ArchivedLogs:Sugar Monsters

Sugar Monsters
"Oh, S'mores!" > "Argh, Monster!"
Dramatis Personae Corey, Micah
In Absentia	13 April 2013 Corey and Micah meet over coffee! And Sugar!
Location <NYC> Montagues – SoHo
Montagues harkens back to the day when SoHo was filled to the brim with artists, with its mismatched furniture, all plush and decorated heavily with carved wood, but remains trendy enough to keep its newer patrons by making sure that furniture is clean, in good repair and inviting. The antique tables all have been reinforced to seem less creaky. The real draw of the cafe is the smell: fresh roasted coffee mingles with perfectly steeped teas. Spices from crisp pastries mingle with the tang of clotted cream but don't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. East coast weather has been random this spring, no less so in New York. As the drizzle and rain has ended, the clouds still seemed to hang over the city like a big damp wet blanket. But what’s bad for the external activities is great for indoor business that managed to provide warm cozy places to sit around for long periods of time. Hipsters and various non-businessmen sought out this particular location from his history, but also for the fact that there was delicious smell and tastes to be acquired. One here seemed to be alone though, and Corey sat with a paper splayed out on the table in front of him, with a coffee set next to the paper. Circling various entries in the want advertisements, he was a small island of quiet in the otherwise chatter rich environment, though the quiet was a living one. Just something about being in his general area was nice as the tables around him were all still packed and lively. The door opens and closes quickly to admit a slim young man in faded, patched jeans and an olive green canvas jacket, worn open over a black T-shirt with the Reading Rainbow logo on it (altered to add a Rainbow Dash lounging on a cloud, reading a Derring Do book). Micah is in the process of switching from singing to humming as he enters the establishment, seemingly having decided that this was more polite. Hazel eyes appear to be searching for someone, but…not finding what they seek, he ambles to the counter. There are a few moments of verbal exchange between Micah and the barista. He acquires a mocha with whipped cream, in exchange for money and smiles, and begins searching for empty chairs. Of which there are few. He is drawn to the happy-calm of Corey’s table, where he tap-taps the back of an empty chair indicatively. “Hi there!” his voice is a cheerful chirp. “Mind if I use this?” Looking up at the opening door, more out of habit than anything, a smile crossed Corey's lips as he glanced over the reading rainbow shirt. It was good seeing someone in a good mood, since some of the people he'd met thus far had been grumps, justifiable grumps but still grumps nonetheless. As he was looking back to his paper, the voice had been right in front of him, and he blinked. "Oh, yeah sure go right ahead. Let me just move this a bit. " Folding his paper and avoiding taking up more of the table than he had needed, he offered his right hand. "I'm Corey by the way. Might as well do introductions if we're going to be sharing the same space after all." Micah shifts his coffee cup over to his left hand to free up the right for handshakings. His grip is firm, skin callused from manual labour. "I'm Micah. Nice t'meet you." The warm smile he offers implies that this is a genuine pronouncement, rather than mere politeness. He scootches the chair out a bit plunks himself down. Once seated, the tip of his tongue is already darting into whipped cream. It's the best part of waiting for coffee confections to cool to drinkable temperatures. "Don't feel the need to scrunch up on my account." Corey's grip is strong as well, and feels like it should have matching calluses but doesn't seem too bad in comparison. "Likewise, and its not really scrunching up. I've gone through the want ads enough already for the day. Either it’s not something I'm interested in, something I've already done before and didn't like it, or requires more experience than a few months’ worth." His smile was a match to the warmth of the other man as he settled back, taking a drink of his coffee. "I'm sure I'll find something though. It’s a big town, and if nothing else there’s always someone looking for a waiter or a furniture mover." Micah pauses in his whipped cream lapping (apparently his manners do not extend to the consumption of /sugar/) to grin at the other man. “Y’new to the area or just needin’ new work?” he asks before another /even better/ question follows on the heels of the first. “What would y’be findin’ in the work world, ideally? I mean, full-on druthers.” He sweeps an open-palmed hand across his own field of vision, as if to indicate an open field for imagining and planning. Thinking on the matter as he leaned back in his chair drinking his coffee, Corey hrmed a moment. "New to the area, and needing new work. Made my way up here, just sort on a walkabout, soul searching kinda thing." His smile stayed across his lips as his eyes took on a bit of faraway look as he was letting his mind search for the proper words. "I honestly don't know what I want out of life. I'd like to help people out, but well not really much business in helping little old ladies cross the street or rescuing kittens ya know? I tend to just work in whatever service industry or raw labor that comes my way though. Gives me time to think and figure out what I want in life really." Micah’s hands busy themselves with spinning the coffee cup slowly, fingers absorbing warmth through its sides. “Fellow transplant!” His eyes crinkle a bit with the force of his grin at this. “I’m only…well, better half of a year, now, out of Virginia, m’self. Where y’wanderin’ up from?” The fingers of his right hand tap out an idle rhythm on the side of the cup as he considers Corey’s explanations. “Y’can make a career out of kitten rescue, sure! S’what shelters are for.” He chuckles softly. “I can see the appeal of simple work, though. Let your mind go where it pleases, on its own schedule.” "From farther south and warmer climes. Orlando actually, and with the number of snow birds that come down for the winter, I've heard stories of New York all the time." Corey's chuckle matched Micah's though as he shook his head. "A lot of the things that really help people also require a lot of college and training. I've got a degree in philosophy, so unless suddenly being able to discuss Kant, and Ubermensch are of use, I'd need to get training." Letting out a soft sigh, he shook his head. "Like, I've met a lady who was a paramedic the other day, and it made me think about what other ways I could help people with. But basic first aid isn't quite the same as that kind of medical care." "Mmm...warm. I moved up here in the real /dog/ days of summer, which seemed a grand plan at the time, but then /winter/ happened. Spring's bein' more coquettish than usual this year, it seems. More cold'n I'm accustomed to." Micah /giggles/ at a mental image of Corey discussing Kant with puppies and kittens... As he doesn't share that image, who knows? He's just giggly. "Y'can do a fair amount as a medical adjunct without any schoolin'. An' they'll train you on the job. If y'want to be an aide or a tech. Therapy aides in paediatrics have one of the more fun school-free jobs I've seen." "Yeah, I'm thinking that winter is going to be a terrifying beast up here. Still, no point in worrying about it till it comes, right?" Corey was shrugging at that and finished off his coffee with a sigh. "I'll have to look into what they'll let me do without schooling. I'm sure I'll come up with something though, or see what falls into my lap." There was a general peacefulness and acceptance of the world about him as he looked off out the window. "Seems that there’s plenty of problems that need solving at least, but hey, can't do much harm by trying right?" Micah takes a tentative testing sip of his coffee…which, fortunately, proves cool enough for drinking now. “Yep. Just invest in a nice coat, hat, and gloves before the season hits. Because they will be your new best friends!” His tongue darts across his lips to collect an errant dab of whipped cream. “That’s a nice way to take things. Just kinda go along with… Pleasant if y’can keep yourself in food’n shelter otherwise.” He nods in reply to Corey’s last question. “All /kindsa/ trouble out there in need of help, sure enough.” "I'll make sure I do that. I'll probably need one of those big puffy ones though, I'll just have to avoid white so I don't look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow man in the process. I doubt New Yorkers would like the reference." A gleam of amusement passed over Corey’s eyes at that, then he hrmed. "And I'm sure I'll find something one way or another. I bet being a driver for an ambulance wouldn't take too much training either. Maybe I can ask the paramedic if she calls me back." With a glance to his empty cup, he slid his chair back so he could stand. "I'm going to get another. Back in a jiffy." Setting his paper across his chair, he slid through the assembled personages to the counter for some more. Micah laughs outright at that. “I was /permanently attached/ to mine this winter. Green, like this’n, though.” He tugs at the fabric of his jacket to illustrate. “Hey, if I’m gonna be attacked by a giant monster, I’d think ones /made of sugar/ are prob’ly the best way to go.” His teeth clack-clack together as if to say, ‘mmm, chomp!’ Micah nods as Corey escapes to the counter. Returning with another cup of coffee and a napkin with two cookies on it, Corey flopped back into his seat offering one of his cookies to Micah. "I'd have to agree. You'd have thought people would be more "Oh, S'mores!" than "Argh, Monster!"" Shaking his head in amusement, he dipped his cookie into his coffee and took a bite. "Though what of you Mr. Preliminary Transplant. What is it that you do? You seem to know a lot about what jobs someone can take in the city." Micah's eyes go wide at the offer of /cookie/, which is taken eagerly. "Ohgosh, you're bringin' me sugar! Thanks! I knew I was gonna like you..." He giggles, laughter glinting in his eyes, as well. "I'm tellin' ya. Edible monsters." As if to demonstrate, he breaks off a piece of cookie and gets it all covered in coffee and whipped cream before nibbling at it. "I'm in medical equipment, mostly of the rehab. variety. My primary niche is custom orthotics and prosthetics. I operate out of a mobile unit and do contract work at a number of facilities, so...I tend to get around a bit." Eyebrow raising at the job description Micah provided, Corey let out a whistle. "Wow, I can honestly say I didn't know that was a job. But hey, good on you. Custom ones a probably way more comfortable for the people." Nodding a bit he dipped and ate his coffee cookie. "I'll just see what I can do then. Oh yeah, what is there fun to do in this town? Outside of all the big fancy stuff like Broadway and museums and the like. Stuff regulars do, not touristy things." Micah continues his light chortle of laughter at Corey's response. "Yeah, it's kind of a specialty field. If y'don't know someone or hang out around medical facilities much, it could be easy enough to overlook." The cookie monster is definitely losing its battle against Micah's steady nibbling. "Oh, yeah, y'mean the fun things t'do with no money? I'm definitely better at those things. Lotsa nice parks. Architecture 'bout everywhere. Street artists. Coffee shop open mics. Nice, big library. Run across a couple of nice games shops recently. Been settlin' back into gardenin', myself, now the season's on for it. Depends what y'find fun, I s'pose." "All of those sound pretty good honestly. I visited the park yesterday to at least see it, but it was a bit too dreary to really see it in full swing." Corey didn't want to mention the grumpy shark boy he met either, but he could include the grump in the dreariness. "I may have to intrude on you to show me around to some of them if you’re willing. At least then I will know it’s got someone’s stamp of approval." He raised his coffee cup in salute as he finished off his cookie. "And if you need help with gardening let me know. Always sorta had a green thumb, comes from doing the yard work for so many years. Mowing the grass is a pretty good summer job, though I swear it grows twice as fast in Florida. I was cutting some places twice a week." “Mmhmm, the greenery ain’t all the way back up’n runnin’ yet, but the landscapin’ an’ trees an’ artwork an’ people-watchin’ are still nice.” Micah breaks off another bit of cookie. Dipdip nibble. “Hey, yeah, I’ll do what I can. I might not know as many neat spots as folks what’ve been ‘round longer, but I know a thing or two an’ don’t mind a spot o’ company.” Micah nods at the gardening offer. “Yeahyeah. I don’t /own/ any of the gardens I been helpin’ with, but maybe-could use other hands on ‘em. I’ll have to ask ‘round. An’ /shoot/. All the warm-sunny-humid o’ Florida’s a green growin’ thing’s /paradise/. I’m surprised folks didn’t give up and go full jungle. Or grassless yards. Or invest in /goats/.” His nose crinkles happily at the ‘goats’. Living lawnmowers! Snickering at the comment on goats, Corey shook his head. "Can you imagine some of the old retirees looking after goats down there? The immigrants I can see at least doing it." Hrming a bit, he tucked stray strands of hair back into place. "Still if you'd like some help I don't have anything pressing on my time yet. At least give the spring a bit of a head start to counteract the random acts of winter that keep coming back in waves." Corey’s laughter just encourages Micah’s further. He seems to be giggling constantly, with interruptions only for speaking, nibbling cookie, and sipping coffee. “I…yeah, I should prob’ly know better. All the Jewish retiree jokes… I’m probably related to some of ‘em.” He’s /still/ giggling. “Nice to have free time. An’ at least it seems there’s no more real danger o’ frost. I will ask about it.” He pauses to fish around in his back pocket and produces a business card from the stash that he keeps altered for non-business purposes. He slides it across the table to Corey. The card has a blue background with white writing on it: ‘Gorilla AT. Micah Zedner, MSOP, CPO, ATP, PYT’ (the last acronym is added in pen ink). A P.O. Box address. Two phone numbers, the second of which is circled in the same pen ink. “The circled one is the best way to reach me, since I’m pretty mobile and hard to pin down otherwise.” "Oye gavault," Corey replied in his best Yiddish fakery, before shaking his head. "You wouldn't believe the number of times I had little old ladies lamenting over me not being Jewish or they'd have had me meet their granddaughters." Accepting the card and scanning it over a moment, he nodded and shoved it into a pocket. "I can say I can't think of what half your alphabet soup reads. All related to your mobile prosthetics duties?" Micah has to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing /too/ loudly, his eyes squinting closed briefly. "Ohgosh, I can totally see that," comes out muffled before he remembers to remove the hand. "I get...disappointment from the other end. Keep bringin' home Gentiles. Also sometimes boys. Positively scandalise my grandparents...some of the younger relatives, too, unfortunately." He pulls a silly face to display his opinion of this. "Oh, yeah, most of it's degrees and certifications. Medical field /loves/ its credentials." There is /literal/ handwaving over the letter-mess, dismissive. The commentary about bringing home boys didn't seem to faze him at least and he nodded to himself about the degrees. "Still pretty impressive the number of things you've got there. I'm sure you'll bring home a nice Jewish doctor to impress your mother some day." With a grin, Corey inclined his head at that, "Guess I'll be getting a tour from a genius then." Micah snorts over…pretty much all of that. “Ain’t my momma as needs impressin’. She loves /everybody/. An’…well…I’m really not out to impress, generally. Don’t know why folks think doctors are the end-all, anyhow.” His lips tug upward in a smirk. “An’ I ain’t a genius o’ any kind, neither. Just had an overabundance of schoolin’.” "I'll consider all those letters to be genius enough, even if you don't appreciate the difficulty of the task." Corey's smile was kind at that and he gave a little shrug. "Still I should probably start putting in some calls to at least start the interview processes," he said with a sigh. "It was nice meeting you, Micah. I'll call some of the numbers on your card and meet up with you sometime." Finishing off his coffee, he pushed back from the table and stood up again. Micah bows his head slightly at that, not arguing the point further. “Yep, the old job slog. Best of luck to you with it.” He smiles brightly, rising out of politeness when Corey stands. “Nice meetin’ you, too. Have a good one.” Giving a wave and a smile, Corey departed with his newspaper tucked under his arm, and went out into the rest of New York. As he left the place returned slowly back to normal, no longer benefitting from the font of life that had blessed the inhabitants, yet still left them better off for the time.