Logs:Community Shame

Community Shame
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Flicker, Polaris	2019-11-08 "Any particular reason you expecting to not be on your feet later?"
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. As is usual for a Friday night, Evolve is bustling. There's a muffled thumping coming from the club above; the cafe itself is packed with a mix of those in dressed to kill for a night of dancing and those dressed contrastingly casual in comfortable activewear; the sprinkling of night owls just enjoying a snack or cocoa seem used to the hubbub, at least. Flicker has secured prime real estate -- tucked onto a couch near the back, he has a large mug of cocoa and a small plate of crispy buffalo cauliflower bites. He's dressed pretty much as per usual for him, khakis and a dark grey polo, today with a soft blue sweater over top in deference to the chill outside. "No no, it's fine," he's currently telling Dusk cheerfully, waggling a fork -- a piece of cauliflower speared on its end -- in his housemate's general direction. "The entire livestock industry, billionaires with their private jets, prioritizing cars over all the other more sustainable transit options, not a problem! Actually using my inhaler to breathe, though." The fork makes a slicing motion across his neck before he pops the cauliflower into his mouth. Dusk is draped across most of the rest of the couch, completely shameless in the space he's taking up in the crowded cafe. One of his legs is hooked languidly over Flicker's, his wings draped over the opposing armrest. He doesn't really look dressed for the outside chill at all -- jeans, a lightweight wrap shirt, a heavy cloak that was his concession to the weather shucked and draped over the back of the couch. "I mean yeah. I've always thought that when we get to guillotining, you'd be the first on the block. Completely reasonable honestly." He has no food, himself. Just a thermos he holds against his stomach, fingers tapping lightly against its heavily dented side. To judge by her outfit alone, Polaris must be here for the nightclub, though at the moment she is just loading up on calories and caffeine. She's not as eye-catching as some, her wardrobe being limited as yet, but beneath her black motorcycle jacket she's wearing a metallic green PVC corset, matching skintight pants, and polished if aged black boots, all with entirely more hardware than is necessary for fastening purposes. Her makeup is simple but striking, metallic green eyeshadow to match her nails, black eyeliner inexpertly winged, silver-tinted lipgloss and a dusting of silver highlighter. After some friendly repartee with Ravenna, she wanders out into the cafe carrying a large steaming mug and even larger plate of nachos, casting around for a place to sit. She brightens upon spotting the two men on the couch, and makes her way over. "Hey, boys. You think you can room for one more there?" She waggles her plate. "There's nachos in it for you." Though it does very little to clear space on the couch, Flicker sits up just a little when Polaris nears. "Oh, hey." His smile is quick. "You look nice. I'm --" He glances at Dusk briefly. "Pretty sure you could just sit on him and he'd be okay. He'll have easier nacho access that way anyway." He waves his hand (currently decorated in a tesselation of beige and white feathers, a slight flash of yellow highlighting on the underside of the arm that is only visible in small glimpses when his sleeve pulls back) around the cafe at large. "How's it been going here?" "Yo." Dusk waggles the thermos in lazy greeting to Polaris. He doesn't actually stir until the offer of nachos, slowly levering himself up on a wing and eying the plate hopefully. He pushes himself the rest of the way up, scooting closer to Flicker and reaching to nab a chip, licking a stray glob of guacamole from where it is trying to slide down his fingers. "Seating is not conditional, but I'm rarely going to say no to food or more snuggles." He's already draping one wing around Flicker, resettling himself comfortably against the other man's side. "How late you think you'll be out? I feel like maybe I might want to dance if I'm still on my feet at all later." Polaris practically glows at the compliment. "Thank you!" She sinks into the place Dusk vacates, tucking herself under his other wing. "The food isn't conditional, either," she adds, her smile twisting to one side, "it would just be a lot messier if shared from farther away." She takes a long pull of her coffee. "Man, I love this place. The cafés I worked at before all existed to fund infoshops or activism or terrorism..." Here she pauses and looks between Flicker and Dusk thoughtfully. "Anyway, like the food and coffee were kinda...eh? Like a means to an end. So it kinda blew my mind that stuff here is actually good? I could do without the tourists but other than that it's amazing." She holds up her mug. "This latte has three shots of espresso in it cuz I plan to dance all fucking night. Or, you know, until someone takes me home." Her eyes glitter with excitement and mirth. "Any particular reason you expecting to not be on your feet later?" Flicker's smile softens. He picks up his cocoa and relaxes back into Dusk, pulse speeding even as the rest of his posture eases comfortably. "You had cafes to fund terrorism?" His eyes are just a little wider when they focus back on Polaris, and then he's looking around Evolve thoughtfully. "Huh." He sips his cocoa appreciatively, nodding slow. "Shane worked a while at another coffee shop before this and they have solid drinks, too. And I think growing up with Jax kind of planted some of that cooking magic in him. But he's definitely prioritized people who know what they're doing in the kitchen. It's nice. The people who owned it before --" His shrug is small. His cheeks flush very faintly -- he glances between Polaris and Dusk quickly, but doesn't add anything else. Dusk's wings curl in comfortably, a low growl rumbling in his chest as the others settle in against him. He takes a sip from his thermos, stretches one leg out to rest his foot on a rung of the low table in front of them. "The people before him were human, and they didn't put half as much love into the menu. It was tolerable but it wasn't like you'd come here excited for a meal. He's really turned this place into something that's great to have and not, uh. Somewhere to just settle for because --" His wings squeeze gently against his friends. He rolls his head lazily to one side, looking Polaris over again. "If you're looking to go home with someone I doubt you'll be looking long. Me?" His fangs flash in a sharp grin. "I'm going next door to throw down. I end up facing Ion or someone, who knows if I'll be leaving in any kind of dancing shape." "Okay, maybe not funding terrorism directly, but also...sometimes, yeah." Polaris sounds incredibly matter-of-fact about this. "Shane is pretty amazing as bosses go, and it's great that this place is like...by and for us. Not that I haven't worked with some pretty amazing flatscans, too, but I'm just not about that life right now." Her shrug is small and casual, though the tightness beneath it easy for Dusk to feel as she curls closer to him. "It's just nice not to have to settle, you know?" Here she smiles again, though it's a little uncertain. "I'm not looking, but I'm probably not gonna say no, either, if someone offers and isn't obviously a creeper." This is also matter-of-fact, as she gulps down more caffeine. "Throw down?" Her brows wrinkle, then smooth out. "Oh, right! I keep hearing about it in passing and I'm curious as fuck but not sure how um. Secret? It's supposed to be?" "If Evolve keeps hiring us out of the labs, is that like. Funding terrorism by proxy?" Flicker takes a longer sip of his cocoa. Presses his cheek lightly to Dusk's wing. "Does the club have a lot of -- um. Creepers?" His eyes have lifted to the ceiling uncertainly. The smile that touches his lips after this is small, and fleeting. "It's not a secret. It's a pretty public community shame." "Proxy, please. Shane funds terrorism directly all the time, Polaris was living in his apartment for months." The low purr layered under Dusk's voice deepens; his wings rub gently back against the others' shoulders. "The bouncers try their best but it has a way higher volume of creepers than the cafe does, even. I wish I could say it's all human fetishists looking to get their freak on but -- by volume it's mostly self-hating mutants who think that the rest of us hate ourselves as much as they do. They think they'll have easy prey among people who nobody would look at twice in a human club." The breath he exhales at the end of this is sharp and hard, but it's followed quickly enough by a smile. "Speak for yourself, I'm not ashamed. I'm pretty sure the cops would want to kill me whether or not I spent my Fridays whaling on people who signed up for it." "I'm on terrorism sabbatical right now." Polaris says primly, no hint of actual defensiveness in her defense. She sets the nacho plate down across one folded knee and takes a long drink of latte, snapping her fingers quietly in Dusk's direction when he answers Flicker's question on creepers. Once she can speak again she nods. "I got a reverse of that once with someone who was into me because they thought I was human." She picks up a corn chip and goes around the plate, making sure it picks up a bit of each topping. "I mean, I've heard folks talk, I just wasn't sure what I was allowed to repeat." She cocks her head at Flicker. "Are you against it? Or was that more... representing the popular opinion?" Dusk has just been taking another pull from his thermos, quiet, but he lowers it with a sudden choked hitch of a laugh, his eyes wide and a deep red gleam on his bared teeth just before he licks it clean. His knuckles press to his lips, and he has to swallow before offering a very light: "Oh sure he's a really fierce opponent." "Terrorism sabbatical." Flicker echoes this slowly, a small smile curling at his mouth. "Huh." He opens his eyes wider, cheeks flushing deeply red. "Oh, um. No, I -- yes, I. Wait, does this have to be a binary choice?" "That means a break," Dusk offers in a stage whisper. "Like, rest? Anyway," this with a bright smile to Polaris, "is there an option for, goes but has deep internalized shame about it? I'm pretty sure that one applies to half this guy's life." "Wait, you?" Polaris blurts, studying Flicker with intense interest. "I mean, not that I had any doubts about your ability -- oh, um..." She ducks her head slightly. "I'll shut up if you'd rather not discuss your shame." Though she adds after a beat, trying to suppress a smile, "Your badass shame." Flicker ducks his head, rubbing his knuckles against one reddened cheek. "It isn't that badass -- I mean, I haven't even been since before -- it's been a while. I'd been thinking about getting back into it, but." A small twitch of shrug hitches at his shoulder. He offers the cauliflower bites out to the others. "I'm not ashamed, anyway. I just -- have a long enough list of things my bishop rides me about. I don't need to add bloodsports to the list." "He's underselling this, you have no idea. He's a fucking legend over there. Got a kind of Mean Girls vibe going on. People line up to get punched by him and tell stories about it years later." Dusk helps himself to a bite of cauliflower. "There's a bit of a high bar to be allowed to actually fight, but if people whaling on each other is your speed and you don't mind some blood , some of those matches are an entertaining time." "Oh man, go for it!" Polaris's girlish enthusiasm might jar a bit with her outfit until one considers what she is getting excited about. "If I run into your bishop, my lips are sealed." She makes a zipping motion across her mouth...and then immediately downs more coffee. "Do you have to like, try out? Audition? Cuz I am so down." There's a feverish gleam in her eyes as she helps herself to a chunk of cauliflower, offering her nachos where Flicker can reach, as well. "I...weirdly have gotten into fewer fights these last few years, so I'm rusty as fuck in the actually punching people department, but I've gotten a lot better at metalbending." Flicker works a chip free from the pile of toppings. Gently dabs it into the sour cream. His head is bowed as he nibbles on it, smile small and a little crooked as Dusk's praise. "Um. You mostly -- need one of the organizers to vouch for you. They need to know that you can control your powers, and that you can control yourself if someone's making you mad. It gets kind of volatile in there sometimes." His brows pull together thoughtfully. "I guess at this point it's mostly the Mongrels you need to convince." His mechanical fingers flex slowly. "You think it's too late to get Ion to let me on the card tonight?" "Metalbending is encouraged. Outside of don't bring the house down and don't kill the healers, rules for what is off limits during fights are kinda --" Dusk's hand wobbles side to side in the air. He only scoffs at Flicker's question. "For you? You'll get bumped to top billing for the night." He extricates his wings from around the others carefully, folding them at his back as he gets to his feet. "I'mm'a head over. Can I tell them to expect you?" The lift of his brows mirrors the hopeful lilt in his tone. Polaris listens to the two men while downing a mouthful of nachos, nodding periodically. Then, after another swig of coffee. "I can do all that. Well, I don't know about convincing anyone that I can, but I'm gonna give it a try. Not tonight, through!" She shifts aside to give Dusk more room to extract himself. "Do good punching, and maybe I'll see you on the dance floor later." At the question she looks to Flicker, as well, her smile ernest this time and not quite so intense. "Go get 'em, Flicker the Swift."