ArchivedLogs:You Show Me Yours...

You Show Me Yours...
Dramatis Personae Eric, Sebastian, Shane	2013-01-20 '
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Tucked down an alley, this out of the way coffeeshop is easy to miss if you don't know what you're looking for. Unassuming from the outside, its inside makes up for it -- spacious, with abundant seating and plenty of plush couches and cosy armchairs along the room's edges. The coffee is good, the prices are cheap, and there is a definitive alternative vibe to the room, from the music they play to the art that hangs on the walls. The real draw to this place, though, stems from its client base -- one of the very few businesses in the city that is welcoming to mutants, Evolve has become widely popular as a hangout with that crowd, and it is quite common to see them among clientele and employees both. At night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits over the coffeehouse. It's late, and from upstairs music thrums and pounds, audible only faintly through the soundproofing down here but moreso when the door opens and shuts to admit people to and from the club. Down in the coffeeshop below, though, one small blue teenager is curled into an armchair that dwarfs his diminutive frame. He /looks/ dressed for clubbing, tight black pants with a shimmery silver sheen, a mustard-yellow jacket draped over the arm of the couch, his tight shirt grey, pink-trimmed and silver-studded. He is not clubbing, though. He is focused on a laptop in his lap, occasionally leaning forward to claim a very large mug in front of him and sip from it. Stepping in from outside even as he flicks his cigarette to the curb, Eric steps into the room and glances around. He is dressed in clubbing gear as well, a dark blue-grey mesh undershirt with an open leather biker's jacket and a pair of black pants clinging to his hips, held up unnecessarily by a black and silver checkered belt. He steps over towards the counter, smiling flirtatiously at the woman behind the counter as he orders a coffee and turns, leaning against the counter, to look over the room. The boy's head lifts soon after Eric walks in, nostrils slightly flared and black eyes fixing on the police officer. He tracks Eric's path thoughtfully, webbed hands hovering over the keyboard though he doesn't type. He closes his laptop and sets it down, unfurling from his seat to pick up his mug, drain it, and trot back towards the counter. "Are you going to dance?" he asks right away, looking up (up!) at Eric. "Heya," Eric says, face lighting up as he waves at the teenager. He pauses for a moment, a brief, amused looking frown working its way onto his face. "I'm gonna guess that you're not Shane, since you're down here and not up there, yeah?" he says, face breaking into a grin. "Sebastian, wasn't it?" he says, reaching into his pocket to fish out his wallet to place several dollars onto the counter. "That's where I'm thinkin' of heading." "We're too young to be up there," Sebastian says with a quick curl of smile, warm and amused as he holds his mug against his chest. He rocks up onto his toes, giving large hopeful eyes to the barista as he offers his mug for a refill. "But I'm 'Bastian cuz Shane doesn't wear pink shoes generally. We were trying to guess what you do," he tells Eric, while he waits for his drink. "Like, what's a really good cop-mutation? I told Shane mutations don't work that way but he says I ruin all his fun. So okay, what's the best mutation you'd want on the job? I thought making people do what you tell them might be good but Shane says um --" Suddenly he blushes and shakes his head. "What /would/ you want?" Eric smirks slightly as the younger man blushes, and his eyes twinkle mischievously. "That would certainly be a useful mutation... but it's not the one I have. If I had to pick?" he purses his lips, thoughtfully looking up at the ceiling. "I dunno. Telekenesis would be cool. Telepathy, too. But I'm not gonna knock the one that I got, ya know?" he says, glancing up the stairs. "It's gotten me out of a few jams. A lot of jams." He turns back to flash the barista a smile as she passes his coffee to him, and he eagerly sips at it. "What was your guess? And where is he?" "I don't think you'd want telepathy," Sebastian objects with a shake of his head. "I know some people who do and it just seems like a pain all the time. Literally! So much headache. Plus half of them have been institutionalized at some point in their life, apparently people think you're crazy when you start hearing voices? It doesn't seem like good times." He shrugs his shoulders, dropping a hand to rest on the countertop. "I mean, like I said I thought compelling people do follow orders would be useful but ummm, Shane says the most useful thing --" He rubs at the back of his neck. "Would be altering paperwork." Shane is saying this from the top of the stairs, where he's just emerged from the club above, flushed and damp and a little bit wide-eyed, to bound down two at a time and /sling/ arms over Sebastian's shoulders, leaning on him from behind, "to cover up all the brutality. I guess that's what you all have coworkers for though eh?" Eric smirks as he looks at the other man. "I think we, by and large, have considerable restraint. After all, we didn't shoot your friend after he tackled a police officer in the middle of a riot. Hell, we didn't even book either of you." he drawls, taking another large swig of coffee. "Besides, altering memories would be more useful then altering paperwork. We're the ones who write the fuckin' paperwork in the first place," he says. A smile, hopeful look comes into his eyes. "Though a mutation that /did/ all of my paperwork, now that'd be fucking amazing." "You /didn't/," Sebastian agrees, quietly straightening under Shane's draping to cord up his shoulders into a firmer solid perch. "But that was because of you and you're a mutant so you were friendly. If you /did/ have tell-people-what-to-do powers, that would make so much sense. There's probably a mutant out there do does paperwork. That would be so useful!" "What's it you /do/ do, then?" The ridged plane of Shane's brow raises. "My Lieutenant was the one to let you go, not me. I just asked. And Maloney, too. Don't count us all out." Eric gives a little shrug of his shoulders, glancing around the room once more and taking another sip of coffee. He turns his attention back onto the twins as he replies, a smirk on his lips. "I'm hard to kill." "But would he have if you hadn't gone to bat for him?" Sebastian tilts his head slightly to one side, curious. "I mean," he glances back towards his brother, lifting his hands to rest them on Shane's arms where they drape over his shoulders, "we've had /lots/ of trouble with cops before and not lots of them stepping up to get us /out/ of it." "He's being generous. /I've/ had lots of trouble with cops before and he's gotten flak for wearing my face. Uh." Shane squints at Eric thoughtfully. "That's a mutation? It sounds like a /challenge/." "No, he'd have booked him for being involved with the riot, and your friend would have been in jail for years and years." Eric says, matter-of-factly. "But he assaulted a cop, and his friend battered one. Maloney could have shot that guy for what he did, instead of just pulling his tazer. Hitting a cop, in the middle of a riot, when he's alone and surrounded by protesters? Doesn't matter if you're a mutant or not; you're lucky to walk away from that shit." he shakes his head. "Look, I'm not saying that all of my co-workers are mutant lovers and would just be thrilled. Far from it. But...." he trails off, shrugging again. "We're not all bad people either." A smile grows on his face as he smirks at Shane. "Not exactly a good challenge. You lose, you lose, and you win, you just killed a cop." Sebastian shrugs a little uncomfortably, leaning back against Shane. Just for a moment, though. Then he is reclaiming his /new/ drink, and wriggling out from under Shane's arms to pay for it and take it away from the counter. "I'm finishing my homework," he informs Shane. "Don't get yourself killed." Shane lifts his hand, tracing an X over his heart solemnly to Sebastian. And completely unsolemnly turning an inquisitive look on Eric. "No, seriously though. If I tried would I not kill you? Not that I want to right now," he hastens to assure, "but it's interesting to know. I can see how that'd be useful in the beating and imprisoning people line of work." His teeth flash bright. "Not that I'm saying you're all bad people," he assures Eric. "Just, ninety-eight percent of you give the other two percent a bad name." "I doubt you'd be able to kill me, no." Eric says, taking another sip of his coffee and straightening up, pushing himself off of the counter and smiling down at Shane. "Don't get me wrong - letting you try would hurt like fucking hell, I'm sure, and I don't really want to be proved /wrong/, but... I've been blown up before, and that didn't kill me. Laid me out for a while, no question, but..." he trails off, shrugging his shoulders once. "You'd be surprised. In this city, I think the 'do all the paperwork' power would be a lot more useful for most of my job." he smirks and winks, playfully, at the other man. "Let's call it forty-sixty and call it even." Sebastian glances once more between the other two, murmurs something low against Shane's ear, and then slips back off with his drink to curl up in his chair again, opening his laptop to begin working once more. "Blown up? Thaaat doesn't sound pleasant, shit. Do people blow /up/ cops a lot because that sounds like a /lot/ of planning when you could just shoot them." Shane watches Sebastian head off, eying his brother's drink as his tongue flicks lightly out against his lips. "Forty-sixty sounds generous, I've met a loooot of the sixty and you're like. The first good one I've stumbled across in a while. For a given value of /good/, I guess, you /did/ let a criminal go because of -- why, again?" "Meth kitchens are a dangerous place. I don't recommend them for your next sight-seeing tour." Eric dead-pans, eyeing Shane with a growing smirk. "Because of your do-gooder spirit, of course." he rolls his eyes. "Because I thought you were him," he says, thumbing a finger in the direction that Sebastian had just left as he raises an eyebrow. "You two look a little bit alike. Don't know if anyone has ever mentioned it before." "Holy shit, you for real?" Shane's eyes fly open wide, and he looks over at Sebastian with a look of /shock/. "That dude stole my /face/, fuck, I think he might be a mutant, too. -- Ew. Meth is kind of gross anyway. Tried it once, not my thing." Eric reaches over and flicks the tip of Shane's nose, gently. "You do realize you just confessed to a felony in front of a police officer, yeah?" he drawls, giving the other man a bemused look as he glances back over at Sebastian. "I imagine your brother would tell you that wasn't the smartest thing in the world to do." Shane holds out his hands, obligingly. "You gonna arrest me?" he wants to know, head tilting to one side. "Do you bring your handcuffs clubbing, I bet some people'd be /into/ that. But you'll have your work cut /out/ for you if you arrest every person in this city who's ever tried drugs." His wrists wiggle at Eric. Right there. Arrestable. Eric does not have cuffs on him, but he grabs the other man's wrists in a strong grip, grinning at him. "Sadly, I left them at home." he says, eyes twinkling as he pulls forward ever-so-slightly, tugging the teenager slightly off balance. "Sometimes. Not when I'm in these clothes, though. Nowhere to put them." he says, using his free hand to gesture to himself with a smirk. Tugging on Shane's wrists finds skin rough-sharp, prone to abrading or even cutting if brushed against the wrong way. The teenager's eyes widen as he stumbles forward, catches himself, scowls with /intense/ and exaggerated ferocity at Eric. "/Disappointing/," he decides, but then, with a quick flash of teeth, "I bet I could find a place for them." His thin wrists tug against Eric's grip. "But it's a moot point. Cuz you're not arresting me. Right?" Eric's grip remains firm even as the other man falls forward, though he uses his grip to help break the fall. The roughness of the skin causes him to wince slightly as it bites into his hands, but he doesn't seem to mind all too much, even if it causes his skin to get scraped or cut. A few moments after it has been damaged, even cut, it is healed without a trace. His grin grows at the flash of teeth. "No, I'm not." he says, with a wink. He drops his hand from around the other man's wrists. "Though it is tempting." Shane is watching Eric's hands, as they're scraped, as they heal, and his eyebrows raise, maybe-curious maybe-impressed. He reaches for one of Eric's hands once it's dropped, lifting it and turning it over to examine the man's palm. "Huh. I know a guy --" He trails off. "Would you arrest me if I cut you?" "Hey. I'm showing you mine," Shane says, shark-teeth flashing bright as he -- well. Continues. To be blue. "Only fair you show me yours." One claw extends, his other hand still holding Eric's up, and for a moment his dark eyes lift to the other man's, watching as he digs his claw in against the inside of Eric's wrist, its sharp point easily slicing flesh. He drags it downwards, gaze dropping from eyes to skin as it is pulled open. "/Hey/," says the barista, warningly, "not near the counter, yeah?" Eric hisses softly in pain as the flesh parts easily, teeth gritting in pain. His free, undamaged hand comes down to clamp down, hard, on Shane's shoulder, steadying himself. Blood wells up from the skin marks, pooling up between the cleanly sliced edges of skin. But just as it threatens to spill over the flaps of flesh and onto the clean(ish) floor, the blood hardens and scabs over before Shane's eyes. The two halves of skin fold back onto each other in a mirror-image of the way they had been cut, knitting themselves together until all that remains is a thin line of scab, then scar, then unmarred flesh. "Shiiit, wow." Shane is watching this with brows hiking up even further, shoulder tensed beneath Eric's hard grip. He is reaching towards the skin, finger brushing down over what had just been a cut, but drops his hand at another warning look from the barista. "Not doing it again, don't worry! Just, shit, did you /see/ that?" "I saw it," says the woman, in a tone that suggests she has seen /lots/ and is not impressed. "That's pretty fucking badass. I guess less useful with paperwork. Uh. I mean, I guess you can heal all your papercuts like nobody's business!" Shane's eyes narrow up at Eric, contemplatively. "Seems like it hurts anyway, though. Why'd you let me cut you? Anyone ever tell you," he asks, with a thin smile, "that you're kind of a freak?" Eric gives the barista a grin, and Shane an even bigger one. "It hurts just like it would if you cut you," he drawls, winking at the other man playfully and slinging an arm around his shoulders. "People tell me I'm a freak all the time. Admittedly, it is not usually in the middle of a cafe, but... all the same." he drawls, accent getting thicker towards the end of his sentence. "Besides. It is cool to watch, no?" "Yeah. Hell. I'd totally cut you again." Shane says this like he is offering to give Eric a kiss. With his claws. "But not here, she'd kill me." He grins at the barista. She smiles back, /patiently/. Her, "I appreciate that," is dryyyy. Eric leans in closer to Shane's ear, murmuring, "I bet /she/ could kill me. I might even let her." he says, tugging him away from the counter. "Mind if I grab a smoke?" he asks, as he breaks away from the other man and heads towards the door. It is a question, but he seems to be going either way, already patting down his jacket for his carton of cigarettes. Shane looks over the barista, thoughtful. "Could you kill him?" he asks her, seriously. "Not on my shift," she answers back. Shane smirks at this answer, letting himself be tugged away. "She does have a lot going for her. Purple hair. Attitude. I don't know," he adds, "I only mind if you don't share." He is stopping by Sebastian's chair on the way out, grabbing his brother's yellow jacket to pull it on. "I keep telling my ex that, but he doesn't seem to appreciate it. Probably why I keep getting thrown out and being his ex." Eric drawls, tapping the carton against his palm for a moment as he steps out the doors before removing a cigarette from inside and placing it in his mouth. "Share and share alike. Ain't nothing wrong with that." He fishes into his jacket for his lighter, pulling out a Zippo that has definitely seen better days to light the end of it. He takes a deep drag then blows it out through his nose, smoke rising in a plume into the air. "I /guess/ people feel differently about that philosophy with people than they do with cigarettes," Shane surmises wryly. He is smirking as he streeeetches up onto his toes to pluck the cigarette straight from Eric's lips and take a drag. "Don't know, though, is it really /cheating/ if you share?" Eric smirks at the other man as his cigarette is stolen, and he takes a step closer to the other man, leaning down to take the cigarette back with his teeth. He turns it around with his fingers, though, as he straightens up, and drags another heavy drag on it. He pulls it out of his lips between two fingers and proffers it to the teenager once more. "Not at all. Two people can be more fun, if you're in bed with both of them at the same time. One can be quite good, though, if it's the right one." he says, with a playful wink. Shane watches this with brows raising, his teeth bared in a grin when he takes the cigarette back. "Yeah? And what makes someone the right one?" The boy pulls from the cigarette, deep, tapping ash out against the icy ground afterwards. "Prooobably best to be on the same page as the person you're seeing about that kinda thing, though." "Hot. Great in bed. Funny." Eric waves his hand, shrugging his shoulders. "All sorts of people are the right kind of people. Me, especially." he says, smile breaking into a playful grin. "Yeah. Well, Mark and I are on-again, off-again. But he still lets me crash on his couch most of the time. I'm too fantastic of a lay to get rid of entirely, apparently." He smirks and shakes his head, clearly amused at his own joke. "So you're like a whore," Shane declares. "He gives you free rent, you give him your cock. You /know/ prostitutions illegal, right, officer?" After which he frowns. "-- Uh. Don't cops get paid?" He sucks at the cigarette again, blowing out a stream of smoke before handing it back. "I mean, for /not/-sex. Just for the other kind of fucking people." Eric laughs and his eyes twinkle. "Perhaps. I like to think of it as a little better than that, but..." he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly unbothered by the comparison. "Yeah, we do. But not very much. I'm looking for a place, but I haven't found one that fits, yet. I'm looking more, now, than I was before. We've been in a rocky patch for a while, and I think we might actually be through now. I don't want to take up space on his couch if we're not gonna get back together, you know? I'm not /that/ much of an asshole." "How much of an asshole /are/ you?" Shane's hands rub briskly together once he is no longer smoking, breath steaming in the air as he breathes on his fingertips. "Yeah? Where you looking? It can be hard to -- well. Okay. Maybe not for you, you don't /look/ like a freak." "But I am a freak, and I don't want to live somewhere where I have to hide it, you know?" Eric says, shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah, I don't look like one, but..." he trails off, lips quirking. "And I'm also a cop. So there's that, too." he says, taking another drag on the cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air. He drops the butt on the ground, grinding it out beneath one heel. "Back inside?" he asks. "Does that make it harder? I mean who's gonna tell a cop they're not /allowed/ to rent their apartment that seems like a fast track to getting arrested." Shane nods at the question, hasty to pll the door open and relieved once they are back in the warmth. He sheds his jacket, tipping his chin towards the stairs up as he ambles over to return it to his brother's armchair. "You were here to dance, yeah?" His eyes sweep Eric's outfit. "C'mon." "Harder if I am looking for roommates who are mutants," Eric counters, following Shane towards the stairs, with a very brief ruffle of Sebastian's hair on his way up. "Are you askin' me to dance?" he drawls, eyes flashing mischievously. Sebastian's hair, much like Shane's, is plasticky-prickly, more prone to poking than easy ruffling. Shane grins, answering Eric not with words but with a hand extended invitingly for the older man's. Eric takes the other man's hand, thumb gliding over the surface of his skin backwards and forwards once, twice. His eyes sparkle and he tugs the other man eagerly towards the dance floor, letting the music wash over them as they enter the club proper. "Come on," he says, urging the teenager forward into the crowd. The brush of thumb against his skin draws Shane's smile wider. He is easily urged, drawing Eric along too into the crowd as he starts to move to the music.