ArchivedLogs:Sugar And Stars

Sugar And Stars
Dramatis Personae Shane, Micah, Hive, Sage	23 February 2014 Sweets, stars, and discussions about the future. (Later followed by smalltantrum.)
Location <NYC> Happy Cakes Bakery – TriBeCa
Happy Cakes Bakery is a cheery little spot of vintage charm amidst the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan neighborhood, a refurbished pair of row homes that hardly resemble their previous selves - the front walls are almost entirely gleaming glass, with the logo of the bakery painted onto the top, and rainbows of cupcakes dancing along the edges. Eclectically styled, it seems homey and welcoming - if the cross stitched sign by the door wasn't obvious enough - "All are Welcome!" it reads, with the "All" underlined in a sparkling bubble gum pink and yellow dotted line, with the logo of the bakery, a cheery smiling pink and white cupcake, beneath the lettering. Once inside, the walls of the combination bakery and coffee shop are covered in crisp clean white ceramic tile, with the occasional randomly placed tile with an color engraving of a tropical flower, or tile made of reclaimed China. Ambient music reminiscent of the Big Band era plays through the shop, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to make conversation difficult. Tables and chairs in a variety of sizes, colors, and styles fill one side of the room, none of them quite matching each other, but all of them seeming to work together. The other side of the shop is a long series of gleaming glass and chrome bakery displays, filled with colorful sweets and treats of every description. To one end of the counter is a gleaming chrome espresso machine with far more tubes and bobbles than is really necessary, but producing excellent espresso beverages. At the other end is the old style cash register, a chrome and cherry wood relic from a bygone age that dings cheerily with each sale. The wall behind the counter is covered in photos of a tropical island, as well as a pair of shops that look like a smaller version of this one, several including a pair of dark haired women. Another pleasant day, and Shane has spent a good portion of it outside in the pursuit of STARS. The sun has long since set as he makes his way to Happy Cakes, messenger bag bulging with the day's haul. He is dressed as he often is, more dapper than there is probably a real need to be in pinstriped slacks and button-down shirt, grey vest and neat-tied bowtie, his slim-fit peacoat currently unbuttoned in concession to the milder weather. "-- pick up like a billion cupcakes," he is saying as he pushes the door open to hold it for his companions, "and meet Pa at the Clinic when he gets off work." He bites down on his lip as he peers into the store thoughtfully. "-- Do you think you have to know how to cook to run a place like this or just. Hire someone who knows how to cook?" Micah has joined Shane's star-hunt on and off throughout the day, between assorted chores and a short stint at the shop in the morning. The much warmer day has finally found him in no more than a jacket, though zipped up tight. A green-brown newsboy cap is perched on top of his head, auburn hair sticking out from under it shaggily. The tail end of a T-shirt is visible over his rainbow patched jeans. "Surprise cupcakes sound like a perfect plan. I think it helps t'/know/ a business when y'own a business, but it isn't entirely required. 'Specially if you're good at hirin' an' managin' people who're good at what they do." He is walking along at Hive's side, conveniently keeping an arm in reach to support the other man if he should choose to use it. Hive has been out through a lot of the day being passed off between Flicker and Dusk on their own questing, but has now been passed off yet again. His old canvas jacket is a battered weatherbeaten thing; it matches his faded fraying jeans, his sneakers held together with duct tape around their toes. He has a cap pulled down over his head -- /this/, at least, is new, soft and blue and dotted all over with red stars. He does lean, somewhat heavily against Micah's side -- not very /consistently/, taking a few steps more or less on his own and leaning in against Micah only at intervals. "-- fff what. You want to open a. Cupcake...ry? Just ask your. Pa I bet he has /plenty/ of time for a. Seventeenth. Job." "The correct term is bakery." Sage says kind of...creepily as she is sitting in a chair, overhearing Hive. She has a large bag over her shoulder, filled with stars, which she is sifting through, reading the clues, removing several and tossing them away. "Micah, Shane, Hive. Hello." And she still sounds like a robot, as usual! "Jackson is more or less overtaxed with how much work he puts in, I do not believe he could run a bakery along with his other jobs." She tips her head in greeting as she says this. Sage is wearing black t-shirt, a jacket hanging on her chair. Blue jeans, a pair of old converse from like..forever ago, ATHENA resting on her face. "Well, no, there's places called cupcakeries, /too/. They're specialty bakeries and kind of a fad I think New York has about seventeen thousand." Shane doesn't exactly have a cupcakery in mind when he says this, though; he's thinking of a different coffeeshop entirely, now burned down. "But no, I don't want to open a cupcakery. /Or/ a bakery." He sheds his jacket, folding it over an arm. "... I kind of want to open Evolve back up. And I don't think Hive was serious about Pa running a bakery, he doesn't even have time to sleep as it is." He doesn't actually greet Sage, just kind of /frowns/ at her and then moves a little closer to the display cases to examine the day's options. "But he does bake like a fiend every morning, maybe I could steal some cookies off him every other day." "Ohgosh, Jax might very well /enjoy/ doin' some professional bakin', but he'd have t'do it /instead of/ one of the other things. An' I have trouble thinkin' which of the other things he'd be willin' t'trade for it." Micah is a little distracted by the colourful and tempting items in the display case, his eyes sweeping over the day's offerings slowly. "Y'wanna re-open Evolve...yourself? It takes /some/ trainin' t'run a business, Shane. But it might be somethin' y'could invest in /with/ someone t'help. 'Specially if y'were thinkin' t'run the night club with it, as well. S'particularly difficult t'get a liquor license if your business owner is underage... But I should stop just runnin' without information. What were y'thinkin' of, actually?" Hive just snorts, at this mention. "What the fuck, you stupid or just feeling suicidal? That place is a deathtrap." He follows the others in, though he doesn't head towards the front, dropping down to take a seat a table next to Sage and rest his head in his hands. "-- You're just everywhere, aren't you." Maybe this is /like/ hello; his eyes are cutting over towards Sage and then dropping down to the table. "No, I am not everywhere. You can only be in one place at a time unless you have the ability to duplicate." Sage says, a nod, though she's probably fucking with Hive now (yes, she is capable of doing that!). "Evolve failed solely because of how it marketed. It opened itself up as equal rights, had a name for mutants, everything. The concept was grand, but the bigots won in the end." Sage is still trying to decide what she'll go order. "The world is difficult about things like this." "Evolve didn't market jackshit, the fuck are you on about." Shane gives Sage a skeptical look. "You know maybe if they had --" His hand taps against the side of his leg. "Maybe the problem was they didn't. I don't know. They were this little hole in the wall nothing place that you only knew about if you -- you know, /knew/ about it, and then slowly word started to trickle around -- but it's harder to pull that shit with people actually watching. Maybe they should've marketed. At the least, maybe it'd mean enough customers to hire some security." He rolls his shoulders in a quick shrug, teeth baring in a fierce grin. "Oh, I've never claimed to be /smart/. Just fucking sick of -- skulking around getting shit on, you know? The bigots don't always get to win I can't live in that world." He moves closer to the display, rocking up onto his toes. "I think I'll probably just get some of /each/ vegan thing and let Pa decide. S'two cookies and two cupcakes could get a half-dozen each. -- and I don't know," he admits to Micah, "shit about running a business, but I know lots of people who /do/. I could buy the place and /learn/." "No, Hive, he's got a point. It's dangerous, but y'all can't just...never have anyplace t'go. It mightn't be as /crucial/ as Io puttin' the Clinic together was. But havin' a place where y'/know/ y'can congregate an' eat an' have some entertainment without bein' harassed or thrown out for havin' special abilities is somethin' that's /needed/." Micah drums his fingertips thoughtfully against the edge of the counter. "Shane. Language. Sage is one of the professors at your school; please treat her as such." The reminder is off-hand, as Micah is regarding the items that Shane points out. "That sounds like a good plan. Can never /really/ go overboard on orders of /sugar/ for Jax." He does look up at Shane's /other/ plan. "Honey, y'don't start a place an' then figure out how t'run it. Y'learn how t'run a business an' /then/ start a place. Again, I wouldn't object t'you /investin'/ in Evolve reopenin'. Or workin' there once it did. If y'had someone with business experience who was gonna be...in charge of its direction. Y'know?" "Restaurants are risky fucking businesses when they're /not/ freak-restaurants that are just going to get firebombed and shut the hell back down again. I mean, that's if you're not /in/ them when they get firebombed and then they're shut down again /and/ you're dead." Hive slumps further against the table with this ringing support of Shane's idea, arms folding on the table and his head resting in them. "Besides, you're in school. Doesn't that kind of eat into most of the time you'd spend -- you know. Running a business?" He does sort of snort at Micah's advice, though. "/Pfft/, I don't have a /single/ fucking clue how to run a business and apparently I have one. They'll let just about anyone open a fucking business these days." "It is fine. We are not at the school, nor am I technically a professor." Sage tilts her head towards Micah, having absolutely no problem with Shane cursing at her. "I must agree with Hive's sentiments about restaurants, though for someone who does not know how to run a business, he does do quite good." She tilts a hand towards Hive, standing up to look towards the displays. "I am sure you are not the only person who has thought of reopening Evolve, however." "So fine you're not going to be my business partner," Shane replies, nonchalant, tossing Hive a smirk for his predictions of fiery death. "-- But see Hive doesn't know anything about running a business and /he's/ got one. You moved to New York in a /van/ that wasn't exactly the height of preparation. /Anyway/," he adds with an apologetic frown towards Sage, "/fuck/ school is the thing. I mean, it's going to get me exactly fucking nowhere. I'm not really all that into it. Might be fun to try something new. But like hell," he says to Micah's mention of working there, "am I going to keep washing fucking dishes my whole goddamn life." He turns away from the display cases, shrugging. "Daiki's graduating this year. And /he/ knows plenty about business, he's been all up in Eli's for years. And I know how to make drinks fine. I'd need someone who knows cooking. Baking. /Food/. But I'd rather learn that shit than go to class, school's kind of a crock of shit given my odds of -- well. Anything normal in life." He shrugs a shoulder again. "Might not be the only person, but nobody's /done/ anything about it. People can /think/ all they want, pretty meaningless if they don't act on it." "Hive, you're grossly oversimplifyin'. You've got a professional degree, which means that you took related courses in ethics, law, an' business management. They make y'take /tests/ on legal issues t'get a professional license. Just 'cause y'don't /think/ y'know anythin' about runnin' a business don't mean that y'don't. Or you'd be buildin' things without goin' through the appropriate legal avenues an' so on an' so on." Micah shakes his head firmly at Shane's assertion that his own business didn't involve much planning. "There were /years/ of plannin' that went into my startin' up, Shane. Just not a lot of /capital/. I started out younger'n most people'd advise for my profession, so I didn't have a chance t'build a lotta start-up cash. But I'd been plannin' on this since before I got outta school. An' then I worked in the field for a few years first. An', since I went to a professional school, I /also/ had courses in related ethics, law, an' business management. They're mandatory. Ain't an MBA, but it's enough t'get by on when y'know folks y'can ask for advice." Micah reaches for Shane's shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. "You're too /young/ right now, if nothin' else, sugar. Y'can't even legally sign most contracts yourself yet. This is somethin' you'd have t'do /with/ someone else. Someone older'n more experienced. Or it'd never fly. An' by workin' there, I didn't mean washin' dishes. There's any number of positions from workin' a register t'food preparation t'doin' /accounts/, for goodness sake. I didn't mean t'say anythin' /like/ you'd just have t'wash dishes." He pauses a moment, looking thoughtful. "Have y'considered doin' an internship, Shane? I don't know if your school sets that kinda thing up, but lotsa schools'll do that sorta thing for class credit. Get on-the-job trainin' so you /are/ prepared for the kinda work y'wanna do." "Beggin' your pardon, Ma'am," Micah finally addresses Sage. "You mightn't mind, but /I/ do. An' Shane is my son, so I'd appreciate you not attemptin' t'undermine my instruction on this particular subject." "I have so much fucking degree," Hive agrees with a grimace. "Man --" He cuts himself off with a /deeper/ grimace, though, slumping his head further down into his arms at Micah's final request to Sage. Rather than continue the thought aloud he directs it solely to Micah, a heavy thud of mental speech in the other man's head alone: << Okay there's like seventeen million reasons it's a dumbass fucking idea but are you seriously going to play the you're too /young/ card? On /Shane/, dude? That's just low, man. Kid hasn't /been/ a kid in -- ever, might mean extra steps he'll have to take but he'd hardly be the first kid in the country to start a business. Besides which he's gorram ornery enough saying /that/'s practically just fucking daring him to do it just to be stubborn now. >> He shifts where he sits, dropping a hand to dig around in a coat pocket for his wallet. "Should bring home some. Shit. For -- for." He frowns. "People. I live with. -- I haven't even been by in forever, they ever even fix the place back up?" he wonders curiously. "I did not mean it that way, I apologize." And then Sage is heading towards the counter to order. There's a quiet rustling whisper of gills shifting against the collar of Shane's shirt at the assertion that he is too young, clear inner eyelids swiftly shutting over his enormous black eyes. His shoulder tenses beneath Micah's hand, and he turns aside with a sudden too-bright smile to put in an order -- a half-dozen of each of the vegan items and a large soy caramel mocha. Another three each of the vegan items, separately boxed for Geekhaus. A large black coffee for Hive. His gills flutter again as he digs out his own wallet to pay for it all. There are a storm of angry answers, snappy answers, snarky answers, flitting through his head on the subject of internships and what jobs exactly Micah imagines have positions open for small blue sharks. In the end, Shane swallows these answers with an unhappy sense of /unease/ over actually vocalizing his feelings and just shrugs. "Not really sure what kind of work I want to do anyway. Just figured this was better than --" He shakes his head, slipping his credit card out of his wallet. Though in his mind his thoughts are running down a list of who might have applicable knowledge to draw from and whether there are online classes that might help fill the gaps in his knowledge. Micah nods to Sage as she passes by, also offering a small smile at the apology. "It's alright. I'm just tryin' t'have consistent message delivery. Y'know how it is." "Honey, I can get this unless you're feelin' strongly about payin' for some reason," Micah offers as soon as Shane reaches for his wallet. << I wouldn't usually be sayin' someone's too young in the subjective sense, but...objectively, it's a barrier t'business ownership. S'why I brought it up. The other concerns /are/ concerns, but they're more easily worked through or around. I know...it'd be dangerous. But /somebody's/ gotta do it eventually. An' it ain't like Shane isn't takin' a risk every time he steps foot in public. The /danger/ aspect would be entirely up t'him. An' I'm sure he's aware of /that/. Acutely. The practical issues, however, bear mentionin'. 'Cause he /doesn't/ know those so well. >> "Well, if y'do really have an interest in the food service business, or even /another/ kind of business, I can have Jax check into what the school might have t'offer on the internship front. I mean, could very well see if /here/ would be an option for you as far as that's concerned. Hanna's real adamant about servin' an' employin' individuals with genetic enhancements, both. Even if they have obvious physical traits. So the only barrier'd be if she wanted an intern or not." Hive digs a few bills out of his wallet, tucking the wallet back into his pocket and setting the bills down on the table. He returns his head to his arms afterwards, though this time tipped to the side, cheek pillowed against a forearm. He frowns up towards the front of the store, a deep crease between his brows as he looks Shane over. << Mngh, >> is his only reply to Micah, strangled and unhappy, with a twisting undercurrent of worry. "I have money. /One/ of you two take it. -- And the internet will teach you just about fucking anything, really." Shane puts his card away, shoving his wallet back into his pocket at Micah's offer with a scowl and a sudden unbidden /choked/ feeling (<< 'too /young/' >> rattling around in his head) as he turns aside to head off and drop heavily down into a seat at Hive's table. "I don't want to work here. I don't know what the fuck I'd learn here that's different from Montagues. Just we're going to be seventeen next month and I can finally drop out of school without the state giving you guys shit over it but I'm going to need something to do with myself." His lips twitch, faint and self-deprecating. "You know. Till my music career takes off." It's dry, neither tone nor thoughts actually carrying much hope of /that/. Micah fishes for his wallet to pay in Shane's stead, collecting the goods and returning to Hive's table. He /also/ takes the money that was placed there, following the telepath's insistence. "Internship's dif'rent from washin' dishes, hon. They're s'posed t'show you the ropes of what you're interested in...so, more of the /business/ side. An' it'd be dif'rent in that they wouldn't be /hidin'/ you all the time. But if this kinda place isn't what y'want, that's fine, too." He sighs heavily as he slides into a seat. "You're just so /close/ t'finishin', Shane. I really, really wish you'd see the diploma through. 'Specially if you can get a lotta your remainin' credits in internships or other work experience anyhow. I wanna help you. When you figure out what y'want, okay? But I need t'know first." One eyebrow arches at the music career mention. "Was that serious or just a sarcastic comment? 'Cause y'can get music industry internships, too." Hive sits up, slightly, when Things arrive at the table, eying his coffee but not yet touching it. He rubs his knuckles against his temples, eyes closing slowly. "You're really fucking good. And Ryan's your teacher. Why not take advantage of a little nepotism. Pretty damn sure he could get you -- noticed, anyway." His frown hasn't faded, eyes fixing on Shane when they open again. "I'm /not/ close to finishing," Shane answers Micah irritably. "/B/'s close to finishing. He'll be /done/ with all his credits after this year and then where the fuck will I be. I've still got twenty --" He frowns. "-- four or so goddamn -- to go and that's. You know, /optimistically/ if I don't fail anything I'll be there /more/ than a year still probably. Like fucking /hell/ am I staying after B graduates." His gills rustle against his collar again. He snorts, shaking his head. "Fff. No that was me doing a sarcasm. I don't think I really have a music star kind of face." Which, admittedly, comes with a return of that choked feeling, a hard knot of longing clenching unhappily inside him. “Ryan could very well get you an internship...learnin' about recordin'. Any of that.” Micah frowns when Shane declares the thought to be purely sarcasm. “Honey. You're gonna have t'do /somethin'/ separate from B eventually. Unless y'suddenly developed an interest in AI an' robotics I didn't know about.” He reaches over to the chair beside him, sneaking an arm around Shane if he doesn't pull away. “I love you. An' a little over a year may sound like a lot, but for somethin' this important, sugar...” He gives in on pressing the issue for now, instead hugging Shane tighter. “There are options. We'll find 'em. Y'just gotta let the doors try t'open without closin' 'em all on /yourself/. Some of 'em won't open for you, that's true. But some will. If we try.” Then he drops that topic as well. “Love you, honey. We'll figure things. You got a lotta folks on your side an' willin' t'fight for you.” << You know, >> Hive's tone in Micah's head would almost sound light except the mental bludgeoning he gives out doesn't really make /casual/ come easy, << this stupid Evolve thing might /be/ the first time I've heard Shane actually talk about plans for doing shit with his life. >> He braces his hands against the table, pushing slowly to his feet. "C'mon, we have surprise cupcakes to deliver." Shane does pull away; not immediately, shoulders first just tensing hard, but after a second he withdraws. "-- Something separate from B like re-open Evolve?" His tone is dry again. He shrugs back into his coat, standing and draping both their and Geekhaus's bag of pastries around an arm. "Thanks, but I think I've seen enough of the world to have a pretty clear picture of what my options are." << And I'll fight for my own fucking self, thanks, >> is a sharply bitter mental addition; it comes with a repeated echo << 'too /young/' >> thudding in his mind like a door slamming shut. His gills flutter again, his brief smile small and tired. "And probably more stars to pick up on the way." << That's part of why I'm not shootin' the idea down wholesale; he just needs t'have a sponsor in this. An adult with experience in the field. We might be able t'find him someone... >> Micah echoes this out loud to an extent. "Shane, honey, I'm not shootin' that idea down. We just need t'find somebody with experience, who's of legal age, t'help. If y'can find somebody like that...this may be a thing for you. Though I'd really suggest /also/ doin' school still an' havin' any project like this be for school credit. We can come up with ideas, honey." He smiles warmly at the mentions of delivering sweets and hunting stars. "Y'know what, that sounds like an amazin' plan. Sugar an' stars. Let's go for it."