ArchivedLogs:Regular People Kinda Magic

Regular People Kinda Magic
Dramatis Personae Jax, Steve	2016-02-05 "{Though there is plenty that makes winter bearable anyway.}"
Location <NYC> Clinton
Despite its rough and tumble reputation of old, Clinton has come far from the illegal gambling and shakedowns of Prohibition, and the gang warfare of West Side Story. Clinton has now become the industrial supply center for midtown Manhattan, with hospitals and the light industrial and commercial businesses required to support so many thousands of people. The neighborhood has become quite expensive, but many actors still cram together in small apartments due to its proximity to Broadway. It's a cold, clear night, and even within Manhattan's bright halo a keen eye might detect a few stars in the sky. The restaurants in Hell's Kitchen are doing good business, considering recent events, though they are beginning to empty out as patrons hurry from their meals to their shows further east. Steve slips out of an unassuming little basement Thai restaurant. He's dressed in a navy peacoat over neatly pressed charcoal slacks and glossy black oxfords. The knit scarf wound around his neck is red-and-white striped, with a prominent white star inside a blue circle at each tasseled end. Pausing just outside, he holds the door open and looks up wonderingly at the sky, his breath fogging in the air. Jax trots up the stairs after him, buttoning up a long overcoat as he heads out into the cold. The cuffed wide legs of a pair of cheerfully bright yellow trousers are visible beneath the bottom of the coat, a similarly cheerful yellow pork-pie hat (with blue feather tucked into its black band) perched on his head, shiny black-and-white saddle shoes. He winds a blue scarf around his neck as he joins Steve outside, bouncing a little on his toes. "Oh! Oh gosh. {I was too --} complacent in there. {I don't think I was actually ready again for cold.}" Steve's chuckle is quiet, more visible in the white puff of condensation than audible. He stretches out an arm for Jax, but then drops it back to his side. "{I was never ready for February, growing up,}" he replies in Spanish. "{Got sick, every year.}" He lets the door shut behind Jax and takes the stairs up to the bustling sidewalk. "{How were winters back home treat you? Does the altitude or latitude win out?}" "{Oh, it gets pretty cold up in the mountains. The snow isn't like this, really, I mean -- it snows and then all melts away but -- it sleets and freezes and everything's covered in ice for ever.}" Jax's noise wrinkles up, his head shaking. "{I don't hate it because of not be used to it, I just hate it because --}" He shrugs, grinning bright as he winds his scarf around his neck again. "I'm a terrible wimp. Guess the sick ain't so much a problem no more. I used t'/tolerate/ winter jus' fine but it's awful these days." Not that his smile's faded any. His shoulder bumps Steve's just lightly before he starts trotting down the crowded pavement, steps weaving with the habitual ease of a long-time city-dweller. "{Though there is plenty that makes winter bearable anyway.}" "{Used to it or not, disliking the cold doesn't make you a...} wimp," Steve says. "{The cold doesn't get to me like it used to. The only time I've been sick since the experiment was...just recently. The plague.}" Though here he adds, very mildly, "{I still hate winter.}" As they walk, the street seems to be growing /more/ crowded rather than less, as might be expected at this hour in this part of town. "{Used to it or not, disliking the cold doesn't make you a...} wimp," Steve says. "{The cold doesn't get to me like it used to. The only time I've been sick since the experiment was...just recently. The plague.}" Though here he adds, very lightly (almost /too/ lightly), "{I still hate winter.}" As they walk, the street seems to be growing /more/ crowded rather than less, as might be expected at this hour in this part of town. "{Oh, plenty.} Christmas, snowball fights, curling up beside a roaring fire..." Pale blue eyes flick over to Jax, lingering on him fondly, if briefly. "{Spring is great.} Jax's voice is light, brightly cheerful though his gaze lingers a moment longer than necessary on Steve at that too-light proclamation. He slows as the street grows more packed, dropping back a little closer to the other man's side. For a brief moment a small uncertain frown furrows his brow, though it clears quickly. "{Snowball fights are pretty excellent.} Horus and the kids were sledding on your shield. {Oh! And there's cocoa. And the way the moon looks on snow. And getting to layer awesome thigh high socks and tall boots and fleecey tights and skirts and /oh/ --,}" His steps have just a /little/ more bounce to them, his smile just a little brighter, "{-- Ice castles, I like /those/.}" "{I like spring, after the rains are done. Washes the city clean.} Flowers pushing up through the cracks in the pavement..." A faint smile curls Steve's lips and he blushes, just a little. "{I've only ever been in one ice castle, but it was quite nice.}" His eyes skip between several of the more bundled-up passers-by. There's a certain /furtive/ quality to their movements, and even more than the average amount of compulsive glancing at smartphones. Steve removes his hands from his pockets as they stop at a crosswalk. When he glances at Jax this time, it's with a slight furrow of his brows. Jax's slight frown returns as well, his posture just a little tenser once they stop. There's less fidget in him, head tilting as his gaze sweeps the gathering people around them. Flitting from faces to phones and then back. His own hands dip to his pockets, and he sidles up closer to Steve, jaw just a little too tense and shoulders just a little too taut to be entirely casual. "{Spring in the city's its own kind of special. Spring back home, though --}" For all the protective shift of his posture, his voice is still just light and easy. "{You should see the mountains.} S'just a riot of colour /everywhere/." "{Covered in ice or covered in flowers, I'd love to see those moutains of yours.}" Steve's jaw tightens momentarily. His stance shifts, dropping fractionally lower. "{It'd be nice to not constantly have to...}" A pedestrian waiting near them puts away the phone she had been staring at for several seconds, and starts unbuttoning her long black coat. The shape of the sword she's carrying is visible beneath its fabric, but that's not extraordinary in itself, these days. The fact that she's reaching to /draw/ it right now, however, is. Steve eyes follow her steady gaze to a man on the other side of the intersection, also reaching reaching into the flap of his coat for a weapon yet unseen. The light changes. Steve takes a step into the street -- in front of Jax, but not blocking his sightlines -- and plants his feet, lowering his stance. Phone screens are blinking off all around them, coats thrown open or off to reveal /other/ lights. "{It's been a long time since I got home to see my family. I was thinking maybe ask Joshua if --}" But Jax breaks off here, too. There's a very faint quiver in the air around him briefly as Steve steps off the curb. He stays on it, shifting automatically to put his back to the taller man's, eye still scanning the crowd. "... ain't quite the kinda dancin' I was hopin' for tonight." His voice has dropped to a very low murmur. From beneath her coat, the woman near them draws -- a bright blue white lightsaber prop. Steve blinks. Looks at the man on the other side of the intersection, who has -- sure enough -- pulled out a /red/ lightsaber. Dozens of other pedestrians near them are doing the same thing, some of them donning hooded cloaks and masks, as well. The duelists facing each other across the street charge toward each other, prop weapons clashing with the ease of long practice. "Well," Steve says, relaxing as the street around them breaks out into an elaborately choreographed lightsaber battle. "It's definitely not the kind of dancing I was /expecting./" Instinctively there's a very faint translucent shimmer that sprouts around Steve, when the woman draws her weapon, though a moment later it fades away. Jax's hand lifts, clapping to his mouth as a startled-delighted laugh wells up out of him. "Oh! Oh, /gosh/. Oh, this --" He spins around on a heel, hopping down off the curb to slip in alongside Steve again. Tugging his phone out of his pocket, he flips on its camera, smile bright once more as he starts recording the glowing fight around them. "Oh /gosh/, Spence would jus' be so -- oh. Oh that one's done up makeup so /good/." If Steve hadn't quite completely let down his guard before, Jax's reaction convinces him. "Amazing! I thought they needed...computer magic to do this in the films." He drops back behind Jax to keep out of the frame of his recording. One of the duelists fighting for dominance of the crosswalk throws a hand out toward his opponent, and she staggers backward as if physically shoved. She rallies and swings her glowing (polycarbonate) blade at her opponent once again. Choreographed it may be, but the epic battle certainly takes up space. The drivers of stopped cars seem for the moment more entertained by the spectacle than annoyed by its delay -- or, at least, accept this sort of thing as another part of driving in Manhattan. Steve bumps Jax's shoulder lightly, smiling now. "{I'll add this to the list of things that make winter bearable.}" "Just the regular people kinda magic." Still holding his phone up in one hand to film the battle around them, Jax's other hand slips into Steve's, tugging him back to the curb to make more room for a pair of fighters in front of them. "{I think this kind, we always can use more of.}" The duelists in the crosswalk circle farther apart for a moment, then dart forward to clash blades -- locking, this time, in a fierce contention that makes an excellent photo op for the gathering crowd of onlookers. When they push apart again, it's to bow to each other and raise their glowing swords to the sky along with the other performers, crying out in a slightly ragged not-quite unison, "May the Force be with you!" As abruptly as the flashmob began, it dissolves amidst the subsequent cheering and applause (and occasional honking). Some of the combatants dim their blades and melt right back into the crowd. Others keep their sabers lit, all pointing toward a smallish black woman swathed in gray robes and carrying a brilliant purple lightsaber, balanced neatly on a fire hydrant. "Thank you for your patience. We are the Empire City Jedi!" Her voice carries well over the chattering of the crowd. "We hope you enjoyed our demonstration, and we'll be holding lightsaber stage-fighting lessons afterwards, right across the street." She points at a park a little farther down the block with her glowing blade. "All are welcome, from younglings to elders!" Steve turns to Jax with a broad, boyish grin. "{Let's do it. Put a little more magic in the world, right?}" He's already starting to move, but stops, looks back at his companion. "{Should we text Spence? Would he want to learn? Does he /already/ know how to use a lightsaber?}" Jax switches off his video, applauding enthusiastically as the demonstration finishes and the mob disperses. His smile is bright to match Steve's as he turns to look to the other man. "{Oh! Oh, yes, we should totally -- Spence would LOVE this. He be so excited, I'll text -- oh --}" His nose wrinkles up, though admittedly the smile he wears isn't really /dimming/. "{But I promised you dancing lesson.}" "{You can give me a dance lesson another time.}" Steve reaches for Jax's hand, though he stops short of actually taking it. "{Right /now/ we're going to have lightsaber lessons.} C'mon."