Logs:New Around Here

New Around Here
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Fiona, Steve
In Absentia	2019-04-25 "I'm just like a barista."
Location NYC - SoHo, NYC - Montagues
The first of the many camelcased neighborhoods, SoHo - South of Houston Street - is a neighborhood of exposed cast-iron buildings and sett-paved streets home to many artists' lofts and art galleries. Trendy is the watch-word of the neighborhood, and even as gentrification has begun pushing out some of the very people who make it so, many starving artists still hold onto the valuable real estate for its hip reputation, beautiful architecture, and many, many stores. It's not the most pleasant of evening, chilly and grey and just starting to rain. Though earlier in the afternoon the streets were busier, now people are starting to hustle from place to place -- there's only a very light drizzle coming down as yet but not many people seem to want to wait around for it to get /harder/. Dusk is unhurried, though, as he makes his way down the increasingly damp street toward Montagues coffeeshop. His huge dark wings are starting to collect a fine silvery misting of water beaded up over their surface; he keeps them wrapped capelike around himself, providing a convenient raincloak for his t-shirt and corduroys underneath. Half his attention is on his phone, which is perhaps the reason he's entirely forgotten to light the cigarette tucked into his mouth. As the throngs of people inherent to being in Manhattan pass by, there's kind of... well, an empty spot, as if the people were water and there was an obstruction. There sits a rather tattered looking backpack, the kind a hiker would use. Next to it sits a girl, knees bent up to her chest with a sign, 'Starving - cash would be great!' along with a large metal coffee can. People seem to be giving her a wide birth as well, even with the long coat, it's pretty obvious she's a mutant. There is a LITTLE bit of money in the coffee can by her feet, however, but 'business' overall seems slow. Someone does seem to have given her a nice golf umbrella to prop herself up under though, so at least there's that. You can tell it's not hers because it's not torn and worn like everything else she owns. Dressed in unobtrusive black from head to toe -- button-down shirt, trousers, and half apron -- Steve has just stepped outside of Montagues, carrying a thermos and half of a sandwich. The latter disappears into his mouth in two bites before he's even come to a stop at the very edge of the cafe's awning, out of the way of prospective customer but still sheltered from the rain. As he sips from the thermos his eyes scan the street ceaselessly, lighting on the huddled figure under the umbrella. His brows crease ever so slightly as he watches passers-by skirting wide around the panhandler. After another sip he caps the thermos, slips it into one of the large pockets of his apron, and steps out into the rain. He produces a wallet as he approaches Fiona and is in the process of unfolding it when he spots Dusk. And completely loses track of what he's doing for a moment, staring. The faint flush of his cheeks is perhaps not easy to notice in the failing light, and he quickly recovers, lifting one hand for an awkward wave before pulling out a five dollar bill and depositing it in Fiona's coffee can. "Hey, are you al --" And now he's staring at /her/, perhaps not having noticed before (was it the angle of her umbrella or his extreme, if momentary, distraction?) that she's bright red and horned. Dusk trudges to a stop, shoving his phone back into his pocket and picking out a slim wallet instead. Frowning at it, retrieving the last two bills from inside (sadly, both $1) to drop into Fiona's can. "You need food or something, friend?" He plucks the cigarette from his lips, rocking back a step and lifting his brows at Steve. He returns the staring with a quick lopsided smile -- his wings pulling juuust a little tighter in against his shoulders before he consciously relaxes them. "Hey, thanks!" Fiona brightens up a little, waking up from her daydream as she notices someone throwing some money her way. Then she notices who it is, and stammers, "I, um, ah, aren't you...?" she trails off. It's pretty hard to be in Manhattan and not constantly be bombarded by media and news. "F-food would be nice," she blinks back and forth between Dusk and Steve slowly, before taking her glasses off, cleaning them with her shirt tail, and repeating the process. It's rather a lot to take in - New York in general is a bit of a culture shock for new arrivals and well, despite how she may LOOK, she isn't really used to seeing others like herself. At least, visible mutants, anyway... "I'm Steve," says Steve, blushing /visibly/ now. "Rogers. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss..." His pale blue eyes flick rapidly between Dusk and Fiona. "Um. So...I work -- " He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, in the general direction of Montagues. "-- over there. We have coffee...and food?" He probably didn't /intend/ it as a question, the slight lift of his intonation more uncertain than anything else. Dusk takes another step back from the others -- though this time just out of politeness as he stretches his wings a little further, gives them a small and careful shake to rid them of excess water /without/ splashing the pair nearby. "Don't mind him," he says with a casual flick of one long thumbclaw toward Steve, "he's just /really/ --" A small hesitation. "New here. Your kitchen still open?" This he /does/ direct to Steve, brows lifting. "Fiona," the girl answers Steve's question, standing up and gathering herself up to her full impressive five feet two inches. Since it seems like there's food, she's quite obviously ready to go eat. If they hadn't yet, they'd probably notice her tail coiling about she stands up, and the tip of it poking below the trench coat. "Food is good! I, uh, definitely like food, and all." Her tail swishes excitedly at the prospect, even. Swish. She peers over at the store. "That place... looks expensive, though. I mean, everything here is expensive. And all." Steve quirks one eyebrow slightly at Dusk's choice of the word 'new', but he makes no comment on it. "Yeah, the kitchen's open. I just said it that way because --" It's unclear why he cuts off right there, but a split second later he has noticed the tail and promptly looks back up at her face, perhaps to forestall yet more staring. He shakes his head once, sharply. "Never mind. It's good food, and it /is/ expensive -- like everything around here." The smile he flashes Fiona is a touch rueful. "But I /do/ have an employee's discount." "S'cool I can definitely swing a sandwich and a drink or something. I was heading that way anyway." Dusk's wings shake briefly again before he heads toward Montagues' door, holding it for the others. "You're not wrong, though. Manhattan's nonsense. You not been here long, then?" "No, not real long..." Fiona trails off, pondering and ticking some days off on her fingers. "A week? I ran out of money pretty much as soon as I got here..." she rubs the back of her neck, "Not that there was all that much money to begin with..." she wanders towards the store, drawing in a noisy sniff at all the scents. "Thank you." Steve nods at Dusk, leading the others into the shop. "I'm on break for a little while longer. The um, avocado toast is delicious. Goes well with soup on a night like this -- /and/ I know how to make it. Just about anything Despite the rumors," he adds confidentially, "I'm not actually a barista." NYC - Montagues - SoHo Montagues harkens back to the day when SoHo was filled to the brim with artists, with its mismatched furniture, all plush and decorated heavily with carved wood, but remains trendy enough to keep its newer patrons by making sure that furniture is clean, in good repair and inviting. The antique tables all have been reinforced to seem less creaky. The real draw of the cafe is the smell: fresh roasted coffee mingles with perfectly steeped teas. Spices from crisp pastries mingle with the tang of clotted cream but don't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. "He's just /like/ a barista. Barista-adjacent. Money's tough." Dusk sounds rather matter-of-fact about this. "There's a coffeeshop in the Lower East Side. Evolve. It's friendly to people like us, /and/ they have free food each day. Kind of a lifesaver for -- well. A lot of people." Once /indoors/ he curls his wings back in close against his back, arms folding across his chest. "Avocado toast? You're really starting to blend in." "Avacado... toast?" Fiona blinks. Those are two words that mean things, but she's only vaguely heard them together before. At least she knows what a barista is, though. More talk of avacado toast. The coffee though, is the overwhelming smell. And it smells DELICIOUS. Then she looks around the rest of the place, "Wow, this place is like, way too cool for me." "I'm just like a barista," Steve agrees, "except for the coffee-making skills. If you want drip, though, I can definitely pour that. Into a cup." He plucks the thermos out of his apron and takes a sip as if by way of demonstration, then slips behind the counter. "It's this delicious Mexican fruit, with a lot of spices. On bread." His face scrunches up a bit. "You...probably knew some part of that. So, /anyway/, what can I get you?" His eyes skip back and forth between the two mutants again. "Both of you." "This place is too cool for most of us." Dusk scuffs his knuckles against a scruffy cheek, a smile half-hidden behind his palm. "Aren't you still on break, man? You should /not/ work on your breaks. Why give your boss free labor?" "Uh, um," Fiona' s stomach audibly rumbles right then. "A sandwich would be nice! And um, I dunno, that coffee smells really good," her eyes dart around the place somewhat nervously. She looks over from Dusk to Steve, tip of her tail twitching pensively. "Are you guys sure this is like... okay? You're not gonna like... get in trouble, 'cause we're here? 'cause I'm here?" Steve chuckles. "Oh, that wasn't my supper break. It was just ten minutes for my...second supper." He twists around and considers the menu. "How about...a BLT? I can probably manage that. Coffee, too." He frowns at Fiona's question. "What do you mean? Why would I get In trouble?" "Because we're freaks," Dusk answers Steve bluntly. "And probably the majority of places in the city wouldn't let us eat." One of his wings hitches up in a shrug, his eyes skimming around the cafe. "This place is usually okay. Kind of depends who's working. Nobody's going to get in /trouble/ because we're here, though." He takes his wallet out of his pocket again, idly tapping it against his opposite palm. "-- All I want is a black coffee." "Oh man, that sounds AWESOME," Fiona nods, clearly excited by the prospect of this sandwich. She will perhaps have to try this 'avacado toast' another day, because BACON. "I mean..." she trails off at Dusk's answer, "I guess I wasn't gonna say it quite THAT way... But, yeah...I mean..." she trails off, clearly struggling to say it in the nicest way possible, "I guess some places just, you know, would rather not... have me around... or... probably not just me." She glances down to the side. Tail droop. Steve's eyes widen at Dusk's explanation, then Fiona's. Then he nods, slowly. "That's...not surprising, and I'm sure it's not just you. But he's right, no one's going to get in trouble for letting you in here." His expression hardens. "And if they did, well, the shift manager would have some trouble with /me./" He stares intently at one of the mounted tablet that serves for a register. Narrows his eyes slightly. Extends one figer to carefully tap the screen. "Alright. One BLT. Two coffees. Your total is...nine ninty-six." It takes him a bit more than average fiddling to get the tablet rotated around for Dusk. "We're open until ten, and I'm not going to be fussy about how many coffees you get." He considers Fiona, eyes straying briefly to her horns before he drags them back to her face. "You got somewhere safe to go for the night?" "Thanks, man." Dusk inserts his card, taps at the screen to add his tip. "Some places are shitty. Lots of places are shitty. It takes some time, but you learn the places that'll be safe -- or safer. There's barely any that are openly /friendly/ to people like us, but you figure out which are -- tolerant." Another small shrug, his own tone rather offhand with all this. His brows draw slightly in, knuckles scuffing at his cheek again with Steve's question. Fiona doesn't really seem to mind Steve looking at her tail or horns - she's not very self conscious about them because, well, she's had them for her entire life. She perks a little at Steve's response. Of course, he's a hero of justice, and everything! He fought Nazis! "I dunno if I'd call it 'safe'..." she trails off. She's been doing a lot of that today. "I usually just kind of sleep wherever." Steve closes out the sale and goes to pours their coffees. His expression doesn't visibly change at the teenager's answer, though his eyes flick to her quickly. "Like he said, I'm pretty new to this time -- this /New York/. But I do know you there's an awful lot you can find out on the Internet. They have that -- here. The...wi-fi." He gestures vaugely at...the ceiling? "I can help you find and pay for a hostel -- /those/ apparently still exist, unlike boarding houses." He brings Dusk and Fiona their coffees. "Oh, but..." He frowns again, more deeply. Deflates a little. "A lot of them are likely to have the same problem? With...how you look?" He flicks a questioning glance to Dusk. "Yes," Dusk answers, simply. "It's honestly hard enough finding places that will take kids who look human. Kids who can't pass --" His wing hitches up again. "There's exactly one shelter in the city I know that takes underage mutants /and/ is reasonably safe, but it always has a waiting list. S'maybe a couple more that'll do it if you don't mind sleeping with a knife under your pillow and an eye open. No hostels will let you share a room or a bathroom, so you gotta have enough money for the couple that will allow it /if/ you pay for a private room. And none of that," he takes his coffee from Steve with a nod of thanks, his voice mild but his wings tight, thumbclaws twitching, "is something you'll find with a quick google search." The press of his lips is thin, tight. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be an asshole or anything, I'm sure your heart is in a good place. There's just -- so much humans don't even start to think about." "It's cool, I don't really mind sleeping outside, anyway. There's plenty of places where people don't go, and ah, well I used to like camping a lot anyway. Really." Fiona kinda shrugs, "I don't want you to pay for a room for me or anything like that. That's too much!" her tail swishes thoughtfully. "Food is the main thing, anyway. My metabolism is kind of a little crazy... sometimes." Steve nods again, still slowly. His face betrays no expression this time. "I shouldn't have presumed when I have no idea the kind of things you have to deal with -- have dealt with -- every day. It's just..." He tilts his head, considering. Several long seconds. "Some folks went pretty far out of their way to see me safe a while ago when I had nowhere to turn, and I'm looking for ways to do likewise. But no matter how bizarre and awful /my/ situation was, I still look...how I look." His gaze goes back to the two mutants, lips tight. "That was no small thing in my time and it's no small thing in yours." To Fiona, inclining his head. "I respect what you're comfortable accepting and what you're not. For what it's worth...I can get you what we don't sell by closing if you want to stay. And your BLT, of course. /Well/ before that." With that he turns to the counter to assemble the sandwich.