Logs:Less Economics and Better TV
| Less Economics and Better TV | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2023-05-22 "There's a whole other set of laws if you're a mutant." |
| Location | |
The sign by the door says "Rec Room", but someone with a permanent marker bookended the first word with "W" and "k" at some point, and the subsequent effort to undo the vandalism was lackluster. Inside it looks little different from dozens of other rec rooms in the complex, solidly furnished and in good repair, rarely an actual wreck, though it might be more interesting if it were. A large flatscreen television mounted on the wall dominates the space, with rows of folding chairs arrayed before it and many more stowed in the closet except on movie nights. The rest of the space is divided about evenly between reading and "activity" areas. A long sectional sofa brackets off the former, leaving the wallspace free for tall shelves, largely stocked with supermarket checkout paperbacks (about half James Patterson by volume, with Danielle Steel heavily represented). The latter plays host to several sagging card tables ringed with yet more folding chairs, supplied by tall shelves of games (mostly playing cards, chess, and Monopoly, variously missing pieces) and art supplies (a lot of crayons and pencils and markers, with some dried out paints and crunchy brushes). It's getting late; nighttime head count will happen soon enough, but while they still have a little bit of free time left the hodgepodge of Lassiter labrats is making the most of these crumbs of freedom. The not wrecked Rec Room is at a muted level of roughhousing and the television in the W(rec)k Room has been turned down low, a rerun of Law & Order playing on the screen. Avi has been hanging out over in one corner, hopped up onto the back of the sofa with his legs dangling over the side. He has a deck of cards in hand -- one of the oldest and worst ones here, it's been missing Quite A Few cards for Quite A Long time -- and is just passing off one of them to the tall Black woman who has been running the kitchens for a minute. "-- Like an IOU, aight?" he's telling Amethyst with a broad smile, offering her an elbow tap in lieu of fist bump as she wanders off and he returns to shuffling the shitty old cards. Roscoe is slumped at the other end of the sofa, watching Law & Order intently with a look of faint disgust, gnawing at his thumbnail. He's been uncharacteristically quiet all evening, pensive even. He looks over his shoulder as Amethyst leaves; looks at Avi; looks back at Law & Order; swivels to look at Avi again, slumping in a more pronounced slouch against the arm of the sofa. "You been here for like barely two weeks, and already you got people taking a IOU?" he says -- his grin, tucked around his braces, is small and disappears quickly. "Shoot, she really likes you." "Hell naw," Avi waves away this suggestion with a sharp hook of smile. "She like the spendy-ass hot sauce they got in commissary and my crew flush right now. Need a ramen hookup? I'm finna one-red-paperclip us into a yacht any day now." He is sliding down to sit on the couch with a whumph, tapping the stack of cards against his knee. "Bribery's a solid route to strong friendships, though. Guessing round here more than out there, even." Roscoe does not unslouch himself, his thumb still tucked against his lips, but his posture shifts nonetheless with distinct interest -- "You guys have money?" He seems to decide this isn't something to ask about -- he just furrows his brow. "Man, and I've been giving you people advice out of the goodness of my heart, when I clearly should've been angling for favours." This lapse in economic sense doesn't seem to weigh too much on him -- he shrugs, all elbows and shoulders, before pulling his feet up onto the cushion with him, wrapping his arms around his legs. "Sure, just keep an eye on your balance. You got an economics class at that school?" "Didn't have none when we got here. Someone's ma just loaded up their commissary account. Might be able to haggle some people down from jumping your cellie twice erry morning before breakfast." Is this an exaggeration? Maybe a little of one. Avi's thumb riffles across the tatty edges of the cards, his head dropping heavily sideways against the cushion. "We had a couple, I think? I didn't take 'em. Feel like they wouldn't have taught much about jail economy. When to stash your favors, when to spend, how much's interest. What favours would you angle for?" Roscoe nods seriously. "I never got why my mom was so annoyed my sisters didn't learn in school how to balance a checkbook," he says, "until I was in here having to know down to like, pennies, how much I still have. Once I get out I'm prob'ly gonna be one of those freaks who saves receipts." He plucks some lint off the hem off his grey scrubs and flicks it onto the floor, tilting his head. "I'm almost out of toothpaste," he says. "Socks. Snacks. I'd take ramen, if you're offering it." Toothpaste. Socks. Snacks. Avi is mouthing these things to himself with little bobbing nods of his head. "I used to keep myself a budget. All my tutoring money, babysitting money, every dog walked every table bussed but," he admits with a self-deprecating smile, "computer did all that shit for me it does not translate in here at all. Thank God I'm not handling the actual books, though, just negotiations, I would probly run us down all our money in a day. Promise everybody the moon, dry up all the funds by breakfast." Does this make it encouraging when his next statement is: "We can probably find you some toothpaste."? The amusement in his expression suggests he is at least aware of the contradiction here. He's shifting back up -- not quite to the back of the couch, just sitting on its arm, now, eyes flicking towards the T.V. "-- I sweartogod, you could be in a cave at the bottom of the ocean or out on the Space Station and if they only get One Channel, that channel gonna be playing Law & Order. You know this is punishment though cuz it ain't even SVU." "I have to keep actual handwritten notes like it's the 1950s or something," says Roscoe; despite the complaint in his tone he's grinning as he eases his legs down into criss-cross applesauce. "It's like math homework. I have x amount of time until my parents put x amount of money in my account again. I'm using my toothpaste at a rate of two pea-sized squeezes per day. Like a word problem, remember those? Wait, I guess you've only been here a minute, huh?" Roscoe's hands wring each other in his lap for a moment. He looks at the T.V. too, face twisting almost habitually back into mild yuck. "They don't even let us watch R-rated movies," he says. "A bunch of us tried to get them to show 'Die Hard' for Christmas and they were like, hm, or how about Elf?" "Aw hell naw," even more emphatic than before, from Avi's end of the couch. "Guess if we saw any R movies in here someone might get bad ideas. Do a crime or something. Though I feel like sitting through Elf on a holiday might inspire some fresh new crimes in some people." He swings one leg down over the side of the couch, the heel of his slip-on shoe sliding off as he scuffs his toe against the ground. "Just been here a minute, but there's things feel the same. People change up every five seconds. Rec room's boring as hell. Find the best people, make friends with 'em quick. Stay out of the way of the hardasses in charge. Cycle through, like, a dozen military bases, you stay ready for --" His smile dims -- just for a second, nose twitching to the side as he looks down at his cards. Looks back up, with a small huff of a laugh. "Aight maybe not this but only cuz nobody could be ready for the whuppin I'm gonna catch when I see my mom again. Are your folks..." His brow creases. "How bad did they freak out about all this?" "Inspired new crimes in me," says Roscoe, though he's too young to look grizzled or threatening when he says this, and he doesn't bother to elaborate on what new crimes it supposedly inspired. After a moment his affected scowl smooths out again. "Huh," he says. He grins along with Avi's little laugh, manages his own short laugh -- "Shoot." He rolls the hem of his shirt between three fingers. "When I got arrested? I mean, obviously they flipped their shit about that, but we didn't know back then what Prometheus was. Some white lady shows up to a meeting talking about an alternate option for mutants who are struggling, I think my parents thought they were putting me in mutie rehab or something. They were all like, this will be good for you." After a moment he goes back to chewing at his thumbnail, his eyes tracking to the T.V. again. "What's really gonna freak them out is when I get out of here and they realize I just missed like two whole years of school." "Shit, I thought there was laws 'bout that. They don't have to give you any school in here?" Avi's brows raise as he gives this some contemplation. "Guess I thought there was laws 'bout a lot of things that --" He rubs at the back of his neck, tongue clicking against his teeth. He hops down off the sofa arm at the shrill sound of a whistle, glancing toward the door as he stretches one arm back. "Damn. That's some mountain of suck, man, get straight from one prison to another. Guess I'll keep my fingers crossed your next place has less economics and better TV." "There's a whole other set of laws if you're a mutant." Roscoe looks over the back of the sofa at the sound of the whistle; he clambers to his feet in a sudden flurry of unfolding his limbs and fixing his scrubs. "Yeah," he says, already backing toward the door; he shoots Avi one last grin over his shoulder when he turns to go. "You too, brother, you too." | |
