Logs:Mere Anarchy

Mere Anarchy
Dramatis Personae Fred, Polaris
In Absentia	2021-01-31 "I'm sort of a.. free-lance problem solver."
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. Evening is starting to come on, but it looks much darker outside owing to the heavy low clouds dumping snow over the city. Though the few inches that have accumulated so far does not likely pose much challenge to the average New Yorker, the promise of more to come as night falls and the frigid temperature to boot perhaps discourages too many people from being out who do not need to be. Evolve is relatively quiet, with a few regulars catching an early supper and some unhoused neighbors who've been lingering all day to stay out of the cold. Polaris had originally come in for a late lunch but stayed on long after bidding those she dined with adieu, socializing with co-workers and patrons alike while occasionally volunteering her restless energy for clearing the sidewalk. She's just come in from such a stint and stripped out of a hooded black coat liberally dusted with snow from just a few minutes of toil outside. Beneath it she's dressed in an emerald green chenille sweater that matches her hair, a black suede yoked skirt, and knee-high black boots. Making a beeline for the counter, she gratefully receives the hot cocoa one of the baristas had ready for her. "Thanks, you're an angel," she tells her co-worker, who admittedly looks more like a satyr, as she leans against the counter, hands wrapped around the mug for warmth. There had been a long day of work for the massive man known as Fred Dukes. One of the local crime bosses had asked for him to have some rather aggressive words with a rival family member who apparently didn't know his place. Easy money, but the trick was the jackass didn't arrive to the spot he was meant to for hours. Fred hated being bored. But, with an influx of cash, Fred moved on to his second favorite passtime. Food. This was a place he could come and not have to deal with assholes muttering under their breaths. Whispering and staring. He already had a warrant or two. He didn't need any more heat. So the best way to avoid that was to frequent places where people either knew him, feared him, or both. He ducked low, easing his way into the main area, and pushed towards the counter. "-evenin'," he grunted "-gimme twenty five buffalo chicken wraps. Twenty tuna wraps. Five large coffees, double double, and ten bags of salt and vinegar chips," he said, before tapping his finger to his chin "-oh, and a baker's dozen of them cinnamon rolls," he grinned putting the money on the counter and slipping two twenties into the tip jar. He wasn't an easy customer to prep food for, and he wanted to keep the people who made his favorites in good standing. He then lumbered towards a corner booth, moved the table from it accordingly, and eased himself down with a grunt of effort, before his eyes fell on the green haired women. He blinked a few times "-eh... ain't we met? Y'look.. familiar? Or maybe I jus' heard of ya," The barista behind the counter dutifully enters in Fred's order, her eyes going only gradually and ever so slightly bigger as he continues to list items, though she does look very pleased with the tip. "Thank you! We'll get these to you as quickly as well can, Sir," she assures him gamely after processing his payment, and hops to it. Polaris has straightened up from where she was slumped and, craning her neck to glance at the Point Of Sales screen, looks about to say something when Fred addresses her. She turns to look at him, hazel eyes wide and intense, though perhaps not significantly wider or more intense than they had been before. "Oh! I doubt I have enough of a rep around here that you'd have heard of me yet unless you run with a lot of anarchists, but I do work here and I've seen you around." Her smile comes easily, bright and confident. "I'm Polaris, and...I'm afraid I never got your name, big guy." "Right! It's th'hair honestly," he gave a little laugh "-met a lot of people wit' dyed hair. But yer shade is a bit unique," he shifted a bit in his seat and nodded "-Freddie. Fred Dukes. Just moved here a few months back. If you work here then it's definitely why I recognize ya," he said with a little nod. The words 'big guy' did irk him a tiny bit. But he pushed it aside. The food was too good to let his temper get the better of him "-this must be a good place t'work if you're hangin' out here by choice off hours." he observed as he glanced around lazily. "Well, nice to officially meet you, Freddie." Polaris's smile grows even brighter at his comment about her hair. "I was born with my hair like this, though I've heard it's not easy to get it this bright with dye." She drifts over to the side of the counter closest to Fred's booth, still nursing her cocoa. "Oh yeah, this is literally the best job I've ever had. Great boss, great co-workers, get to see folks from the community every day." Here she lapses into a grin. "Amazing food certainly doesn't hurt. It's also one of the supply drops for this mutual aid group I volunteer with, so I end up here a lot. Today I'm just--dunno, restless, I guess?" She shrugs, eyes darting to the snow falling fast and faster outside without any sign of evident concern. "You live around here? Transportation might start getting dicey soon. This neighborhood's not high on the City's snow removal priority list." "Pleasure's all mine, Polaris," he said with another nod "-really? Ya don't say. That's some interesting genes y'working with." he listened as the first of his food started to arriving. Nodding here and there. She was enthusiastic. It was nice. He wasn't much of a talker so he liked letting someone else talk away while he ate, or just listened. When she glanced outside, he chuckled deep little laugh "-oh I ain't worried about that," he jabbed his thumb to the front window "-see that massive SUV out there? Six-wheels? Mine. Specially put together. It'll take a lot more than some snow to give Big Bessie trouble. Speakin' of, if you need a ride lemme know." "My mom used to make me dye it black," Polaris adds gleefully, "but I guess she didn't think there was much point after I started doing this, too." At the word "this" the unused spoon from the saucer of her cocoa floats up into the air and bends itself over double before straightening back out and returning to its place. She looks at the vehicle Fred indicates, dark green eyebrows lifting high. "Damn! Mad props for managing to drive that in Manhattan! Parking must cost you an--a lot." Her smile returns. "Oh, thanks! I'm probably going to stick around and help them close up, but I live right down the block anyway. Another reason I hang around here so much." "Eh I usually just park it where I please. Tickets are bull," he explained as he started to eat a bit, taking a gulp of coffee "-hey, pull up a chair," he gestured "-y'welcome to join me. Not often I get a chance to chat with-" he paused and glanced at the floating spoon. Psychics. Fucking psychics. Easy Freddie.. easy. They arn't all like that bald asshole. He shoved a few chips in his mouth and shook his head again. "-sorry 'hem. Yeah have a seat if ya want," Polaris blinks, startled. "Well, tickets are bull, but they can be pretty expensive bull." The quick flick of her eyes suggests she noticed Fred's discomfort with her little parlor trick, but she does not look in the least sheepish about it. "It comes in handy," is all she says about it as she makes it the rest of the way to his table, dragging over an unused chair and settling into it with one leg crossed under herself, mug still cupped between pale hands. "So, what do you do? Business or leisure or whatever." "Eh, trick is, y'just don't pay em!" he grinned even wider as he finished his first round of food, wiping his mouth away gently "-I can imagine it does," he added though not really having any desire to discuss psychic powers any further. When she sat, he considered the question she was asking him "-uhh... I'm sort of a.. free-lance problem solver. Ya know.. odd jobs here there and everywhere," it was really the easiest way to explain without outright shouting 'HEY I'M A CRIMINAL'. Polaris laughs. "Well, that's one way of going about it! Fair warning, they'll tow you eventually if you rack up enough of a bill, though..." She peers out the window into the blizzard. "Not sure their tow trucks are up to that challenge." Her wide, earnest eyes study him for a moment. "Sounds like an interesting line of work," she concludes at last, evidently unfazed by his vagueness. "Guess I've been in that field, though to be honest it was mostly my bestie who did the problem-solving." Her smile skews a little fey. "I was just the muscle. Anyway, the bulletin board over there always has a lot of wanted ads and all, if you're interested doing work within the community." She sips at her cocoa, mouth twisting to one side. "We've always got more than our fair share of problems, anyway." "Eh.. I'm gonna be honest. My services.. cost a lot," he chuckled "-a lot a lot. I'm a very specific kind o'problem solver. I don't think anyone advertisin' at a coffee shop can afford it," when she mentioned being the muscle, he tilted an eyebrow "-really? No offense but y'don't look like any muscle I've ever seen." he held up a hand "-not doubtin' you. Just most of the thugs I know are missing teeth and brain cells.." Polaris's smile skews a little fey. "You might be surprised! It's a bigass city and there aren't a lot of community spots like this, so we get all types." She doesn't seem particularly invested in convincing him of that, though, or of her work history. "Yeah, I can fuck shit up." This is casual, matter-of-fact; it does not sound like bragging. "There's more than one way to do that. But these days I'm happy to sling coffee for my living. The fucking-shit-up I reserve for the revolution." "Revolution?" he asked curiously, tilting his head to one side. He had finally finished all of his food, and was stacking and organizing plates and trash to make it easier on whomever had to clean it all up. "-what sort of revolution?" he'd heard whispers of course. Mutants would no longer live in hiding. They'd refuse. Rise up. But he just assumed that was big talk. That nothing would really ever come of it. Polaris perks up at Fred's inquiry. "Oh, the one where we overthrow the colonial, capitalist, oligarchy through mutual aid, direct action, and solidarity between oppressed communities." She turns her mug between her hands. "I mean, there's obviously lots of work to do on all--all those fronts! Like, no community can agree on everything, and mutants aren't any exception." A shadow passes over her hopeful expression. "But we've been making progress, you know?" "Holy shit. You're a full fucking anarchist. Did I just step into.. what the fuck was that play called... Less Miserable? Lee Masarabble?" he scratched his chin in thought "-are you like.. part of a group or are these all just personal goals you got?" Fred was NOT politically minded. But.. he liked chaos. He liked violence. And he hated rich people. So I mean all of that sounded like a win win for him. "Guilty as charged!" Polaris's grin has taken on a certain manic edge. "But I sure as fu--frak hope this isn't too much like Les Miserables, since they all died horribly and anyway their approach was kinda lopsided." She shrugs one shoulder helplessly. "They're personal goals and group goals, though really most of what we do is community care." The flicker of a smile returns. "If you're interested in getting into that kind of thing--and maybe eventually other kinds of things--showing up at a work party is a good way to start. Those go on the bulletin board, too, in case you don't do social media." "Social media.. yeah no I don't touch that shit with a ten foot pole." Fred knew most normal people would see the impish eyes. Manic smiles and be unnerved. Not him. He liked it. It was passion. It was energy. Fuck.. it was fun. He shifted a bit in his seat and leaned on one elbow towards her "-I could go for a work party. Until then though.. how'd you feel about grabbing a drink somewhere. You could.. fill me in on yer philosophies?" "That's a good choice," Polaris concedes, laughing. "I mostly only use Twitter, these days." Her expression flicks rapidly through several iterations at Fred's invitation, none of them easy to read. As pale as her skin is already, the blanching of her face is perhaps not obvious. Her voice when she answers is uncertain, strained. "I--I don't drink. Anymore. Or uh--" She shakes her head rapidly as if to clear it, the thumb of one hand rubbing a silver ring bearing the shape of a shield enclosing the letters "CTR" on the other. Then she abruptly knocks back the rest of her cocoa. "Actually, I should go help Haley with these." She indicates the neatly stacked plates, sounding so suddenly and incongruously chipper again that it might strike some as disturbing. Likewise the jerky enthusiasm with which she takes up the stack, rising, her own mug at the top. "They might want to close up and go home early." There's a fierceness in the smile she flashes back at him. "I'll see you around though, Freddie!"