ArchivedLogs:Winter Coats

Winter Coats
Dramatis Personae Alex, Anole, Nick	2016-12-03 "Tourists will complain about /anything./"
Location <MOR> Welcome to the Freakshow
Wider and more spacious than many of the surrounding nooks and niches, this chill cavern is the central hub of the Morlock's underground network. With tunnels branching off in many directions, it takes a while to learn to /navigate/ from here to where you want to go, but there's generally plenty of more experienced people around to teach newcomers the ins and outs of the pathways. Here, though, is a safe place to come and relax, for what value of relaxation can be found among moss-covered walls and the occasional stagnant puddles on the floor. There's been furniture brought in, a mismatched assortment of crates, mattresses with busted springs, a few broken and subsequently repaired chairs, a folding table in a corner. Shelves along a wall hold entertainment; books, a smattering of board and card games, sometimes snacks. There's even electricity, wiring none too safe and visible in places where the wall has been broken open; the naked light bulbs flicker often and the lone outlet has had so many power strips attached it is undoubtedly a fire hazard. Down in the depths of the Morlock tunnels, day and night blend together under one continuous color, a light humming coming from the mishmash of flourescent lights. Though the weather in the city streets above is beginning to turn sharp and freezing, in the wide cavern at the heart of Morlock territory, the air remains the same almost year round: cold, even chilly, but warmed from the depths and from the movement of trains and water above and around them. Even the drop from the sun leaving the sky is muted, tempered, a difference of only degrees one way or the other. Sitting on one of the tables, legs kicking slowly back and forth in the air, a teenager is frowning down at a well-worn sketchpad sitting on his lap. Alex shifts his head back and forth, studying the page at different angles, occasionally reaching up to scratch at the thick matting of feathers on his head. His pencil scratches lightly at the surface of the paper, carefully adding to a sketch of the park, from a bird's eye view. Anole is just making his way into the gathering space from the maze of tunnels beyond. He has a bulging backpack on, strapped tightly to him as he skitters across the ceiling and makes his way down one wall. He hops up to crouch on a bench at Alex's table, unzipping his backpack to upend it onto the table beside the other teen. From it there comes a bounty of food -- for some value of bounty; a cache of variably flavoured Slim Jims, Hostess snack cakes, hot Cheetos, gas station boxed fruit pies. "Dinner," he carols brightly. "Some brain food to help with your drawing." Nick trails in Anole's wake at an easy lope, carrying his own backpack. He drops it on the floor beside Alex's table and shucks his Green Lantern hoodie, shaking himself all over to make his ruffled brown fur lie flat again. Underneath he wears a white t-shirt with blue text inside a paler blue droplet graphic reading 'Water is Life' and well broken-in blue jeans. "What's up?" He waves, peering at Alex's sketch, ears pricking upright. "The stuff in mine is less exciting." Alex turns and looks upwards, following Anole's path along the ceiling and giving him a smile. Nick, too, gets this smile shone at him. "Hey guys. Brought anything good?" He turns the sketch towards Nick for him to look closer, as he looks over the food. One hand reaches out and grabs one of the boxed fruit pies. "Oh, yeah, pie!" He flashes Anole a huge grin and, dropping the box on his lap, reaches out towards Anole with a fist. Bro. So choice. "Hopefully I'll be able to sell some of these soon, get us some cashflow. Gotta get ready for the holidays and all." Anole curls his clawed hand into a fist, returning the fistbump with a quick smile if some measure of caution. "I know a couple good streetcorners where people usually want. Touristy New York art and aren't already too -- claimed." He settles into a crouch, plucking up a cream-filled chocolate cake for himself. "Are you kidding, there's caffeine in yours. How is that less exciting?" Nick studies the sketch, cocking his head slightly. "Looking good!" He grabs a honey BBQ flavored Slim Jim and unzips his pack, setting aside the hoodies and bundles of socks on top and pulling out a bottle of Mountain Dew. "Cuz I'm hungrier than I am thirsty, I guess?" He grins, revealing a lot of gleaming white teeth. "Like always. Got some random sodas and juices, either you want any?" "Caffeine is important," Alex says, nodding sagely. "But I'm with you, Nick. Right now, much hungrier than thirsty." Flicking his wrist, Alex closes the sketchbook and places it to one side. Then, eagerly, he turns his attention to the box of sugar on his lap, opening it up with quick movements and a tilt of his head. "That'd be good, Anole. At least it's getting to be winter. Gives me an excuse to be bundled up; might be able to actually sell to some tourists that way." His voice is casual, even, level -- maybe a little bit too level, too controlled. "How's the weather up there, anyway?" He adds, quickly. "Pepsi," Anole requests. "It's awful. My blood was frozen in my veins. Nick thinks it was gorgeous but he's a little," he leans in to stage whisper to Alex, "crazypants. Holiday shopping is good wallet weather, though." This is brighter. Cheery. Nick is tearing into his Slim Jim with entirely more force than necessary. "It's a /bit/ chilly. Pleasantly so, for me!" He fishes a Pepsi from his backpack and passes it to Anole. "But I get it doesn't have the same appeal for people who don't grow their own winter coats." "Yeah, /Anole/." Alex says, grin widening. "Though, it's not really a winter coat, I guess. Winter..." The raccoon eyed teenager takes a bite of his pie, licking the crumbs off of the tip of two fingers. "Down, I guess? Feather-ing?" He shrugs, lifting up the pie again. "Either way, I'm certainly not looking forward to go up there dressed like this. But, I doubt I can sell sketches very well as an unkindness." Another shrug, another bite of pie. "Not so easy to give change with a beak, you know." "I don't know, it could probably make an interesting novelty. People are really into stories about how brilliant corvids are. If it got around that ravens were doing art and peddling it," Anole suggests with a small chuckle. "Maybe the /Village Voice/ would pick it up. You'd be personally responsible for a whole influx of tourists mobbing wherever you set up -- roost." He leans forward, snags the soda from Nick. "I'm collecting all the fur you shed," he adds. "Spinning it into my /own/ winter coat. Not all of us come by it natural." "I would /so/ buy art from a flock of birds. Or anyway, I would if I had money." Nick sits down cross-legged and twists open his soda, pouring it expertly down his throat. "Anyone down here have plans to make a winter clothing run? I mean, other than making a Nick fur coat, which..." He ducks his head, looking mildly embarrassed. "...might take a while." "Buy art, or take art from the apparently unstaffed booth?" Alex says, tilting his head to the side and eyeing both Anole and Nick out of only one eye. He tilts his head to the side again, studying them from a different angle, then turns both eyes down onto his pie. Piiie. The rest of the pie disappears into Alex's mouth in a moment, and the avian is silent while he chews and swallows. "I can usually get hats pretty easily. Gloves, too. Jackets are harder, though. Unless you know some place that sells them outdoors and not on hangers." Alex picks up the sketchbook and pencil again, flipping the book open to a new, blank page. He taps the eraser against his nose for a few moments before beginning to draw, light sketching lines outlining rough circles -- a head here, a body there, and then a smaller matching set next to it. Anole screws his face up, briefly grimacing. "Well, okay, um. That's when you go all Hitchcock on them?" His suggestion is not /overly/ confident. He devours his cake in a couple quick bites, and hops down off the bench. "I should take stock of what we /do/ have in storage. I think most of our winter clothes there are kind of -- um. Rags. And we've had a lot of new people flocking down here since --" Frown. "November." Nick's ears press back. "I'd try some of those shops along Canal Street in China town, the ones that are just open to the sidewalk and seem to sell everything? They usually have their seasonal shit right up front." He destroys his Slim Jim short order and washes it down with a long pour of Mountain Dew, then springs to his feet. "I'll give you a hand. Taking stock, and getting stock." His tail wags uncertainly. "I can haul a lot of weight, if nothing else." "Harder for them to catch me," Alex says, with a shrug. "Besides, we all look alike." A beat. Two. "Most New Yorkers can’t tell a crow from a raven, nevertheless one raven from another. What are they going to do, go to the cops complaining that a pigeon stole a jacket?" The teenager snorts as he starts to more firmly delineate the edges of faces, bodies, many light dashed lines becoming stronger, slimmer ones. "I bet some tourists totally /would/." This idea puts an amused smile on Anole's face. "Sure wouldn't say no to the help. Once we have a solid idea of what we're short on I'll tell you where to aim, but --" His face kind of scrunches up, a sheepish look cast to Alex, "I'm pretty sure the answer is just 'everything'." With a helpless shrug, he grabs another snack cake and his Pepsi, starting off towards the storage caverns. "Tourists will complain about /anything./ Probably think the wildlife doesn't belong in the city or something." Nick snorts, grinning wolfishly. "We could be such an epic raid party. Anyway, see you around, Alex!" He picks up his hoodie and trots off after Anole, tail swaying broad and slow behind him.