ArchivedLogs:The Mettle of Superheroes

The Mettle of Superheroes
Seriously, though, can we put this Lucien Green Arrow cosplay to a vote? ^_~
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Matt, Nox, Micah	26 February 2013 A somewhat unlikely group sets up for a nice meal in a diner.
Location <NYC> Home - Greenwich Village
Nestled into the heart of the Village, Home is an unobtrusive place, with an unobtrusive name to match. A nondescript storefront opens up into an equally nondescript cafe, plain tiled floors, an assortment of veneered tables with plain wooden chairs or booths with cracking vinyl benches. What it /does/ have to recommend it is the food, hearty solid breakfast and brunch served twenty-four hours a day. Known to locals and little frequented by tourists, its friendly serving staff tend to remember their regulars, giving the place a warm feel that lives up to its name. It's dark outside, now. Not particularly time for breakfast and yet this is what Lucien is doing. In company with his brother, he sits tucked at a table near the front of the cafe, giving him a view of the large windows to outside and also the door. A chair has been moved aside from the table to make room for Matt's wheelchair instead, the young man nestled in it along with a pair of blankets, a green knit cap pulled down over his head. Matt has a large glass of orange juice in front of him, as well as a waffle heaped high with banana slices. Lucien has opted for an omelette, filled with spinach, feta, red onions, black olives; there's a side of sausage on a small plate beside it. "{-- would have been so easy,}" Lucien is lamenting quietly in French. "{And yet.}" "{Nothing's ever /so easy/,}" Matt answers him, toying with a banana slice but not eating it. "{Just ask that Spider-kid.}" It is dark, and smart little shadows are tucked safe in the quiet abyss. Nox suffers a predicament, however--she has a bag with her and bags require carrying. So, in spite of the weather, which is verging on wet and freezing, she presses on down the sidewalk with the aforementioned bag over her increasingly soggy shoulder. Her hood is down--no damage can be done her hair, which falls past her shoulders tonight in its restless, coiling manner--and her eyes seem larger in the gloom. Often she'll shy from the warm glow of restaurant windows when she passes them, because no one cares to be ogled by the itinerant poor, but there is something about the ambiance of Home that draws a look. And then look becomes approach, and approach turns into a dark fingertip touched to glass as she peers inside at the man in the wheelchair. Her head tilts and she smiles, just before tapping to get the pair's attention. Micah wanders through the door in his orange Jayne hat and green puffy coat: apparently his uniform until it is officially /spring/ outside. People have been calling it warm, but they /lie/. He had been singing his way down the street, but has switched over to humming softly now that he is indoors--“Mister Cellophane” from /Chicago/. He pulls the hat off as his eyes wander the room in search of a seat to flop himself in, when he unexpectedly spots a familiar face. The hum is replaced with a smile. “Lucien, hi!” He offers a wave from where he is, but doesn’t head over. Lucien already has company. Lucien's expression has tightened with irritation at the mention of spider-kid, but this eases as Micah enters with his humming. Almost unconsciously, Lucien joins in the melody, quietly picking up the musical number where Micah left off. "Micah," he greets, after a measure or so of humming, "Good evening." Despite the already-company, he's gesturing Micah over. "Have you met my brother, Matt? He was there after the, ah, /war/, but --" The young man in the wheelchair looks up, his smile warm and bright despite his pale gaunt face. "-- but I was kinda sleeping the whole way through, no, we didn't really meet. Hi." He's turning at the tapping, squinting out into the gloom and then flashing that same smile towards the window. "Oh! Oh, it's Nox, Luci, you should invite -- wait, is it bad for her in here? Um." Now he looks a little fretty-worried, even as Lucien is standing from his chair. "Would you care to join us?" he's asking Micah, even while glancing to the window. "Could you excuse me a moment? I see a friend." Offering a smile earns Matt a wave, her hand moving slowly to ensure the gesture is seen. But when Lucien stands up, Nox looks briefly alarmed and glances off to the side as if searching for the cause. She's a little slow this evening, or so it would seem. Eventually her features rearrange into a classic look of 'oops' and the woman is soon shaking her head at Lucien, trying to indicate he needn't trouble himself and...and...oh bother. With a wince, she steps towards the door with her sodden bag hanging from one hand while the other works to draw her hood up to hide as much of her hair and face as she can. The door cracks open, the mutant woman eases inside but she's hanging back--even when Micah is spotted there ahead of her--due to keeping an eye out for the owners and/or servers while still looking for Lucien. Micah /beams/ at Lucien when he picks up the tune. He trots over to their table. “I hadn’t really met Matt yet, no. Good to now, though!” Matt gets a grin aimed his way, too, as Micah slides into an open seat, pulling himself out of his coat--a little ginger about how he positions that left shoulder in the process. Still more rehab. before it’s back to 100 percent. And then a certain name steals his attention completely. “Did you say Nox?” He peers around, head bobbing like a curious bird’s as he tries to see out the window. Lucien heads for the door, smiling when he sees Nox there. "Nox. Good evening. You seem --" His lips twitch, slightly. He eyes her, hood and bag and sodden and all. "Wet and cold. Would you care for a meal?" A couple of the patrons scattered around the room, looking towards Nox with varying apprehension and hostility, but the one server in the dining room at the moment just looks towards Nox, and looks towards Lucien, and picks up another menu with a lift of her eyebrows. "Nox, yeah. D'you know her too?" Matt is still smiling, as he settles back in his chair. He lifts the banana slice up to his mouth, nibbling at it slowly. "Are you hurt?" He's looking towards Micah's shoulder, as he removes the jacket carefully. "Mister Tessier," Nox murmurs, looking past Lucien's shoulder first at those staring patrons and then at the server. "I didn't intend to be a bother. I only saw Matt through the window and I thought..." She doesn't finish, partly because she can't quite articulate what was thought and partly because it is warm, as well as dry, and the cold seeps in when she can't phase out. A small smile is managed, while her fingers tug her hood a little further forward. "If it would not be an inconvenience or a scandal, I would be happy to join you. Just to catch up?" “On the mend,” Micah answers Matt’s second question first. “Shoulders are dopey. Lots of range of motion, not much stability. Takes forever to get them back where they belong. That’s what comes of getting into street brawls, I guess. Nox actually rescued me.” That endless grin morphs itself a bit wider and dopier. Which reminds him: lady joining the table. He springs up and pulls out the last empty chair for her. "You got into a brawl?" Matt sounds kind of concerned at this, looking Micah over with a quick frown. "That's, I mean, um. I guess I'm supposed to say badass but I don't have nearly enough testosterone for that, you should be careful. Nox rescued you?" He glances towards the shadow-woman, a little puzzled, and it's lighter and almost joking when he says, "It wasn't with a scary dude with a melty face, was it?" "You thought --?" Lucien prompts, absently. He tips his head in a nod to the server, holding up two fingers as he indicates Micah recently joined their table as well. "I am glad you did notice him. Please, join us. I cannot promise," he says as he heads back towards the table, "that Matt will not be scandalized. It has been a long while," he claps a hand down on the back of his brother's wheelchair, "since he shared a meal with a lady." Matt tips his head back to stick his tongue out at Lucien. "Ladies still love me," he informs his brother. "I mean, at least, the nurses are always bringing me /extra/ jello." "I thought I should say hello and share a smile." Having said this, she smiles again but for Lucien's sake. Then she's tailing him through the dining room, head down and hand maintaining a firm grip on the shopping bag. It is large and bulky, bouncing occasionally against her leg. "A lady would have known to dress suitably for the occasion." Nox sounds so very solemn as she imparts this wisdom by way of greeting the table. The whispering helps with that. "Matt. Micah. It is very good to see you. Thank you for having me." All very formal, very proper, but she slides into the chair Micah is holding for her with a soft sound of relief. There is a muted squishing sound beneath the table as toes are wiggled inside of sodden tennis shoes. "How is everyone?" “Well, I got into an arm-bar, but that sounds /way/ less interesting.” Micah admits with a chuckle. “Seriously, though, did /everyone/ get the warning about that guy but me? I’m the only one standing around like, ‘Oh, sorry I was in your way, Mr. War Vet.’ Everybody else is all, ‘Blargh, he will melt your face!’” Finger waggling is necessary to illustrate this. Micah offers Nox a warm smile (gosh, but folks are smiley tonight!) as she settles in, then takes his own seat. “Happy to have you, of course.” "We ran into him in a park, he was way creepy," Matt informs Micah, "though I'm glad he didn't melt your face, it's a nice face. I think you're dressed fine," he adds to Nox, "/I'm/ in a blanket and nobody's complaining." He might have clothes on under the blanket, actually, but who's counting. The server is putting down a pair of menus, filling up a pair of new glasses with water. Lucien takes his seat again, poking at his omelette. "You could share a smile, and some of this omelette. It is enormous. How are you, Nox? Past wet and cold?" "I don't believe Masque is appropriate dinner table conversation," Nox chides them lightly, "and you, I believe," to Matt, "likely enjoy scandalizing people in your blanket. Making them wonder if you're some mad wheelchair-bound streaker." The latter portion of that statement is unmistakably teasing. She curls her fingers under the offered menu when it appears before her, but glances only briefly at it before it's set aside. "It does look delicious, thank you, Mister Tessier. I've been well. Someone made a late donation of clothing, it's why I was caught outside. Micah might remember him. The fellow we met in the park? The angry one." “You and me both,” Micah nods to Matt and somehow actually manages to ride out a compliment /without/ his face changing colours. “Hey, that blanket looks terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future.” He smirks at Matt, then looks back to Nox. “You dressed fine. The /weather/ dressed annoying.” Micah quirks a brow at Nox’s mention of the park guy. “Dan? He brought you clothes? Huh. Well, good on Cap’n Cranky-pants. Never rule out people’s ability to grow out of their own ignorance. I’m glad to hear it. Hope his back was feeling better, too…” He glances at Lucien’s plate instead of the menu. “Omelette! You are a genius. I should get one of those with /all the vegetables/.” Such is requested politely of the server, with ‘all the vegetables’ pared down to just tomatoes, mushrooms, and spinach. "Everyone just /wishes/ they could see what I'm packing under this blanket," Matt says with a slight waggle of his eyebrows to Nox, and then leans in to confide in stage-whisper to the table: "It's /more blanket/." It's true. His blankets are layered. "They /are/ mad comfortable. Angry clothing donation? That's -- I don't know what that is." "Even obnoxious people can be have their moments," Lucien answers, with a twitch of his lips that /might/ be self-directed. He slices his omelette neatly in half, taking the plate with his sausages to slide one patty to his plate and add half the omelette to the sausage-plate with the second patty. This plate he offers to Nox -- or, well, really just sets down in front of Nox. "How has putting down roots been going for you, of late?" He's asking this of Micah, eyebrows lifting questioningly. Maybe it's Micah's nickname for Dan, or Matt's well-timed eyebrow waggle and quip about the blankets, but Nox dips her head and raises her hand to press her fingers over her lips. As if she /could/ laugh and needs to stifle the sound. "He apologized," she says through her fingertips, "in a way. It was an immense leap for someone who professes to be frightened of mutants. We can hope more follow that lead." Her amusement fading, she nods to Lucien in thanks and reaches for her fork to begin sectioning both the omelette and half-sausage. "Are you the roving sort, Micah?" she asks while she works. Matt earns a snort of laughter from Micah. “Oh, you fabric tease…” He flutters a hand in Matt’s direction. “Score one for enlightenment,” he then offers in response to Nox’s tale. Lucien’s roots query and Nox’s question about roving are answered together. “It’s been going kind of amazing. I have been making friends with superheroes at a rate that may cause the Justice League to go green with envy. But, yeah. I’m still a van gypsy for the foreseeable future. Which is why I’m missing the heck out of the veggies. I got spoiled with gardens and chickens right on the land when I was growing up. Well…less the chickens. They have rancid personalities.” His nose is crinkled in time with this last comment. "Frightened of mutants?" Matt's eyes widen, mock-incredulously. "What's there to be frightened of? It's not like they can melt your face or stop your brain or order you to lie down in traffic or anything." "It's not like they can melt /your/ face," Lucien corrects, dryly. "Not everyone is so blessed." "What makes someone a superhero? Luci's practicing to be the Green Arrow," Matt informs Micah. "But we need someone to make him super high-tech arrows." "Archery is an enjoyable hobby," Lucien says, with a bland patience that suggests they have had this conversation before, "I have no intentions of crime fighting." "But," Matt is turning his eyes to Nox, now, "don't you think he'd look great in green leather?" Lucien scrubs at his cheek with his knuckles. "If you are really longing for fresh produce," he offers to Micah, instead, "you might join us for a meal some time. We live in this neighborhood. In warmer weather I even grow a fair bit, in the garden." The advantages of dining out while getting to know people is that references that fly over one's head can be allowed to just...go. Nox is listening, being good at that, and forking up small, polite bites as the gentlemen talk. Justice League? She doesn't understand. Green Arrow? Again, no dice. But she looks brightly--or darkly--from one to the next as each speaks up, smiling while she chews. They are if nothing else entertaining. "I did not realize you live out of your van," she murmurs to Micah, a point of interest rather than judgment. Talk of green leather brings distraction though and she's soon studying the brothers to see if she's being teased for /her/ teasing. "I am a poor judge of fashion, I'm afraid to say.../can/ you practice archery in the city?" “Well, I guess it’s just havin’ superpowers and using them for good. Or at least /not/ usin’ them for blargh-I-melt-your-face. Like Hive was tellin’ me the other day, sure maybe he can melt your brain, but he could also go around punchin’ everyone in the face, but he doesn’t do that, either. And it doesn’t take a mutant to be scary. I could run around with a shotgun and have years worth of deer tell ya it wouldn’t end well. So, yeah. I’m not scared of mutants. I’m scared of people in need of a good mental health professional who /don’t have one/.” Matt’s Green Arrow commentary earns Lucien a long, appraising look. “Brother’s got a /point/ on that outfit, though, Lucien.” He taps a finger against his chin a moment, exaggerated-thoughtfully. He clears his throat softly before jumping back on more serious conversation. “Seriously, though? I offer an extra pair of hands come spring if you need ‘em to get the garden ready. I have been missin’ playin’ in the dirt.” "Goodness, if all it takes to be a superhero is /not/ punching people in the face, I should get a medal," Lucien says dryly, "just today alone I have refrained from punching /several/ people who I was sorely tempted to." His lips just twitch at the mention of green leather, the look he slants to Matt perhaps amused. Perhaps /exasperated/. Definitely brotherish. "I do not /have/ any green leather." "/Lies/, you've got a jacket, that's a start. There's two ranges in the city you can practice at," Matt answers Nox, a little brighter, a little more animated. "They're both in Queens but that's where we're from anyway. You know, most people in need of a good mental health professional probably don't have one," he adds, with a trace of regret, "it's so hard to find insurance that'll cover things /properly/." "I have dirt." This might be an offer. Maybe it's just an announcement. Lucien's eying Micah consideringly, though. "But you are welcome to dinner /before/ spring." "Please do not run around with a shotgun," Nox puts in but that is her only interjection during Micah's story-telling. He's doing an excellent job of amusing the woman. Tendrils of her hair are escaping the edges of her hood, drifting around her face, and there are actual points of light reflected in her eyes as she watches him and his play-acting. "I think you are doomed to green leather," she asides to Lucien after another bite. "But what he says is true. Given the proper tools, anyone can be frightening. Even Matt, I'm sure, or you, Lucien. Depending on the cut of the leather. Insurance brokers, especially frightening." Oho, see how she snuck that one in there? The woman is pleased with herself. One more question before she returns to eating: "Who is Hive, and how can he melt one's brain?" The brotherly ribbing is obviously entertaining Micah, too, leaving him grinning in that way that ends up with top teeth biting gently on bottom lip. But then… “Don’t even get me /started/ on insurance, either. They are the /bane/ of my existence. Thank all the holies for Janine dealing with all that billing nonsense for me. You’d think we were trying to /rob/ them just to get a kid in a power wheelchair. I’ll have to take you up on that offer, though, Lucien.” He’s bouncing all over the conversation like a Jack Russell. “And don’t worry, Nox. I don’t even /have/ a shotgun up here. Little bit less woods to clear of deer and…uh…anywhere to dress ‘em proper. Or store ‘em. No point hunting if y’can’t handle the meat.” He pauses a beat. “Oh, Hive. One of my new superhero team. Telepath. Might be joking about the brain melting. Might not. Don’t know his skillset so well yet.” A light chuckle comes with that explanation. "Hive's a geek," is Matt's contribution to this explanation, regardless that this has nothing to do with brain melting. He's carefully picking another slice of banana off his waffle. Nibbling it slowly. "I'm totally terrifying," he adds, nodding emphatic agreement with Nox. "You should try me in Scrabble sometime, it's usually a /slaughter/. Do you really have a /team/? Is Scrabble an okay superpower to join?" He's glancing up as the server returns with Micah's order. Setting it down. Asking if she can get anyone anything else. Lucien declines with a polite thanks. "And to think that I had thought superheroes were myth and ink on colorful pages," Nox murmurs. "Tell me more about this supposed mastery of Scrabble." Bless Matt for bringing up Scrabble--/that/ is a reference that she recognizes. As the conversation winds on, and the dinner winds down, she even relaxes enough to contribute the soft humming that marks her attempts at laughing. The three of them prove to be good at that, creating the sort of warm, golden atmosphere that the windows of Home had promised from the street.