ArchivedLogs:Reunited

Reunited
And it don't feel so good.
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Toru, Trib	2013-07-03 Toru runs into an old friend.
Location <NYC> Baohaus - Chinatown
Despite its unlikely name, this restaurant dishes up some of the best hot pot in Chinatown. A great place to go with friends, come pick a broth, pick ingredients, and enjoy the Chinese version of fondue, cooking meals yourself in the steaming soup. And, of course, don't miss the signature buns the place is named for! The afternoon lunch rush has mostly faded, leaving only a few scattered tables occupied at the Baohaus. Business people taking a late lunchbreak, and a few college students stopping in for a snack between classes, or between not going to classes. One of those business people - Iolaus, all gussied up in a dress shirt and tie - is sitting with a tall black man with dreadlocks at a four person table. Iolaus is laughing and shaking his head as he insists, "I don't care what you say, Reg. The Yankees still suck. I may not know a lot about baseball, but I know that much." The man that comes through the door of the restaurant is big. That's the most immediately noticeable thing about him. Trib doesn't look /happy/ to be in the restaurant, but he enters with his mouth in grim determination. Like he is defeating something. Dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved button down shirt in blue plaid, the boxer is not as well-dressed as most of those left in the dining area. Handed a menu by the hostess and waved to find his own table, the big man takes the placard with a small curl of his lips before he moves panther-like through the tables and chairs, studying those still seated carefully. There don't seem to be any tables that have been cleared for new service, though, and so the big man finds himself at the table where Iolaus sits. "Mind if I sit here?" is a polite rumble, and there's even something akin to an apologetic smile as he says it. "I promise I ain't gonna eavesdrop." As the large man approaches the table, the taller of the two men leans forward to gently touch two fingers to the surface of Iolaus' hand. He tenses, watching Trib very carefully, and warily. Iolaus, on the other hand, gives Trib a quick once-over and then smiles, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Sure. Take a seat - we haven't ordered yet. Here - why don't I move over there, so you can sit here?" Iolaus suggests, standing and smoothly walking around the table to plop down into the seat next to Reg. "I'm afraid our conversation hasn't been interesting enough to eavesdrop on," he says, with a light laugh. The doctor's laughter does nothing to ease the wariness of his bodyguard. Trib seems unbothered by Reg's scrutiny, nodding in thanks as Iolaus shifts his seat. "Thanks a lot," he grunts, sitting carefully in the vacated chair. "I'm Trib," he says, holding out his right hand in greeting. It's pretty evident that a quarter of it, including the last two fingers, is missing, although the flesh looks a bit misshapen where they would have been. There's an actual flash of teeth that accompanies the gesture. "I'm shit at eavesdroppin' anyway," he rumbles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "People can't help but be aware of me when I'm around." Iolaus reaches and takes Trib's hand with a smile, shaking it firmly. The injured hand doesn't seem to particularly phase him - in fact, he doesn't even seem to give it anything other than a cursory glance, the way you might give anyone's hand a glance when they moved it towards you. "I'm Iolaus, and this is Reg." The doctor says, gesturing with his free hand. "It does seem like you might be a little bit on the conspicuous side. You're a little bit..." His lips purse, though the edges are tugged up in amusement. "Big. I don't even think the newspaper trick would be especially helpful in making you vanish into the crowd." He mimes opening a newspaper and holding it up in front of his face, a la the Pink Panther. Outside the building one may notice younger man on a bicycle pedalling up to the front of the restaurant. He spends a few minutes outside locking up the vehicle, then pulls a ballcap off his head and shoves it into his blue messenger bag on his way in. And, as a second thought, unbuttons his shirt and shoves that into the messenger bag as well so that, when he steps into the restaurant, he's wearing a plain blue t-shirt, that bag, and a pair of khaki shorts. Upon accepting his own menu, he meanders towards finding a seat, but when he sees Trib he stops, tensing up considerably, and almost crushing the menu in his hands. Since the larger man is occupied, he opts to sit at a table nearby, but he sort of half-stumbles when he walks, and all but falls into his seat when he finds it. He may be just a little bit shaken. Trib barks a laugh at the assessment, and bobs his head. "That's true," he says. "I'd just look like a giant holding up a newspaper." He nods at the pair, and settles back. "It's nice to meet you," he says, picking up his menu and scanning it in idle perusal. "But big's good, for my line of work. At least, it can be. Isn't always." He looks up, crinkling his eyes at Iolaus, then at Reg. "What do you two do?" he asks, setting down the menu. If he notices Toru's entrance, it doesn't merit more than a flick of his eyes in the other man's direction. At least for now. "I'm a doctor," Iolaus says, glancing down at the cover of his closed menu. He frowns and opens it for a moment, scanning down it before closing it once more. "Mm. What was I saying? Oh, yes. I'm a doctor, and Reg is a co-worker of mine." Iolaus glances to his right at Reg and gives him a look, eyes widening and then closing back down briefly - /behave/. "What's your line of work that requires you to be so big? Do you hold up buildings?" he asks, a teasing note in his voice. Reg, certainly, does notice Toru. The other man's clear discomfort certainly does not help ease the tension that is threaded through him, and his eyes flick between Trib and Toru several times. "Hi." he says, eventually, a single nod and a single word the only greeting he gives before he clams up once more, watching the situation cautiously. Toru is.. looking through his menu. The fact that Trib doesn't say anything calms him down some, but he is pretty intently /focused/ on the various offerings of the Baohaus for the moment. Reg's greeting is almost missed, but he does, after a moment, look at the man and give him a bit of a look-over. He lifts his head in an upward-nod and replies, "Hey." Another glance is shot towards Trib, but otherwise he's back to reading the menu. And, perhaps, eavesdropping a bit on the conversation. "I'm a boxer," Trib says in answer to the question. His gaze raises to get a good look at Iolaus, brow furrowing. "And a bodyguard, only my boss closed the office for a bit, on account of all this craziness." He waves a hand to indicate the city in general. "Hey, wait," he says suddenly, eyebrows lifting. "I know you. You're that doctor that Tony Stark had at his press thing. Right before they released all them videos." There's more flickering beneath the surface, but the sound of a familiar voice brings Trib's attention around /fully/ on Toru. Still no greeting, though. Just a silent study of the other man before his eyes narrow once, maybe in acknowledgment, and pull away. Then he continues talking. "He's givin' you all that money for a hospital or somethin', right?" "That's right." Iolaus says, and the caution has entered his voice as well, now, straightening up a little bit. The smile on his face fades just a hair, becoming more fixed around the edges, as he's recognized. "Mister Stark has been very generous to the clinic that I'm opening. I hope that we will find many more men and women of courage and conviction willing to stand up for the right thing." he says, passion worming its way into his voice. He pauses for a moment, hesitating, before he gives the other man a little bit of a smile. "I can definitely see the size being a benefit when you box." Reg's attention is split, now, between the two men as they interact, watching each carefully. He picks up his water glass with one hand and takes a sip, peering over the rim of it as he gives Toru a closer look, then back to Trib. His eyebrows knit closer together as creases form on his forehead. Hm. Curiosity gets the better of Toru when Trib mentions videos, and press things. "What videos?" His voice is a bit quiet, and he clears his throat a bit to repeat, "What videos?" It's entirely possible he doesn't watch the news; equally likely that he's soon going to regret asking the question. He lifts his own recently-acquired glass of ice water, sipping from it quietly, and doing little to hide the fact that he just interrupted a conversation he isn't remotely involved in. Even goes so far as to turn in his seat to face the other group, getting all cozy in that new position. Hey guys. Trib's brow furrows at the sudden shift of mood, and he tips his head. "That'd be nice," he says with a nod. "We could use more folks like you an' that little colorful fellow. An' Stark, too, I guess." He ducks his head at the observation, and when he lifts it again, he's showing teeth in his smile. "It helps at my weight class," he admits. "But when I fight someone in a smaller class, they whip the shit out of me. Speedy little fuckers." He rolls his shoulder, and looks over at Toru when he speaks. "You don't know about them videos?" he asks, eyebrows lifting. "Where have you been, dude?" His eyes sharply crinkle at the corners, and there's a hard, playful glint in his eyes. "Livin' in a hole somewhere?" This statement relaxes Iolaus further, and the geniune smile comes back, with a hint of redness at his cheeks. "Videos of the mutant fight ring the police put on," he explains. "They kidnapped a bunch of people, off of the streets, and forced them to fight each other. Sometimes, to the death." His voice is dark, and he shakes his head. "They killed a handful of people, and injured far more. It got broken up, thank god, and everyone is safe now, though no one has been charged with a crime. It's one of the things that set off all these riots and mutant-human violence." Hooking a foot over the opposite knee, Toru gives Trib a big ol' exaggerated shrug. "I don't watch the news, ese, I got too much goin' on with my life." There's another shrug there as he turns to Iolaus.. and maybe, just maybe, his face goes a bit pale. "Videos of.. the fight. Ring." There's that tensing, again, and he fives Trib with a long look, then oh-so-casually he sort of sliides his leg back to the floor, unhooking his ankle and such, and goes back to his menu. "Well that's, uh. I guess that's a thing that happened." Trib is given one more look, but otherwise Toru is content to sort of stare at his available food options and take a moment to re-compose himself. "Yeah," Trib says, nodding along with Iolaus. His expression is a little too earnest to be completely genuine. "It was some bad shit. There were a lot of 'em on the internet." He waggles the fingers of his half-hand. "But like the doc here says, they got 'em out safe. The ones that lived, anyway." This is without facetiousness, and the big man's expression darkens for a moment. "Complete shit, what it's done to the city, though. The fuckin' cops have lost their collective pea-brains." Toru's look is returned with a lazy hitch of Trib's eyebrows, and the big man rolls a shoulder almost imperceptibly, joggling his jaw lightly from side to side. "When does your clinic open?" he asks Iolaus then, tipping his head slightly. "Everyone's lost their minds. Lost prespective, too. Half the day, I'm not sure if I'm in New York or in the Green Zone in Iraq." Iolaus gripes, frown suffusing his face. He shakes his head then shrugs. "The building is still under construction, but we're aiming for the end of the year. October, November, December, somewhere around there, depending on how construction goes, and whether we run into any more speedbumps along the way." The doctor says, with a wry smile. "You never know. It is not the most popular new piece of construction, I'm sure you can imagine." "Yeah, sounds like a damn fucking shame," Toru grumbles. Shaking his head a few times, he sort of paws through his menu and eventually closes it again, lifting it to point at Trib significantly. "And this is why I don't watch the damn /news/. Fuckin' shitty-ass shit happenin' all the time, bringin' me down, yeah? I don't need that shit in my head." He points at aforementioned head, to indicate. The interior. This head, right here. "Anyway, doesn't sound like it did anything to the city, city was already /like/ that. It just kinda... got people noticin'. How shitty things are." "Construction in the city is tricky," Trib agrees, bobbing his head. "I imagine it's tougher for that kind of place. You ain't gettin' too much shit from the average guy on the street, are you?" There might be a touch of hopefulness in the big man's tone, although his expression remains fairly static. When Toru chimes in, his head swivels, and he smirks at his fellow rescuee. "You really need to catch up on the news," he says. "Some /shadow chick/ took out the cop that was supposedly in charge of all that shit before Stark released them videos." His eyebrows lift, then, pointedly. "An' /that/ was like throwing a match in a can of powder. Them videos only made things worse." "It's gotten worse, recently," Iolaus says to Toru. "At least, from what I've heard, and what I've seen. I'm sure some parts are as bad as it's ever been, and some might even be better. Sympathy vote counts for something, and those videos are pretty..." His lips thin into a hard line and he shakes his head. "Well, they're pretty shocking." A pause, and he glances at Trib and shrugs his shoulders. "I have bodyguards and a security team to keep my staff and I safe." This is, perhaps, not an answer. Rolling his eyes as hard as he possibly can - just to make sure Trib sees just how /eyeroll-worthy/ his statement was - Toru notes, "I knew about /that/ piece of g-- news. I'm not sayin' people ain't getting more violent, I'm just sayin' as people like... I dunno. Shit's boiled over but the fire was still on, yeah? That's how cooking works, right? I don't fucking know." He rests his arm on the table and, once again!, turns to face the conversation more fully. "So like what, you're makin' some kinda mutant hospital, is that what I'm hearing here?" "Should try livin' 'em," Trib mutters under his breath about the videos and their shock value. But his attention is on a server, as if he's going to get their attention. To Toru, he says, "It wasn't /that/ slow a boil, sure, but none of that shit helped a fuckin' bit, did it?" He lifts his eyebrows, and leans back in his chair. "I mean, those people in them videos still try to gotta move on and try to put their lives back together, right?" Iolaus' non-answer gets a shake of the big man's head. "That's a fuckin' shame,' he says earnestly. "You dedicate your life to helpin' folks, an' all people can do is shit on you." His mouth presses tight. "That is some fucked up priorities." "In their mind, I'm sure the priorities are quite sensical. But... I find myself agreeing with you," Iolaus says, a wry smile twisting at his lips. "Not a hospital - a clinic. Hospitals cost... much, much more, and I'm not sure there are even enough mutants in the world - nevertheless in the City - to keep a hospital fully occupied, all the time." He pauses, and his smile widens. "Maybe down the road, though. You never know what--" He is interrupted by an insistant beeping coming from his pocket. He tugs out his phone and peers down at the screen, frowning at it. "In their mind, I'm sure the priorities are quite sensible. But... I find myself agreeing with you," Iolaus says, a wry smile twisting at his lips. "Not a hospital - a clinic. Hospitals cost... much, much more, and I'm not sure there are even enough mutants in the world - nevertheless in the City - to keep a hospital fully occupied, all the time." He pauses, and his smile widens. "Maybe down the road, though. You never know what--" He is interrupted by an insistent beeping coming from his pocket. He tugs out his phone and peers down at the screen, frowning at it. Waving a hand dismissively, Toru shakes his head. "Hospital, clinic, whatever, s'all the same to me." That is to say, he's too ign'ant to know or really care what the difference is. "And people are pretty much all fucked up, Trib, if you didn't read the fuckin' /memo/. Or am I the only guy livin' under a rock around here?" He shrugs a little, vaguely. "I mean I dunno maybe you just don't talk to anyone but it don't come as any kinda surprise to me that he's gettin' that kinda response." Once Iolaus's phone beeps, Toru gives the doctor a bit of a look, ears perked, but otherwise just abruptly shutting up in case a phonecall is imminent. Trib blinks at Toru, and his brow sets into a hardened expression. "You ain't got to tell me nothin', /Bones/," he rumbles; thunder rolling in the distant portions of his tone. "I didn't say I was fuckin' /surprised/. I said it was a fuckin' /shame/. Which it is. Clean the fuckin' bone out of your ears when you get around to clearin' it out of your head, yeah?" He lifts his eyebrows in a sudden, pointedly helpful move. This is GOOD ADVICE. When the phone beeps, he too falls silent, although he keeps his eyes trained on Toru, his expression still hard. Studiously so. Iolaus gives the phone a dark look and then looks up at the other two men, smile wiped off of his face. "No lunch for me, it seems. I'm sorry," he says, and his voice is quite professionally level. "It seems there's a slight problem at work that I need to go take care of." He stands up, Reg giving him a look of surprise and following. "It was quite good to meet both of you. Perhaps I will be honored to get a donation from you," he says, smile flashing briefly on his face. He glances back down at the phone and it slips away once more. "Have a good rest of your afternoon." He begins to dial as he walks towards the door in a brisk but not rushing pace, putting the phone against his head as he walks. "Alright, alright, Beth, what's the problem?" he asks, as he slips through the door with Reg a few steps behind. The /look/ that Toru gives Trib is one that can only be described as 'completely disrespectful'. His head tilted to one side, he just sort of... stares at the larger man. Almost challengingly. Like, what're you gonna do about it, eh? But he's quiet, at least until Iolaus announces his departure, at which point his expression also returns to one a little more neutral. "Oh, uh, sure, later, doc." He watches the other man depart, then turns back to Trib, and flops back in his chair. "You know you can just call me Jim," he adds, after a pause, extending the 'Bones' reference. After a moment he adds, thoughtfully, "Wanna split a pot?" Nodding to the menu. He gets up, regardless of the answer, and goes over to flop in the chair Reg had been sitting in. "Cheaper that way." Trib offers a small smile as Iolaus gets up, and lifts a shoulder. "I hope one day that I can," he says sincerely. "It was good meetin' you, too, Doc. Keep fightin' the good fight." He gives a small raise of a fist in solidarity, and lets it drop as the man takes his leave. Then he's shifting his attention back to the remaining man, watching him as he gets up and changes tables. "Jim, huh?" he says, eyes narrowing a bit. "I kind of like Bones." He wrinkles his nose. "Wasn't that the name of the Japanese guy on Star Trek? Bones?" At the suggestion of sharing a pot, he nods. "Sounds good to me," he rumbles. "But, just so you know, I eat meat. So go easy on that tofu shit." Iolaus goes home. Sipping from his water as Trib speaks, Toru replies, post-swallow, "Bones was the fuggin' doctor. Wait, Jim was the captain, I dunno Bones's.. fuckin'. Doctor McCoy, I dunno his first name after all." Eventually he shakes his head. "Whatever it doesn't matter, Bones works. Real cute. You gonna be racist too, huh?" This last remark is made good-naturedly, after that comment about tofu. "That shit is bland as hell, man, I eat meat same as the next guy." He's set his menu aside by now, and has his arms folded on the table, chin just slightly rested on linked hands. "So they seriously put video of that shit on the news?" He lets out a low sigh. "That's fucked up, man." Trib's expression is flat at the explanation, and he lifts a shoulder. "Like I watch that shit," he rumbles. "All that fake fightin' an' sci-fi shit goes right over my fuckin' head." He wrinkles his nose. "How's that racist? Lots of fuckin' people eat tofu." He waves a hand across the table. "An' you're skinny enough to be one of them fuckin' vegan bastards. I was just playin' it safe." His own water is claimed, and he sips it, watching Toru intently as he leans forward. He jerks his chin towards his chest when he lowers the glass, and his mouth presses tight. "They didn't show much on the news," he admits. "But there's a shitload on the internet. But they're all of mutants that don't look human. Like them shark kids." He frowns. "I think they let 'em out to get some sort of sad-sack support or some shit." Toru waves a hand dismissively. "I'm Asian so I must eat tofu, right?" By his tone, he's obviously not taking the matter seriously. "Anyway, Takeru Kobayashi's barely bigger'n me and he eats like what, eighty hot dogs a day or some shit. The eating contest guy," he adds, by way of explanation. But soon enough he's shaking his head and moving back to the /topic at hand/. "I mean I ain't ashamed or nothin' and it's not like I got in many fights, they brought me in pretty near the end. I mean I guess there were cameras all over the damn place to make sure we didn't kill each other where people weren't watching, I don't even know. It sounds like a sympathy thing, though, yeah. Kids sell more greeting cards than grownups." Admittedly, Toru's barely out of kidhood himself, but apparently he considers himself to be an adult. Somehow. "Hey, I know that guy," Trib says when Toru mentions the competitive eater. "I saw him do one of those eatin' things in Atlantic City. Where the fuck does all that go?" He slaps his hand against his chest, making a passing server jump. "I eat that kind of food, I get /fat/. An' I can eat /anything/." He sounds disgruntled by this dichotomy, and he leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "The video ain't of what was goin' on around the cages," he rumbles, lowering his voice as he lowers his eyelids to half-mast. "Just what happened in the ring. From what people were sayin' in the comments, it was some kind of pay-per-view shit." He snorts. "I always wanted a bout on pay-per-view, but...." he lifts his half-hand to wobble it in the air. "I ain't sure that was the way to go about it." "Wait, wait, hold up." Toru lifts a hand, shaking his head. "Okay I think I misunderfigured what you said, I thought you meant like-- like that the people who put the shit on the news posted it online too, like on YouTube or some shit, all like 'look what sad sacks of shit these mutant guys are, doesn't it suck that this happened, give us cash'. The pigs who were /runnin'/ the joint were posting it on the internet?" Letting out a quiet whistle, he slumps down in his chair, shaking his head a few times. "That's just... I dunno even what that is. I'm kinda inclined to say 'sorta pathetic', y'know? I mean shit. I mean I guess it sells." Oddly, with /that/ being the case, he somehow seems less perturbed by the notion of the videos being online. "Fuckin' pigs, man." "There was plenty of that sad-sack shit," Trib says, rubbing a finger along the broken ridge that is his nose. "The stuff folks are seein' on the news, and the internet is the shit that Stark's people released. But they /got/ it from the pigs, apparently." Trib is the source for all the news, evidently. "And 'sorta pathetic' is bein' kind," he growls softly. "It was some sick fuckin' shit, an' worse 'cause they were makin' /kids/ do it." The fact that said kids are not much younger than either of them doesn't seem to factor into his thinking. "And it did sell. Apparently, there's some sort of relief fund bein' set up with the money those pigs got off that shit." He lifts his hands to quirk his fingers in the air, watching the other man to gauge his reaction to this news. "To 'help the ones that need it get back on their feet' or somethin'." Toru shakes his head a little. "Well let's be fair, it isn't like they were like, grade schoolers or anything. I mean, not sayin' it's not fucked up, but.." He shrugs, makes wiggly gesture with one hand. "I 'unno, maybe I'm jaded or whatever, but they got out fine enough as far as I could tell." On the other hand, he wasn't one of the people led out half-dead, so he does have that fact possibly clouding his judgment. "Relief fund though, huh? Seriously? You gonna get in on that?" He tilts his head, all curious-like. "I'm not so sure about trustin' anyone with that kinda pull, I mean even if they did get the thing shut down... never know what shit people're into. Sure, they're not all about makin' people fight each other, but maybe they're all about... I dunno, identity theft or somethin'. Everyone's got some kinda scam runnin', y'know?" "A kid's a kid," Trib says, his jaw setting a bit stubbornly. "It don't matter how old they are; it was fuckin' sick to make 'em kill each other." He shakes off his darkening expression, and shrugs. "But, like you said, they all got out safe, so it's not worth hashin' over again." He raises his hand to flag down the next server that passes, and there's a small lull in the conversation as their order gets placed, Trib ordering a large iced tea besides. Once they're alone again, he wrinkles his nose. "Fuck yeah, I'm gonna get in on that shit. Those fuckin' cops /owe/ me, dude. They kept me in a cage for two fuckin' months." He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, which actually creaks a bit under the pressure. "The guy who told me about it -- he's a nice guy. Cute, and kind of hyper, but a good guy. I don't think he'd steer me to somethin' that wasn't on the up-and-up." He grins, suddenly, a loose sort of smile that reveals teeth. "Anyway, if they wanted to steal our identities, the cops already had our wallets and I.D.s and shit. They could just take those." Shaking his head, Toru lifts a hand. "I guess you ain't from around here. I ain't got a driver's license - who drives in the city, yeah? - and since I ain't old enough to drink anyway I don't got regular ID neither. That's kinda normal for New Yorkers, y'know? So they got my wallet but all it had in it was like loyalty cards and shit. But anyway, whatever, maybe not identity theft but somethin'." He shrugs. "I just-- I mean, I didn't really talk to anybody after it all finished up, I just got the hell outta there. Maybe they're cool, I'unno, but I'm sure you can't blame me for not bein' too quick to trust strangers." Letting out a little sigh, he leans back against his chair again, and runs a hand through his hair. Suddenly, he grins. "Y'know I fucked up one of them pretty good when they were bringing me in. 'Course, that's why I was pretty much one giant bruise when I got there." "There ain't nothin' wrong with not trustin' people," Trib allows, his eyes crinkling. "But I'm willin' to take a bit of a chance, if it'll get some money in my pocket." He feints a couple of shadow-punches, and smirks. "It's kind of what I do, yeah?" He smiles broadly at the story, and nods approvingly. "Good for you. I didn't even get to fuck anyone up. They got me after a fight by stickin' a needle in my neck. I woke up, I was in a cage, wearin' a collar." He glances up as the server drops off his tea, and reaches for a pink packet of sugar substitute which he begins tapping against a finger. "You're lucky they didn't kill you outright, though. Especially if you hurt one of 'em." Affecting a demeanor of faux-modesty, Toru waves his hand vaguely. "Well what happened was they were chasin' me up a ladder and the guy like, grabbed my legs, right.." He puts some energy into the words, getting all into telling the story. "So like I had my arm on the ladder-- thing, and reached down with my other arm and I boned the hell outta the guy's face." Although once he gets to the end of it he deflates a little. "Then, uh, they tazed me and sorta beat the fuck outta me and made me turn it back before they took me in. Still, totally worth it though." Trib barks a laugh at the story, and he actually slaps his hand against the table, making everything jump. "/That/ is the best bringin'-in story I've heard," he says. "I wish I could have seen the cop's face when you grabbed it. I bet it was fuckin' /priceless/." He chuckles more, shaking his head. "You're okay, Bones," he decides, ripping open his saccharine packet and dumping its contents in his tea. "You're a bit squirrelly, but you're okay." He jerks his chin as he stirs the sweetner into the ice and tea, watching it dissolve. "So what's your story? What do you do, now that you ain't in the sideshow?" Practically /beaming/, Toru nonetheless rubs the back of his neck in another display of faux-modesty. "Well, y'know, it was pretty much instinct at that point, yeah?" He pauses to take a long drink of his water, setting it down with a satisfied sigh. In responds to the question, he jerks a thumb to his right. "I deliver for a takeout place up the street, do some courier stuff uptown sometimes, pretty much general like. Bike messenger shit. I was lucky I didn't lose my fucking /apartment/ during all this shit, I mean I'm lookin' for another place anyway but I was like two days from missing rent when everything went through. But no, man, don't give a damn about bills and shit, pigs gotta have their mutant cockfights!" With a noise of frustration, he comes this close to pounding the table, but finally does settle down a bit. And actually blushes a little, before shaking his head dismissively. "Well, whatever." Trib stares for a moment. "No shit?" he says, his expression a bit stunned-looking. "They snatched you up, an' you're from the neighborhood?" The shift from amazed to impressed is slow, but it happens. "That's pretty fucking ballsy. Guess they were startin' to get cocky about shit." He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a long drink as he listens to the rest. "I did lose my place," he says when he sets the glass down again. "I just found a new one last week." He rolls his eyes. "Not that either one is anything to write home about. But it's a roof, yeah?" He jerks his chin again. "Why're you lookin' for a new place? Where you at now?" "Cocky is puttin' videos of fight rings on the internet when I can't even download a movie without gettin' emails up my ass from my internet guys about how I'm gonna go to prison if they catch me doin' that shit again," Toru notes, astutely. "So who the hell knows, maybe next they were gonna put up fuggin' fliers and shit. What the hell ever, right?" He takes another moment to sip on more water, tucking his glass near the table so that it will get refilled on the next pass of a server. "My place is kinda spendy and it's a dumbass commute to get down here when this is where I do most of my work, so I'm lookin' for someplace closer." Trib just snorts at Toru's assessment of true cockiness, but it doesn't seem to be any sort of argument. "I figure the pay-per-view had plenty of buyers," he says with a shrug, reaching for his tea again and watching as a server seems to magically appear just for the sole purpose of filling Toru's glass. The big man furrows his brow at the explanation, and frowns. "I just live a couple of neighborhoods over," he offers. "In Clinton. It's only one stop over on the subway." Which may or may not be useful information. "How cheap are you lookin' at?" "Whoa, bro," Toru holds his hands up, palms facing out, in defensive posture. "IIiiii ain't lookin' for that kinda commitment, y'know?" He sounds a little /nervous/ about the very idea, assuming of course that he's even interpreted the line of discussion correctly. "I mean I'm just tryin' to find like, a hole-in-the-wall kinda thing... I mean, s'long as it's big enough for my bike and my couch I'm good, yeah? Not lookin' to bring like, roomies into the deal. I can't live with other people, bro." Trib frowns. "What the fuck are you goin' on about?" he asks, genuinely baffled. "I ain't fuckin' invitin' you to move in with me. I got my own shit to deal with, without throwin' roommates into the mix." He exhales through his nose. "I was tellin' you, on account my buildin' is cheap, an' there might be an apartment available in it." He furrows his brow deeper. "What the fuck do you think I am? One lunch, an' we're movin' in together?" He shakes his head. "Holy fuck, dude. I mean, I guess you're kind of cute, but no." Toru bites his lip, all but bristling. "Well I don't know your fuckin' life! For all I know you figured it was some kinda solidarity thing, I don't fuckin' know! Jesus!" Pause. "And no I /ain't/ fuckin' /cute/, don't even get goddamn started on /that/ shit. /Jesus/. Anyway I got some goddamn leads I'm checkin' out," he notes, his tone /just/ a touch sour now, "but, uh, thanks anyway I guess." Arms crossed over his chest, now, he just sort of looks off to one side and lifts a hand to muss his hair up a bit. "I'm probably gonna get a place in C-Town, places are usually priced pretty okay on accounta white people don't usually wanna live here." "I didn't say you /were/ cute!" Trib barks, /definitely/ bristling at the sudden hostility. "I said you were /kind/ of cute, you dumb fuck." There's a hard glare. "But you're gettin' uglier, the more you yap at me like you're some kind of big dog." He juts his jaw forward, and jabs the air in front of Toru in an annoyed gesture. "Mind your fuckin' manners." He wrinkles his nose at the idea of living in this area, and his mouth presses into a line. "I guess it would be pretty cheap," he allows. "At least until white people with money decide they want it." /Bristling right back/ some more, Toru-- nonetheless calms down a little. "Yeah y'know what, you're a big guy, you can probably handle the food on your own, yeah?" Toru pushes himself up out of his seat, though he does also pull his wallet out and remove some cash to drop on the table. "I think I got somewhere to be, alla sudden." Gathering up his bag, he checks that he's all situated, but does hesitate a moment and pull a pen and a small notepad from his messenger bag. Scribbling something down, he rips the sheet off and drops it on top of the money. "That's my number if you wanna reminisce again, or want me to beat your shit up or whatever. Catch you later." And with that, he waves as vaguely as possible and strolls right on out of the restaurant. Trib claims the paper, dropping his hand over it and the money casually, and offering a wide smile to Toru. "You take care, Bones," he says, unbothered by the sudden departure. No, instead he watches, greatly amused as the other man exits just as the server arrives with the ordered food. Then the big man chuckles, looking up at his server and offering a shrug. "First dates," he says with a chuckle, shaking his head. "Always awkward, ain't they?"