ArchivedLogs:Parlor Tricks

Parlor Tricks
Dramatis Personae Old-Echo, Micah
In Absentia	13 November 2014 '
Location <NYC> Lower East Side, <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Historically characterized by crime and immigrant families crammed into cramped tenement buildings, the Lower East Side is often identified with its working-class roots. Today, it plays host to many of New York's mutant poor, although even here they are still often forced into hiding. Night has fallen, but the day was so overcast that it's hard to tell. Illuminated by the street lamps, a lone figure hobbles along in the frosty rain. Hunched over under a fringed earthy green shawl, she moves like an elderly person. Quite obviously a street urchin, the folds of her peasant skirt are long enough to swish in the puddles at her feet. The darker color of dampened material is creeping gradually up towards her knees. Echo huddles down under her cover. Shivering, she pauses under an awning to adjust it. A grotesque webbed hand shoots out with practiced swiftness to pull the too-thin fabric back over her face before disappearing back into her clothes. Micah is layered against the cold-wet long before he makes his way out of his parked (large, TARDIS-painted) van, hood up on his Batsignal hoodie which is actually /under/ an olive jacket, all over a blue polo, khakis, and boots. It is a day that apparently calls for a stop by Evolve between Work and Home. He dashes (lopes, really, with a visibly asymmetrical gait) across the street at the first opening from cars speeding by. Passing Echo's awning on the way to his final destination, something about the way her hand shoots out slows his steps, tilts his head slightly in her direction. Echo catches Micah's gaze with an unwavering one of her own. Though slightly shadowed beneath her makeshift hood, the youth in her face is still visible. The other redhead feigns a stumble, letting out a feminine little gasp of surprise. From beneath her petite, huddled form falls a fat dollar coin. Bouncing down the small stoop she's stepped onto, it rolls over in Micah's direction. Stumbling and gasping draws more than simple attention, Micah moving to assist the girl and only drawing up short when she appears to have maintained her own footing. He does stoop to collect the coin when it jingles and rolls toward him, stopping its progress first with a foot. Coin retrieved, he carries it over to where Echo waits. His steps are slow, hand held out with the coin on its flat palm to show his purpose clearly. Even with the kind of day he's been having, he finds a warm smile to offer. "Think this is yours, Miss." Nose twitching, Echo offers the faint beginnings of a toothless smile. She watches Micah approach her with the confidence of a housecat. She barely speaks, mostly mouthing the words, "Thank yuh." Bowing her head, curls escape into view and something pulse-twitches more under her shawl. Echo holds out her open hand, exposing her palm and spreading the pink chipped webs that form between each digit. She dares him to respond with her large, almond shaped eyes. "Yer too kind, sir." “No problem, honey. Pretty much rolled right to me.” Micah takes the open hand as an invitation to enter the stranger's personal space...at least enough to deposit the coin therein. The red curls tug his lips upward again, though he sees no need to comment on any of the unusual features peeking out from hood or sleeve. “S'posed t'freeze t'night, they're sayin'.” It might be the beginning of an offer to obtain the girl a warm drink, or just idle chatter. "If you had 'nother dollar coin in yuh, a girl might buy herself a hot bev'rage tuh keep warm with. On account of the freezin'." Echo fights back a mischievous smile. Her fingers close on the coin and her hand withdrawals back under her bundles of fabric. When she moves, the scent of Jasmine oil wafts up. She uses it to mask the smell of the tunnels as best as she can. "Not much one for carryin' coins. But paper an' plastic'll do much the same job anymore." Micah gestures further down the block in the direction he had been heading, toward Evolve. "Know a place that's got good...coffee, tea, cocoa. Pretty much whatever your hot beverage pleasure might be. An' they're welcomin' there." He only leans on the 'welcome' a little, to imply more than just a general warm atmosphere. Seeming to hesitate, Echo raises her chin in the air some to consider Micah. Whatever is under her hood moves, again. Her accent isn't just Southern hinting, but downright hillbilly. "Yuh done talked me intuh it," the young lady purses her lips, "If they let the likes uh me in at all." What's the harm? She's slipped into establishments to try and beg before. The worse they do is shoo the likes of her back out the door rather than create a scene. ...And it is so cold, tonight. Micah gestures for Echo to walk along with him before leading the way back down the sidewalk. "Shouldn't be a problem, hon. Just from experience, but /also/ I know the owner pretty well." There is a slight twitch of an almost-smirk at that assertion. "They ain't like t'throw anybody out, but especially not payin' customers as aren't like...startin' fistfights or throwin' rocks through windows." Echo saunters down from the stoop and alongside Micah, "Well, now don't go offendin' me with yer presumin'. I can throw a stone with the best of 'em." She smiles closed-mouth, allowing him to open the door for her, "On account of you bein' such a gentleman, I'll try to keep it to a minimum." 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. “Oh, I wouldn't venture t'say y'couldn't. Just imagine y'might find better targets'n coffeeshop windows.” Micah returns the smile, slightly more toothily, holding the door open to allow the young woman to pass in front of him. He also tugs the door to once he's through, attempting to minimize the amount of cold night air following them. There is a short line still at the ordering counter. “Y'got thoughts on what you're lookin' t'drink?” Stepping inside, Echo trains her face to the ground but raises her eyes to scope out around them. "You made the cocoa sound awful good," she answers hopefully. Her eyes are drawn to an obvious mutant passing them buy nonchalantly. It causes her to look back to Micah, possibly trying to distinguish any signs of mutation on him. "It is. I usually order it spiced 'cause that's like...extra warm. An' they have all sortsa milk substitutes if'n y'don't want the cow kind." Micah tugs off his candy corn striped convertible mittens, stuffing them into his jacket pockets. Pulling the hood of his sweatshirt down, as well, doesn't expose any obvious signs of mutation...other than the red hair, but that's likely other than the variety she's looking for. There is also a slight asymmetry to the way he stands and holds his weight, which is more obvious when he moves. Upon reaching the counter he orders himself a cinnamon, nutmeg, and cayenne spiced cocoa with almond milk, before gesturing to Echo for her to list her preferences (either directly to the purple-haired girl behind the counter or using him as a middle-man). "Uhhh. What he's havin'," Echo stammers shyly, baffled by all the coffee jargon. Uncomfortable with the fancy talk and the clean surroundings, she frowns at the purple-haired girl and shifts her weight. Despite having no temperature-related reason to curl in over herself, Echo's own posture has all but totally deteriorated since walking inside. Micah nods confirmation of Echo's order when the barista hesitates briefly at the uncertainty in its original delivery. Paper and plastic are exchanged, as advertised, to pay for the drinks. His brows knit slightly at the girl's shrinking in, taking a chance on (utterly non-threateningly) resting a hand on her shoulder as he guides her to wait nearer the pick-up counter for their drinks. "Secret they don't tell you. S'you can just order drinks like a normal person an' they'll know what it means /just/ fine. All the jargon's just givin' 'em somethin' t'do behind the counter, I'm convinced." Comforted, Echo glides over to where she's led. "I don't think I'd know where'ta begin," she blushes. A long curl escapes in front of her face and she quickly tucks it back. Out of habit, she turns more red checking over her shoulder that no one saw her hand. "Cocoa. 'Bout so big," Micah demonstrates, holding his hands apart to indicate the size of a cup or mug. "Keep it simple. They can ask questions if they need t'know more." Being so close and with his attention focused on her as it is, Micah /does/ notice the more unique features of her hand again. Though, again, he feels no need to comment. The number of equally uniquely-featured individuals casually patronizing the coffee shop might help to explain his lack of drawing attention to the matter. With a deep breath, Echo takes the plunge and lowers her head shawl. Wild, strawberry blonde curls spill out over the shoulders of her blouse as she re-drapes the shawl. Her fins are revealed as well, jutting out sharply to either side. They flap slowly as if acclimating to their new freedom. Turning her chin up once again to appear not to be panicking, Echo clears her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she tries to gauge the reactions around her. Micah gives a small smile as Echo removes the shawl, taking it as a sign that she's a bit more comfortable. His arm does twitch a little in her direction, so conditioned to petting down the twins' fluttering gills that the fin flapping nearly drew his hand to them. Mostly the others in the coffee shop seem to be minding their own business. She may draw an eye or two simply for being a little new and different, but given the proprietor's much...fishier...appearance, at least the regulars have little to be bothered over. For her part, the young woman behind the counter simply delivers the cocoas when they are ready. "What d'you think? Table? Sofa?" Micah gestures over to some of the open seats before collecting the mugs. "Table," Echo answers too quickly. The sofas in the tunnels are disgusting and so, she's a tad biased. She doesn't notice Micah almost move to touch her, preoccupied with the cocoa. It's like seeing a child's face on Christmas morning. Despite more or less choosing the seats, Echo remains a half-a-step behind Micah so as to let him lead the way. "Thank you, again," she bites her lip as she settles into a chair, "This is really very generous of you." "S'one right there," Micah affirms Echo's choice, leading to a nearby table. He sets a mug at each of the pair of seats before tugging the young woman's out for her, then taking his own seat. "Oh, honey, you're more'n welcome. Cup of cocoa don't take much t'share." It certainly sounds more sincere than the platitude that such words often are. Echo smiles shyly. Feeling emboldened, she extends both webbed hands to wrap around the steaming cocoa. Drawing it near and savors a whiff, her smile grows, "Mmmmm!" Turning her attention to Micah to see if he's enjoying his, Echo wets her upper lip in the hot chocolate. As far as talking goes however, she's obviously still going to require more coaxing. Micah gives a little chuckle at the degree of Echo's enthusiasm for the cocoa. He does, in fact, lift his own mug for a small sip. Best to play it cautious while the liquid is still so hot. "I'm Micah, by the way. Seems like if I'm gonna share a table with a person, oughtta introduce m'self." Setting the mug down again, he loosens his scarf and unzips his outermost jacket. Between being indoors and the hot beverage, not /quite/ so many layers are needed. Echo laughs quietly at the introduction, carefully setting her mug down. She treats it like it might be taken away or shatter at any sudden movement. "I'm Echo," she nods, bringing a hand up to nervously toy with a lock of hair. Watching him get comfortable, she waits a moment before checking over both shoulders. "I can do somethin' to pay you back. If you want. Y'know, fer your kindness." "Oh, lovely. Like the nymph? Or the sound?" Not that the two are entirely unrelated. Micah's hands slowly spin his mug in place on the table between sips. "Ohgosh. I meant it when I said y'were more'n welcome. Y'don't need t'feel beholden for no mug of cocoa." A faint, shell-pink blush rises across his cheekbones. Echo giggles at the blush, winking, "If you say so." She tucks the curl she'd been playing with behind her pointed ear, answering innocently, "I don't know." The nymph leans back and cradles the warm drink to her chest, "I s'pose it could be a little a'both." Her fins flit slightly with interest, "You're just the sweetest gentleman that could be, you know that?" “I do, honest.” The giggle or the wink darkens his blush to a rosier hue. “Could well be at that, given the nature of the myth.” Micah's eyes are drawn to the fins' movement, though only in interest of observing them. “Mighta heard the like from m'momma once or twice,” he half-mumbles through a brighter flush, a true red now even to the tips of his ears. Echo reddens more as well, almost as if in response. "Well, you do her proud," She looks down to her drink and back up. "Say, can you get me a glass of water?" Echo perks up, suddenly up to something. Yep, it's ruddy cheeks all around as compliments continue! “S'kind of you t'say.” Micah nods at the request. “Sure can. Is nice t'have a reg'lar drink with your cocoa sometimes. S'delicious, but with all the sugar an' whatnot, ain't exactly thirst-quenchin'.” Standing, he gives another small nod to excuse himself from the table, sliding back through the line to request a glass of water. "It is," she laughs, "It is." Even if this isn't actually for drinking. Watching him go, Echo shifts in her seat and adjusts the draping of her clothes. She fiddles until she's in a perfectly primped pose in her chair. Micah returns quickly, sure as a retriever with a pair of slippers, to slide not one but /two/ glasses in front of Echo. One contains water and the other only ice cubes. “Forgot t'ask if y'like your drinks iced, so...” So both of the options, apparently. Settling back into his chair, his hands are a little /fast/ to seek out the warmth of his mug after holding the cold glasses. Echo laughs, reaching for the glass with no ice and sliding it into the center of the table between them. "Mm'kay," she leans forward on her elbows, pressing her chest forward, "I'm gonna ask you to do somethin' weird but you can trust me." Echo flicks her eyes up, extending her hand out as if to offer it to Micah to be kissed. Instead, it stops to hover over the cup. "I want yuh to touch the water," she lowers a few fingertips under the water's surface, "Like this. Y'see?" One of Micah's brows slips upward toward the shaggy fringes of his hair at that mysterious proposal. There doesn't seem much harm in complying, aside from chilly fingers, so Micah does as he's told. “Okay? What d'we do now?” Echo watches Micah. Once he does as he's told, she concentrates outward. The water in the cup tremors. New ripples form over its surface that aren't caused by their hands. She extends the soothing, rhythmic pulse of her power out through her fingertips. "We take slow, calming breaths," Echo answers in a quiet tone, "Breathe in. And breathe out." "Huh," Micah says...practically /to/ the water as it begins to ripple. A lopsided grin draws out across his lips. "S'this some kinda...water meditation ritual thing?" He's been to college, after all. Run into enough hippie girls that /probably/ that's not much of a stretch in guessing. He's also good at following instructions: deep breath in, and out. "Or somethin'," Echo answers, smiling. "I want you to concentrate on your breathin'. F'rget about everythin' all around us. Cleanse your thoughts ah e'erythin' but that breathin' in. And out." Her eyelashes flutter and she continues to coach him on breathing until the pulse of the water and their breaths seem to match up. ... "Micah, you may not believe me but you're asleep right now. When I count to three, yer gonna wake up. You won't be inclined to remember me tellin' you this but... when y'do wake up, though... yer gonna feel like the smartest, most handsomest, confident man in the world. 'Cause y'are, y'see? And everythin' is gonna work out fer you an' e'erybody you love." ..."One. ... Two. ...Three." Slowly, Echo removes her limp little hand from the glass of water. Cleansing the thoughts haunting his skull today is particularly appealing for Micah, which may only serve to make him more susceptible to the hypnotic influence. His head nods slightly as he settles into a pretty good yoga-breathing rhythm. At the conclusion of Echo's counting, he blinks a few times, looking back up at her with a bright smile and bringing his hand back to cup his cocoa mug. "That was actually pretty...cleansin'. Y'know you'd prob'ly run one heck of a meditation class." Echo tilts her head, smiling, "Naw, just parlor tricks fer me." The nymph finishes her cocoa and gently sets the glass down. Rising, she brings her shawl back over her head, "I got folks who might worry. You take care, now. And thank you, again." “Mmn. Got folks I meant t'bring lotsa warm drinks an' baked goods to back home, as well. Could use some cheerin' up.” Though Micah is smiling well enough. Perhaps he's just the one to be cheering them. “Thanks for sharin' the cocoa...an' parlour tricks.” He slips to his feet as Echo does, not moving to go make yet /another/ order until she is on her way. “Have a good night. Be safe an' keep warm.” Echo smiles, bowing, "You too." Bundling herself up tight she saunters to the door. ...and steals an umbrella from the bucket, there. As far as she's concerned, breaking even is still considered good karma. She disappears into the night.