ArchivedLogs:The Clear Path

The Clear Path
Dramatis Personae Parley, Cage, Janice
In Absentia	2013-08-13 Parley is NOT fired.
Location <NYC> Heroes for Hire - Midtown East
The front room of the Heroes for Hire office has the secretary's desk, a small filing cabinet, a computer, and a ceiling fan. Janice, the aforementioned secretary is a sixty-something woman who's accent clearly marks her as being from Eastern European descent, though probably one generation removed judging by how well she speaks English. Janice was almost certainly selected by some busy-body lawyer on Luke's behalf, probably to keep him free of any more accidental law suits. The paint is faded, but everything pretty much works. Off to one side is the bathroom, and the other door leads back to Luke's office. There's isn't much in Luke's actual office but a small desk and a swivel chair pushed into one corner, with a pair of straight backed chairs on the other side of it. A couch is by the window that looks out over the city, with Times Square in the distance. All things considered, its actually a pretty decent little spot. Text messages were exchanged. In the end, Cage asked Parley to meet him at the HfH office. Strangely enough, Janice is /in/ today. And she looks to have returned with a vengeance. Her desk in the front room is neatly organized, and she is typing away on her laptop. Near her are two stacks of mail, opened and unopened. When Parley appears at the door, she glances up for a moment, nods at him, and then flicks her eyes towards the door to the back office. "He's in there." Some day, she'll probably learn about this new thing called 'smiling'. Cage can be found actually sitting at /his/ desk too. Though he's kicked back, feet on the desk, he appears to be reading a /case file/. /Doing work/. What has the world come to? Parley's entrances are never a riveting affair; he's dressed in a vague sort of anti-style, black shoes, gray slacks, a gray shirt silk shirt (non shiny, just light weight, matte) with mandarine collar. Dark rimmed glasses. Chaotic-spiky hair overgrown just enough that he can gather a small tuft of it off the back of his head. He invades Cage's office at a meander, "Luke Cage." He says it on an exhale, like '/what/... am I ever going to do with you'. He had his phone out, reading a message on it, but tucks it into a back pocket now that he's here. Eyeing the case file Luke is reading as though it might have /bacteria/. "Hey, good news, you're not fired." Luke Cage says, nonchalantly. He closes the manila folder on the case file and slips it into a drawer next to him. "You wanna have a seat?" he asks, gesturing at the chairs in front of his desk. "How about a coffee?" Luke is wearing an almost painfully bright yellow t-shirt, tight enough to show off most of the detailed torso beneath. He's also got on jeans, and his regular biker boots. "Oh. Wonderful," as a greeting, Parley is struck instantly /bemused/, brows raising "Was I otherwise going to be?" This calls for roaming, towards the coffee machine. The selections are riffled through with busy, selective fingers. Pick-pick-pluck? <<Absolutely>> "Nothing was decided," Cage says. He leans back and crosses ankle over knee while he watches Parley picking out his coffee. "I was thinking about gutting the company. Getting a fresh start. But, I gained a fresh perspective." He shifts in his chair to get more comfortable, and waits for Parley to get his drink sorted out. "But I want to talk to you about some evolutions we're experiencing here." The rapid pick-plucking through options only slows when Parley locates hazelnut. And he only turns once the warm aroma begins to fill up an appropriately situated cup, leaning a hip against the table to puppyguard his brew while it's still too young to fend for itself. His arms are crossed, brows pulling slightly together as he looks over Cage's face. "-- a fresh start." He'll just state that one back at Cage. Like holding up a /mirror/. Start there. "Well, here's the deal," Cage says, folding his thick arms in front of him. "Heroes for Hire is about to get a shit load of publicity. Mostly the good kind, but the other kind of attention is bound to come with it." Luke jerks a thumb towards the front room. "I gave Janice an 'out', severance and all. She told me to go fuck myself." "That's right." Janice's huffy, eastern european accent can be heard from the front room. "The point is, we're not going to be able to fly under the radar anymore. I'm going full speed ahead, in every peaceful way possible, to push for mutant rights in this city. And I need a PR guy who can actually be visible once in a while. I respect your subtle approach, but I need you out front. Can you do that for us?" Cage's earnest sincerity is a like a giant, church bell ringing clear through the empathic medium. "You're rarely not at full-speed-ahead," Parley reminds the man, /wryly, and loops fingers around his coffee to collected it beneath his nose, "It sounds more as though you're referring to..." Sss, he doesn't quite hiss, but he does look down into his cup, where the tendrils of steam bathe past his cheeks, "momentum. I can't really answer that question yet." His eyes flick upward again, "When I don't even know what it is you're planning to do." Luke stares at the ceiling above Parley's head for a moment. The man who got his GED in prison, probably skipped the chapter outlining the differences between speed, velocity, vector and momentum. He looks like he's aware of his deficits, too. Finally, he just sighs, and says, "Well, we're kind of stuck then. I can't tell you what I'm planning before I have a commitment from you." <<Because I don't trust you.>> Cage shifts in his seat again. "I'm planning non-violent protests and other measures, but it's not all /legal/ because the city won't grant the permits. So I'm likely to get arrested. However, if I don't tell you ahead of time, you're less likely to get picked up for conspiracy. But I can't stand by any longer while this city shits all over mutants. I'm aim to get my hands dirty, and anyone working here is bound to catch some flak for it." Cage gestures, "I can't seem to shake her loose." "Fuck you, Mr. Cage," Janice says politely. "But basically I'm giving you the chance to bail, if you want to. No hard feelings." "And a verbal commitment would suffice for you?" This is phrased more in a mild argument against Cage's premise, as Parley rubs at his forehead for a long moment. He's exhaling slowly through his nose. "Mr. Cage-- Luke." Not one to use first names, he sounds more threadbare for it, "Whatever it is that you're planning. Do you have a clear peaceful /goal/ in mind? With the situation in Harlem right now, a single mis-step on the mutant front..." But he's slowly shaking his head, and slumping further down against the table. "There's no clear path, though, is there. For any of us." Hooking his elbows off the back of the table he's leaning on, he regards Cage across the room, across the desk, across his coffee. "You've already made up your mind?" Luke sighs, and his expression softens. He uncrosses and stands up, coming around the front of his desk, to lean back and sit on the desk. He holds his hands out at his sides, palms forward. "You're right, Parley. There is no clear path. There's no clean break. Getting equal rights for mutants is going to be a messy, painful process. It could even break me." Cage takes a beat, just letting the admission sink in. Back to normal, Cage's words and empathic impulses are in sync again. "But this is my path, and I can't back away from it. I'll take all the support I can get, and I'd like to have you with us. But I'll understand either way. Things are gonna get more fucked up before they get better, and I intend to be in the middle of it. My goals /are/ peaceful. The biggest is an addition to the Bill of Rights to include mutants and mutant rights. But we'll have to start locally, of course. Like in Harlem, for example." In the silence following Luke's words, Parley's weighted, even features don't shift. His eyes remain directed downward, into the miniature swirls of cream and coffee looking back at him like the eye of a hurricane. "You're a very moving speaker, Luke Cage. When you need to be." That's all, for a moment. Luke offers a gentle smile, and looks like he's about to say something, when he's interrupted by Janice from the other room. The sound of her typing barely pauses when she calls back, "No shit, Sherlock." Luke snorts, stifling a laugh, but otherwise just sits quiet, giving Parley room and quiet to think. Sitting on the desk, he uses the toe of his boot to nudge a chair closer to Parley. "--it's not a matter of support, you know." Parley says it kind of like he's /snipping/, taking a suddenly vaguely pissed-off sip of coffee. "This world needs its..." he runs a cataloguing gaze down Cage, "... heroes." His eyes drop once more, and his voice is quiet enough that his lips barely move. "Especially in times like these." Abruptly, he sits down cup. And reaches for - a spoon! To stir with. "I won't follow you /blindly/, you know. You can expect me to argue with you." Luke doesn't hold back his smile at all. It cracks wide, and happy across his face. "If I want zombies, I'll take up voodoo." Cage pushes up to his feet and offers Parley his huge slab of a hand. "All I want is for you to know where I'm going, so you can decide to come along or not." Luke leaves his hand out there for as long as it takes, waiting, like a statue. Parley lets Luke /wait/ for it. He steps forward, coffee cup held casually up for a long sip as he inspects the large man's palm with an arched eyebrow. The corners of his eyes are tense, his free hand left to rest on his hip for a few long heart beats. Then, quietly, he reaches out, hesitates a final time. And clasps hands. For all the slow build-up, it's not actually a hesitant grip. The webbing between his thumb and forefinger presses firmly into Cages. "I'm probably going to regret this." He says it kind of /brightly/ behind his cup. "Probably," Luke says with a matching bright smile. He finishes the firm handshake without overdoing it, and walks back behind his desk, reaching for that file he put away earlier. "I'll be going high profile by the end of this week when I visit the church. I'll be supporting the 'fair trial' protesters. It doesn't matter if the killings were justified or not. They deserve a fair trial. Last I checked, we don't do lynchings in New York anymore." Cage flips open the file, and adds, "Good luck out there." "Just," Parley closes up his eyes as Cage starts TALKING. Like it /hurts/ to hear. "give me a heads up before you do anything rash?" He's turning for the exit, taking the remainder of his coffee with him. He poured it. It's HIS now. He exchanges a rather secretarial look with Janice over his glasses, as he passes her desk. And then makes his way back out into the sunlight once again.