ArchivedLogs:Spray N Pray

Spray N Pray
Dramatis Personae Eve, Jax, Steve	2017-04-26 "Are you really trying to agress against these two?"
Location <NYC> 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, and though it's not /late/, per se, it's past dark at least. Plenty of stores in this small stretch of the neighborhood have closed up shop already -- though down the street a ways Evolve is at least still warm and inviting. Up the block here, though, coming from this semi-darkened bit of alley there's a telltale rattle-rattle-hiss -- a can of paint shaken, spraying, shaken again. There's a black duffel bag on the ground, many colours of paint in cans and thick paint markers and pens all collected in the bag. Beside it, mid-painting, the vandal is every bit as colourful as the painting being worked on -- Jax is currently dressed in glittery purple fishnets, tall stompy silver and black boots, cutoff black and silver shorts, a black t-shirt dotted with silver and blue and purple stars that reads 'believe in faeries' on the front with giant butterfly wings on the back; his shaggy mop of hair is kind of an iridescent ombre of peacock shades that don't really seem possible to achieve with regular hair dye. It matches his metalic-glimmery makeup. Also, currently, matches the painting he's working on -- a shiny-iridescent robot stooping down to plant -- something in the ground. Unknown what as yet; the painting is unfinished, though he's huddled nearby it with a thick paint marker. "-- gotta be careful with these ones, they're way drippy if y'don't hold 'em right," he's telling his companion. "But y'get a feel for 'em. An' y'can't get lines with the cans half so good." She's actually wearing the button. Not to school, of course. The one that says '#girlslikeus'. Say it loud, say it proud. She might as well get herself a rainbow sticker. Still, she's leaving Evolve with her purse over her shoulder, and she is currently looking at her cellphone. Taptaptap. Taptaptap. This game, it requires so much tapping! And Eve is happy to give it the attention it truly deserves. Her free hand has some iced coffee from Evolve. And then... There's the artist. Hasn't she seen this guy before? On the news? She watches the main paint for a moment. He's so colorful, and so sparkly, and totally fantastic and also, OMG FAMOUS. Albeit a controversial sort of famous. She sees the man's shirt. "Believe in Faeries" huh? She sets her coffee down, tucks her cellphone into the purse, and very calmly claps her hands together. The words escaping her mouth are soft, almost whispered,"I do believe." Someone has a favorite disney movie. She then calmly picks up her coffee so she can watch. And maybe decide whether to squee, or flee. He certainly doesn't LOOK like a terrorist. Dressed in tight black t-shirt, much-mended blue jeans, and work boots all liberally dotted with paint of every color, Steve is a step behind Jax. He wears his iconic shield strapped across his back and is idly shaking a spray can with a blue cap while he watches his mentor at work. "I got spoiled playing with actual airbrushes down at Chimaera. The cans do take some getting used to." He only glances up briefly when Eve first passes by, but looks more closely when she stops and claps. "Friend, or fan?" His question sounds kind of hopeful. Theres' a small knot of young men making their way down the street, talking loudly and jovially among themselves. Perhaps it's Eve's clapping that attracts their attention, but they shove at each other, laughing, and making their way across the street as a body toward her. "Whatcha doing, huh?" the speaker is tall and pale, with short-buzzed blond hair. "This a dangerous neighborhood to be loitering in. Full of freaks. Should probably run along, right?" "Yeah but once y'get the hang of it you can get a lotta depth with 'em too." Jax straightens with something of a start when Eve approaches. His blush is quick and sudden, air tinting slightly red around him before the faint ruddy glow fades away. "Oh, um -- oh. Hola. I didn't -- um. Expect a audience." His thick Appalachian drawl is sheepish. His teeth catch at his lower lip, clicking lightly against his lip rings. "Are y'--" He falls quiet as the other group approaches, though, whatever he was about to ask Eve trailing off in a sudden frown. He stands a little straighter, fingers tightening slightly on his paint marker and his eyes skating from the group of young men to Eve to Steve. He, at least, stays quiet for the moment. "Oh, totes a fan, I think. I mean. Wow. Like... how often do fame and talent actually go together?" Jax=HIGHLY RECOGNIZABLE. "I mean..." A pause. She looks at Steve, eyes WIDE. "Oh, snap you're... Well, I mean... you know who you are! I mean... Uh... I think... I think I have, like a marker somewhere..." She starts fumbling through her purse, even as Jax drops a little Spanish. "{I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you self-conscious, I just, your shirt caught my eye, and-}" The girl is either rather brave, oblivious, or completely misjudging the situation when the taller young man speaks. She turns around and looks up at him (she's somewhat tall herself!),"That's not very nice, dude! There's a lot of awesome people here." Then again, it could also be that she's from East Harlem and has a different standard for 'scared pantsless'. Still, perhaps something in her brain suddenly switches on that she's doing something stupid, since one foot takes a step back. A hand dips into her purse, and suddenly she wishes she hadn't had that extra cookie. "Often, I hope, when the fame results from the talent, but I suppose that's not how it happened with either of us." Steve tips a fond, sympathetic smile at Jax. The smile fades quickly when the group of young men arrive, though. Steve stands up straighter and takes a step toward the mouth of the alley even as Eve steps back. "I don't think they're looking for your advice," he says levelly, "and this neighorhood can take care of itself." "Hey, /Mamasita/, you're in America now, you can speak /English,/" the tall blond man admonishes Eve, moving forward when she steps back. "Unless there's like an outbreak going on, you know," a squat, brown-haired member of the gang pipes up. Younger than his fellows, he doesn't look much older than sixteen or seventeen. "Shut /up,/ Billy," snaps the blond, apparently at least a self-appointed leader. He looks down the alley at Steve and Jax. "Oh, look, if it ain't the Commander-in-Freak and Captain Faggot." The rest of his crew only laughs nervously. Jax's lips press together as the boys continue to talk. He caps his marker, tucking it down by his waist where his belt -- actually has holster-loops for his art tools. Thumbs hooking into his belt loops, he steps forward toward the mouth of the alley alongside Steve. "Don't nobody 'round here want no trouble. If you're just lookin' to be disrespectful maybe you'd best be moving on, now." "I was born here you racist d-bag." Whatever she's grabbed in her purse is gripped a little tighter. NOW the panic has shown. In the corner of her eyes. A certain sort of thready fear that precedes any conflict. These men are bigger than her, and she's totally a custom made cautionary headline. Even if the Cap'n is here, she is suddenly finding her spine is not made of particularly stern stuff. "Look. I'm sorry for the insult. Just... like he said. We don't want any trouble." Eve opens her mouth and finds it... somewhat dry. "Please. I'd really appreciate having my personal space... uh... personal." She takes another step back, but the lines of discomfort at having that space invaded are written large all over her body. Steve sets his jaw tight. "That's enough." His voice is suddenly stern and commanding. He takes another long step forward and puts himself partly between the leader of the gang and Eve. "You've been asked to leave her alone. I suggest you do so. Now." "Yeah, I bet your wetback mom snuck into America to have you so she wouldn't get deported." The blond leader is speculating kind of /casually/, and while he seems to enjoy Eve's discomfort he is keeping an eye on her hand in the purse. Until Steve gets up in his face, anyway. He licks his lips and glances back at his crew. "Whatcha gonna do, /Cap/? Beat me up? Bet you'd /like/ to get your hands on /this/." He laughs, and the others with him. "Alright, boys, let's go." Half-turning to go, he suddenly spins back and aims a clumsy punch at Steve's jaw. "That's enough." Jax's voice is crisp, at this first casual speculation -- though by the time the punch comes his eyebrows just hike up. Up, up, up -- a sort of 'are you /serious/' incredulity. The punch does not actually make it as far as Steve's jaw; stopping it short, there is abruptly a barely-visible barrier, iridescent like a soap bubble but far more solid and wrapping itself in a tall strong wall in front of the boys for a moment before it fades away. Aaaand... cue the girl pulling out a small canister and SPRAYING it in the direction of the man who took a swing. Followed by her taking off to try to hide behind Jax because he's the source of mystical sky walls and all that. Well. That was... uh... scarry. "Are... are you really trying to agress against these two? Like... they're famous. For surviving, like... exactly this kind of thing. Did you think you'd just get lucky? Run. Now." Because she is now going for her phone. Why? To dial 911. Steve didn't flinch or go for his shield or retaliate in any way at all -- whether because he did not think his attacker strong enough to actually injure him or whether he anticipated Jax's protection, it's hard to say. He just looks...kind of miffed. He's just turning to check on Eve when she fires off the blast of orange mist. Some of which drifts right back into /his/ face. Now he /does/ flinch, if only a little, and starts coughing. "If you're calling for a ride, that's fine," he chokes out, looking at the phone in Eve's hands, "but I wouldn't recommend getting the police involved." The blond's fist smacks solidly into Jax's force field and he yelps. "/Ow!/ Mother/fucker!/" He tucks the smarting hand under his other arm, grimacing. "Hiding behind your freak boyfriend, guess we know who's pitching and who's--" Getting peppersprayed in the face, apparently. "Bitch, what the /fuck!/ Oh shit that burns, aaaaah!" The cry devolves into a shriek as the chemical takes effect, and he twists away, clawing at his face. Some of his crew got caught in the blast, too, and are variously trying to wipe it off. The group begins to scatter, some of them fleeing alone, others trying to help their blinded buddies. At the last it is little Billy who leads their (crying) (screaming) leader away, darting nervous glances over his shoulder at Eve. Jax tenses further when the pepper spray comes out, his jaw clenching tight. He takes a reflexive step back from Eve, eyes dropping to her phone. He is quiet at first, as the group scatters -- he's just moving away already, hastening back to the wall to gather his things hurriedly into the duffel bag and sling it over his shoulder. "We should get home," his voice is low and quiet, to Steve. "You're gonna want to wash that off." She stops in the process of dialing 911 and instead follows the ADULT's advice of calling her parents to pick her up... At the point when it begisn to billow back. "OH MY GOD THIS IS AWFUL WHY DID I THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA?!?!?!" She ends up on her knees, rubbing the heels of her hand into her eyes desperately. "Oh my god this hurts so much. I'm never carrying this crap again!" A lot of tears, this one. Eve is not having a good day. "Oh my god, this good day turned bad quick... Are they still here!?" She can't see ANYTHING. Steve is remaining /pretty/ stoic, all things considered, though his face is quite red and tears stream steadily from his eyes. Heaves a long sigh and kneels down in front of Eve. "{They are away. Try to be calm, please.}" His Spanish is not particularly good, and carries a bizarre mix of French and American accents. "Rubbing will make it worse. You'll have to flush it out. With water." He blinks up at Jax helplessly. "You don't have to stick around. There's always a chance one of those kids called the cops. I'll stay until her ride gets here." It's probably a good thing that Eve cannot see, because Jax's typical illusory-aided mask of calm has fallen entirely away at her tears to break into a moment of entirely undisguised irritation, one hand coming up to dig knuckles into his eye as his shoulders clench. Then relax -- drop, cheeks puffing out for a moment, head shaking as he collects himself. "Right, no -- they're gone. Look, Evolve's just down the block, they'll have water, let's get you both down there we can 'least flush your eyes out help the burning some, aright?" His tone is calm again here, now. "S'it okay if I touch you? I can put my hand on your shoulder, help you get down the block so we can help clean the spray off some an' wait with you for your folks." "Yeah, no. Sorry. I think I made this worse. I'm such a screw-up." She is waving her hands in front of her face as she gropes a hand out in Jax's direction,"Yeah, it's okay. Totally. I'm sorry." She lifts the phone to her ear,"{Granny? It's... *sigh* Jay. There's this place on the lower East Side, Evolve. Can you come pick me up? Thanks.}" The phone is tucked away, and she wipes at her eyes. "I... I made that way worse than it needed to be didn't I? I screwed up bad. I'm sorry. You guys don't need this crap. Look... if you can just get me to Evolve, my grandma can grab me... Oh god, I hope Taylor's not working. This would be just... the worst way to end this evening. I really fubared your evening, huh?" "It...wasn't the best choice, no," Steve agrees, rising and draping a hand on Jax's free arm to guide his way. "But no one's seriously harmed, and I don't hear any sirens. We'll get you to Evolve -- I don't know if Taylor is on tonight, but if so, he's seen plenty of pepper spray and knows what to do." Cough, cough. "Let's just take this one thing at a time, alright? C'mon."