Logs:Reverse Fashion Heist Mutual Aid

Reverse Fashion Heist Mutual Aid
Dramatis Personae Jax, Marinov
In Absentia	2021-02-04 "What kinda crimes would fashion art crimes be?"
Location <NYC> Chimaera Arts - Dumbo
This is just one of the many abandoned warehouses in DUMBO, and like many of them it has recently changed hands. Unlike most of those, however, it does not have some corporate developer's sign out front promising a transformation into luxury condominiums or a boutique shopping center or the latest concept restaurant. Instead it's marked by a piece of weathered but wildly colorful plywood propped up on a stack of broken pallets, which reads "Chimaera Art Space!" above "chimaera.org" in smaller letters. The warehouse is moderately large and decorated with graffiti art in various styles--some of it recognizable as the work of renowned local street artists. A pair of monstrous scrap metal sculptures, perhaps still works in progress, flank the entrance. The building itself has undergone significant renovation recently, complete with wiring, plumbing, and a modular partitioning system. The grounds, too, have been cleaned up, ramshackle fences torn down and rusting detritus removed in favor of reclaimed (and brilliantly repainted) outdoor furniture ringing an impressively engineered firepit. "... I'm just saying, eating other living breathing creatures is wrong. And it supports the torture of-" A tall, thin white man, wearing an oversized colourful hemp jacket and sporting blonde dreadlocks is giving an impassioned lecture to a felinoid mutant who is leaning up against the wall, picking at what looks like bits of baked chicken breast packed in a plastic container. "Yeah, I know, Ross," says Marinov tersely. With their free hand, they brush idly at the soft texture of their peacoat. "Meat industry's bullshit. And yet..." They snap one of the strips of chicken in their jaw. "Gotta eat." Ross's jaw tenses a little, his annoyance plain on his face. "I know you need protein or whatev, you could eat tofu or maybe avocado, it's got lots of--" A soft growl and an annoyed, twitching tail interrupt his argument, and his eyes widen before he rolls them. "Fine, we'll chat later." There is a bit of a extra hustle as he turns to walk away. Marinov tail twitches a couple of more times before settling into a slower sway, they sigh after a few seconds and quietly says, "Ugh. Fuuuuuck..." Jax has just been emerging from upstairs, still mostly dressed warmly from the outdoors in heavy lined cargo pants, boots, a purple and green jacket unzipped over a New York City Action Medical sweatshirt, his medic pack strapped around his waist and scarf balled into the knit cap he holds in one hand. He pauses halfway across the warehouse when Ross intercepts him, evidently in some state of continued agitation judging by the exaggerated hand motions back in Marinov's direction. Jax's expression shifts from polite to puzzled to a wide-eyed intrigue and back to polite again. Whatever he replies quells the gesticulating; when Ross continues out of the building it's in kind of a sulking trudge. Jax squeezes at his hat, heading over toward Marinov with a small grimace. "Sorry about the food police over there. I'm pretty sure Shane woulda actually bit him before but --" His mouth compresses small and uncertain, brightly coloured shaggy hair briefly shifting to ratty blonde matted locks before reverting. "Seems risky." Marinov raises a hand in greeting when Jax approaches, and they glance off towards where Ross left to, a sharp laugh at the shift in Jax's appearance. "Yeah, I think... seems a bit thick with wax. I'm a little finickier than that about what I put in my mouth." They take another bite of the chicken and chew contemplatively, "I used to be vegan, actually. Well, almost. Or... do you count bees? I put honey in my tea back then, but now I can't remember what sweet even tastes like." They shrug, "Felt guilty about needing to make dietary changes for a long while." They push off the wall and their ears flick a couple of time. "It's alright, though. Probably, uh, the universe serving retribution for shit I said when I was younger!" "Bees is animals," Jax muses, teeth wiggling at one lip slowly as the hat in his hand dissolves into a swarm of bees buzzing off towards the ceiling before re-coalescing, "but I think I'm way less invested in the purity of veganism than when I was like. In high school." His cheeks color pink as he drops down to sit on an arm of a nearby busted old couch. "Sucks people making you feel guilty about, like, needing to live though. Can't say I rightly understand those sets of priorities. Like d'you care about all animals except people?" His shrug is small. "I don't got many stones to throw, though, I was a pretty obnoxious baby vegan, too. Maybe not white boy with dreads level but nearly there." Marinov's eyes follow the illusory swarm with their eyes with rapt attention until it returns to being a hat again. They lean their head forward a moment and then blink slowly. "Well. Guess I was an almost vegan. Vegan cousin. And... probably also had my own baby phase of that." They find a seat on the couch as well and cross one leg over the other. "But... yeah, like, I dunno. I might get annoyed at people a lot, but I still want them to be alive. Wouldn't want them to starve, especially. Some guys," they gesture off to where Ross disappeared, "probably don't realize shit that comes easy to them doesn't come easy to everyone. I don't really feel so guilty anymore. My fur wouldn't have the shine it does if I didn't pay attention to my nutrition, and that'd be a real crime." Jax unclips his medic pack, setting it on the floor. "What!" He's looking over at Marinov with some disbelief, now. "I could not see you with dull fur like what's next on your crime spree a dull outfit? Anything would be possible after that I come back here next month an' you'll be teachin' a whole class on art crime -- wait." His nose crinkles a little sheepishly, fingers raking through his hair. "That actually sounds way in character 'round here if you did one it'd be fabulous I bet." Jax's assessment can't help but to draw a giggle from Marinov. "The most traumatic about that otherworldly jaunt was definitely being separated from a decent wardrobe!" They splay their hands and continue, "I do want to make sure that any art crimes that I do leans towards the fabulous, though I don't think I am ready to be doing a teaching job! I've still got plenty to learn, so..." Their ears perk and swivel a little towards Jax, "If you know anyone who could help me live a life of beautiful lawlessness, let me know!" "I am real glad you returned to us an' your wardrobe safely." A concerned crease furrows Jax's brow, though it passes soon. His hand drops to his knee, other arm propping back against the back of the couch. "Oh gosh. I used to teach an' art crimes class out here. Who knows, if the sun ever returns to the earth I might start up doing some art crime again. Lotta uncolourful walls in the city in need of a brightening." He picks idly at a stray thread of his pants. "What kinda crimes would fashion art crimes be? I'd hope for like a thrilling heist." "I look forward to seeing more sun time art crime around, city should be covered with art instead of like... sterile looking rich people bullshit," says Marinov, bobbing their head a couple of times. "I know some people do fashion crimes, but in like, the opposite direction of how I'd imagine it." Their eyes go wide and they gesticulate and tucking their head down a bit in a mime of a thief sneaking. "I bet you could do a thrilling heist, like, get into a place using stealth and trickery, replace their drab-ass shit with something fabulous, then boom, get outta there without getting caught! Something's gonna go wrong, but you all pull it together, despite your whole team being fucking disasters of people. Hell yeah!" Jax bounces a little bit where he sits, his eyes lighting as his eyepatch stretches, skews itself wider to become a cartoony robber mask wrapping over both his eyes. "Woah. Now I'm just picturing a bunch of reverse-heists putting a crew together to sneak glamorous diverse-fit clothing into all the swank Fifth Avenue stores." He sinks back against the back of the couch again with a small stifled yawn as his mask vanishes. "I'm definitely qualified on the disaster front even if that's all the help I'd be just right this minute. That's clearly what we need though. Crime-crossover. Crime mutual aid." "Reverse fashion heist mutual aid sounds like the fucking raddest shit I ever heard of." Marinov puts their fingers in a glasses shape to mimic Jax's robber mask. "Carrying in big bags of clothes instead of carrying out big bags of money. First things first, we're not gonna be wearing shirts with horizontal stripes, and our masks are gonna be real nice." They laugh softly, but catch the yawn contagion despite it being stifled, their feline face making the yawn much harder to hide behind their hand. They shake their head quickly to shake it off. "Well... even if that's all you're able to contribute. It's nice to have the help of a disaster." Jax's eye turns upward to the ceiling, his teeth catching at one of his lip rings and wiggling at it. "Okay but like with the right team I think we could really pull somethin' neat off for real though. Take over a place for a night, have an entire -- hmm. Maybe like a free market to outfit folks who got trouble finding clothes in stores usually?" The hitch of his shoulder is small. "Sun's a ways off there's time to plan some colorful crimes."