Logs:In Which an Evolve Barista Is Caught Off-Duty and Freaktown Receives an Uncertain New Visitor

In Which an Evolve Barista Is Caught Off-Duty and Freaktown Receives an Uncertain New Visitor
Dramatis Personae Elizabeth, Taylor	2024-03-14 "Well, I'm glad it's not because you're a squid."
Location <NYC> Freaktown - Riverdale
It's feeling like proper spring, now; bright and sunny and warm in a way that has lured lots of Freaktown outdoors. The mutant neighborhood, always chaotic, is even more abuzz today as people take advantage of the warmth while it's here. The many patios and balconies and yards surrounding the ~~stolen~~ liberated mansions are packed with people eating, smoking pot, swapping stories. The large central cul-de-sac that has become informal Town Square has more vendors than usual, booths and blankets spread on the ground selling and bartering everything from the mundane ('FRESH BAKED PIES', reads one stall, and 'TAROT READINGS' says another) to the esoteric ('erase your past sorrows' claims one young woman's sign and another, 'personalities altered'.) At one end of the bustle, a tall and muscular bald man with obsidian-black skin and a wealth of tentacles is leaning against the seat of a large and heavily modded motorcycle. Taylor is dressed in jeans, heavy boots, a short-sleeved tee that reads 'WHITE LIVES MATTER TOO MUCH' in bold white all-caps on the chest; he has a leather motorcycle vest on with a Jolly Roger insignia (though the skull has a Cthulhu-esque array of tentacles below it), the patches reading MUTANT MONGRELS MC EMPIRE STATE on the back rockers and SPLATOON ROAD CAPTAIN in smaller patches on the front. He's been having an animated conversation with another person -- man, woman, old, young, it's hard to tell; the other person is heavily armored in chitin, with veined insectoid wings and a sharp barbed tail and no eyes in evidence on their hard-shelled skull. The other person is taking off now, though, with a quiet chittering that doesn't quite sound like words, leaving Taylor alone by the bike. One of his tentacles is reaching up (and up, and up) to fix a sagging line of fairylights (there are many fairylights, hung liberally from all the buildings, posts, fences, all around the streets) that hang from a nearby light post. It's safe to say that while Elizabeth knew Freaktown existed, she had underestimated the town part of Freaktown. This place was huge by her standards. Then again, she knew these were... repurposed. Living on the streets, you hear rumors here and there, and she had heard much of the history of Freaktown in the past few years. But with the attack on it, she decided to stay far away. That time had passed, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Her tail flicking side to side, she examined the bustle, though made it obvious she wasn't actually interested in anything, as she didn't have a lot of money at the moment, and had to save what she had. And despite being an obvious mutant herself, the bug... person catches her off guard, but not in a repulsed way. She finds the person oddly beautiful, with their armor and various patterns of veins. The other one that takes her aback is the openly tall squid person. She recognizes this squid person, quite well in fact, that's the man who brews her tea! As she steps closer to him, she notes the Mongrels patches. While she doesn't hate them for obvious reasons, she can't say she agrees with all of their methods. Though, it isn't the Mongrels patches themselves that narrow her eyes in question, but the SPLATOON patch. Was that because he was a squid? That was a little... actually, was it insensitive at all? Did he choose it? Wear it with pride? Well, clearly. In any case, she steps forward, a strange mix of a Massachusetts (Salem, not Boston, thank you very much) and New York accent. "Do ya need any help there? Doesn't look like it, but- wait, you brew my tea. Sorry. The offer still stands, but I knew I knew you from somewhere." How did introductions work again? She stretches out her hand, offering it to either his tentacles or his hands, if he so chooses to shake her hand. "I'm Elizabeth. You probably recognize me too, I'm by the coffeeshop a lot." Taylor finishes tucking the string lights back in place and then turns toward Elizabeth. His brows hike up as he looks at her outstretched hand, and though his smile is immediate and warm, he doesn't shake her hand. He snaps, points -- "Yeah, yeah, sure I know you. Tea girl. I know all my regulars. Ain't seen you 'round this hood before though." He's leaning back up against the saddle of his bike, his eyes flicking downward in the general direction of his name and rank patch. "You think some Mongrels pin me down, make me wear their colors? You wear this 'course you proud to wear it." There's a warm amusement in his voice as the largest of his tentacles coil languidly around himself. "'sides, it's because I'm fucking deadly in paintball." It takes her off guard to learn he's a telepath, as she definitely didn't say any of that out loud. She hasn't met a telepath yet, until today. She's met teleporters, people with psychic powers of.. telekinesis or something, but a telepath? Those are Scary. But she puts her prejudices aside, willing herself to trust Taylor. He'd never done anything to anyone, really. At least, not that she knew. "Well, no, I didn't-" A nod. "You're a telepath. That must be interesting." "Well, I'm glad it's not because you're a squid." There's a lightheartedness to her tone as well, though there's an immediate anxiety spike as he speaks of how it was misconstrued that she believed he didn't wear it by choice. However, hearing his lightheartedness, she eases up a bit. "As for why I'm here, I figured I'd check it out. I'm living on the streets right now, partially by choice, partially by circumstance, but a whole community of people seems like a lot to manage." One of Taylor's many boneless arms is snaking upward, rubbing absently against the smooth top of his head as he laughs. "Girl, what'chu know about me? What'chu know 'bout us?" With the us he is flicking one of his smallest arms lightly against the Mongrels patch on his vest. "What on earth reason would you have to trust me, you ain't know nothing 'cept I make damn good tea." This sounds more bemused than critical, nothing sharp in Taylor's tone. "'course it's 'cuz I'm a squid, what's wrong with that? Should I be ashamed? Gonna keep being a squid, whether or not I'm rolling with people who embrace it, y'know?" Yet another arm is unfurling after this, gesturing outward to the chaotic neighborhood around them. "Anyway, you hard up for a place to stay, got some spare rooms 'round here. 'long as you don't mind the noise much. This place never dull." Admittedly, Elizabeth doesn't really know what to say to any of what Taylor says, as it's all valid points. She doesn't know anything about him, doesn't know anything, really, about the Mongrels. But that's part of the question. She's a bit new to the workings of Freaktown, of the Mongrels. Sure, she's heard of them, but how much does she really know? It's going to take time to figure that out. And maybe staying here wouldn't be a bad idea, but at the same time, she's wary. What if an attack happens again? What if she can't help people? What if she goes back to only looking out for herself? She doesn't know any of these people. Quite frankly, doesn't really care about a lot of them. But they're good people, or at least, they deserve a fair chance, same as him, same as her, same as any mutant that comes through. And she wishes she could shake off her own self stubbornness and actually do something about the issues that plague their kind. But the Brotherhood, as she's heard in the news, is not the way she wants to go about it. While she understands their message, she does not agree with the methods. And that's the difference. Taylor is studying Elizabeth intently through her silence, his brows slowly going up and his smile skewing a little sideways. There are several points where he looks almost on the verge of speaking, but checks himself with a deliberate effort. When the other woman says nothing at all he's just rubbing at his head again and climbing back onto his bike. "Well -- look around a bit, yeah? See if we the vibe fuh yuh. Don't gotta live here to chill here, sometimes it's nice to just be around our own, yeah?" He's tapping light at the easily recognizable insignia on his vest. "You do need anything, you ask any dog around, we got'cha back." Though he doesn't actually say bye, there's an air of finality to this statement, made more decisive still by the fact that he's turning the motorcycle on and coiling several spare arms tighter around himself in preparation to leave.