Logs:Not An Expert

Not An Expert
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Steve	2020-11-10 "There isn't exactly a deaf -- country."
Location <NYC> Lower East Side - Lower East Side
Historically characterized by crime and immigrant families crammed into cramped tenement buildings, the Lower East Side is often identified with its working-class roots. Today, it plays host to many of New York's mutant poor, although even here they are still often forced into hiding. The March for Police Accountability this afternoon was a resounding success. It was tightly organized and executed despite involving several disparate organizations, and even with an ironically heavy police presence there was no violence today, at least. The end-point rally is dispersing now in Roosevelt Park, just above Grand Street, with the Hua Mei Bird Garden as backdrop. Plenty of participants and volunteers alike are still milling about, especially near the table set up by Food Not Bombs to distribute fragrant vegetable stirfry and corn chowder. Steve had been with the Care Bears for the march, but has bade farewell to his teammates and is currently polishing off his third helping of stir-fry in between exchanging friendly greetings with passers-by. He's wearing a black t-shirt that reads 'None of us are free until all of us are free', blue jeans, and black combat boots. He's taken off his pink armband, but the great round shield slung across his back is still painted up with Friend Bear's belly badge: white, with two cheerful yellow sunflowers crossed, each beaming a cartoonish smile. Dusk had been by the speakers, dressed blandly as he often is while interpreting in light tan corduroys and a short-sleeved dark grey wrap shirt, both sitting noticeably too loose on him, belt tightened to a jagged new hole punched in the leather. Even with the crowd dispersing now, though, he's slow to leave himself, perched on the back of a bench with feet planted on its seat and his large black and crimson wings draped behind him. He's been looking down at his phone but glances up as Steve draws nearer, a small quirk of smile on his lips. "Tell me you're keeping the shield like that tomorrow." Steve looks up at Dusk's voice, his smile thin but warm. "Hey, there." He cleans off the paper bowl and tosses it into the trash can beside the bench. Leans in to embrace the smaller man. "I will, actually -- but I'm not sure it counts now that I have two of them." Shakes his head. "Long story. I ah...keep meaning to catch you after one of these actions, but --" He breaks off. Looks back up, past Dusk at the colorful leafy canopy. Blinks his eyes clear. "Sorry. God, it's just been -- a lot. How have you been keeping?" Dusk's tongue clicks against his teeth, disappointed. "Yeah really only get the full effect if you're carrying that with the whole-ass uniform." He squints upward too, and then back at Steve. "Well. Considering half my household's been murdered by cops now --" One wing hitches in a shrug. "Starting to take it personal." He lowers his phone, looking out over the waning crowd. "Busy. Think busy's good. You?" Steve bows his head. "Think you're well within your rights, there," he says softly. "I'm -- I'm keeping busy, too. Trying, anyway, and...yeah. Busy's good." He frowns deeply. "This...wasn't what I'd meant to ask you, but you look..." A blush rises to his cheeks. "I know it's a sore subject, but I'd been -- donating to you, before. Before Dawson died." He meets Dusk's eyes again, with an effort. "Not my place to assume, but if that'd still be helpful to you? I'm game to do it again." Dusk's breathing quickens, slightly, pupils dilating in the moment before he drops his eyes to fix steadily on his hands. "You're right." A flush rises, very stark in his far too pallid cheeks. "It's not your place." He turns his phone over in his hands, flipping it restlessly from one side to the other. "What did you want to ask?" Steve's jaw sets. "Wasn't assuming -- just offering." Looks down and away again. The tension eases as quickly as it came. "Sorry if I overstepped, all the same." He pauses a beat, his eyes flicking over to Dusk's hands. "I ah...I've been looking for resources on learning sign language. Done some googling, watched some videos, but I thought it's probably better to -- ask an expert?" Dusk's hands wring around the phone. He starts flipping it the other direction, eyes still downcast. They shoot back up, brows hiking at Steve's question. "Wait, you what? Why?" His hands squeeze harder together. "I'm not an expert." Steve looks just as startled as Dusk, for a moment. "I -- want to learn ASL. Met a deaf fella, seems like the decent thing to do, since lipreading is tough." He frowns. "Guess I did end up assuming, after all. But -- you're an interpreter, right? Just figured you got to know the language pretty well to do that." "Uh -- huh." Dusk's expression levels out into something flatter. He studies Steve's face a moment, then looks back to his phone. His fidgeting stops; he switches its screen back on, tapping at the screen. "I mean sure, yeah. Hey, where's a good place to learn English, you think?" Steve blinks. "America, I guess? I learned French pretty well in France -- not well enough to translate. But there isn't exactly a deaf -- country." He blushes again. "Just thought maybe you could point me in the right direction, is all. If it's a foolish question..." His lips press thin. "Wouldn't be the first time I'd asked one and it surely won't be the last." "I just mean -- my whole family's deaf. I sign because I grew up signing. Didn't give it a lot of thought. If you're actually interested in learning how to sign," it must be admitted, the skepticism in Dusk's voice here is heavy, "I'm sure there's classes and shit but I can't tell you how good they are. Can send you some links. Mostly you just gotta -- talk to people." Steve nods slowly. "Can't say I'm sure I'll succeed, but I don't know why you think I'd ask if I wasn't interested." One eyebrow ticks up slightly here. "Just...things are awkward with this guy. Dawson introduced us, and --" He looks down. "-- was easier to ask someone I knew better. I'd appreciate any links you can send me, and certainly I'm not averse to talking to folks. Just doesn't seem polite trying to do that knowing only five words..." His brows wrinkle deeply. "...signs?" "Hearing people always ask. And are pretty much never interested in follow through." This sounds more like a statement of fact than a criticism. "My entire life long people told my parents, my siblings, my friends, that of course they were going to learn sign language. Just about zero people ever did so --" Dusk's smile is quick and sharp. He shuts his phone screen back off at just about the same moment an email comes through to Steve -- a list of ASL resources, some online, some local classes, some local meetups. "I got really good at interpreting." "Oh." Steve's frown looks more thoughtful now than troubled. "I didn't realize it was...well, I suppose I might have guessed." His smile is a quick, rueful twitch, his hand reaching automatically for the phone in his pocket and then stopping, perhaps when he realizes the source of the notification he just received. "Well, saying I actually do mean to learn now just smacks of protesting too much, so I won't. I appreciate the information, though." His gaze drops again. "Look, I know I keep putting my whole foot in my mouth but --" He bites his lower lip. "-- I'd love to grab a coffee with you, sometime. For real. See each other more than just coming and going at these things?" Dusk laughs, soft and warm, hair flopping down across his eyes as his head shakes. He gets up -- a little slow, a little careful -- from his perch. Braces one wing against the bench to steady himself as he climbs down off it, stretching out the other to brush light against Steve's arm. "I feel like coffee didn't really work out so well for us before, huh?" There's a bright amusement in his voice. He tucks his phone back into his pocket, wings stretching a little wider. "Stay safe out here, aiite?" Steve doesn't laugh, but his smile looks genuine enough, his lean back into the touch grateful. "We never made it to coffee, but..." His shrug is light, barely perceptible. "A certain fella's taught me a thing or two about communicating clearly, since then. I learn best by doing, and I've learned to brew a pretty mean cup, too." He claps a hand to Dusk's shoulder as he turns to go. "I'll do my best, but -- you too."