes largely from not having an actual name to employ yet. "I been hooked in for years now. Like I said, my uncle been hooked in at /long/ time. He wanted me to wait 'til I was older to be involved, teenager and all, you know?" The hare-girl's chewing becomes a little more agitated. "Had a mission go bad. Cop got off a lucky shot, there goes what family I had back home, right. So I came up here." Her tension eases a little at the question. "Yeah, I should get while there's getting. All these famine-faces, might miss out, dawdle too long. You want I should grab you something? Grill just smells /good/." "Yeah, well...I've never been one for rules I felt I could easily avoid punishment for breaking. It used to be pretty easy avoiding cops, owl eyesight and hearing helps with that. But since all this business with explosions and registration...it's not worth sneaking around anymore. The name's Anette, by the way. Or Athena, depending the context." Anette takes her jacket and throws it over herself as she continues listening to the rest of Charlie's background story. "Can't blame your uncle for making you wait. We're a fun bunch but we're a fun bunch who end up in sticky situations more often than not." She lifts a wing and drapes it over her head as she makes herself comfy, blocking out most of the light. "You guys go on and get dinner. I'm gonna catch a quick catnap myself." "Perhaps we'll see you after." Regan's head tips to Anette as the woman gets comfortable on the couch. She heads for the door, herself, holding it for Charlie. "No, I'll come. I think I'm in a mood for music, with my kebabs. If we're /really/ lucky there's even still stout." She can hope, anyway. “Goodnight,” Charlie offers to Anette before following after Regan. “An' thanks. Music's always a good. Got some optimism worked up on the drinks.” The twitch of Regan's smile is brief. Easily missed, if looking at her lips; less so if looking at the warmth in her eyes as the mild night air washes in. "I'm thinking it's a night for optimism."