Logs:Sweet Nothing

Sweet Nothing
Dramatis Personae Lumin, Marinov
In Absentia	2024-12-31 "I think it's weird, yeah? To be a different thing than you're used to being."
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. It’s much colder than the day before, and the warmth of the cafe is just barely keeping the few windows from fogging up, but the mid-afternoon sun still manages to peek its way through. The tables are filled as they normally are, a small group of friends meeting up one last time before they head back to their respective homes, a student typing away at a computer finishing up an assignment they were unfortunately assigned over the break, one couple looking like they might’ve just woken up. But the latest rush has finished at the very least. Lumin, as the name tag pinned to their shirt says in large swirling neat hand writing, is finishing up their shift. The abundant light within the coffee shop occasionally catches their stained glass at the right angle and sends a scatter of rainbow light across the room. They float an empty glass up and away from the table with the couple, and the two hardly seem to notice in their half awake states. They take care of the glass once it floats into their hand, and finally, begin to take off the apron, the ends of the ties that sit behind their neck held together with magnets, and the one that ties around to their front they undo with careful precision. Under their apron they wear silvery velvety shirt (perhaps, in a way to be festive), and high waisted wide-leg black pants, both miraculously free of any spills or stains despite them just having finished a shift. Arriving at the tail end of the rush, Marinov saunters in, wearing a dark green leather-trimmed canvas trench coat, the collar worn high, lending the silhouette of a scarf without actually wearing one. With some of the lower buttons unbuttoned, their black skirt and thigh length brown boots (customized for their unusual feet structure) are visible as well. They nod once it is their time at the counter and place their order for tea, eyes lingering a moment. Their tone adjusted for small-talk, they remark to Lumin, "Shift's over? We'll miss the colour you bring. You got any plans tonight?" Lumin looks up from where they’d been undoing the last of their apron tie, with some trouble, and while it’s hard to exactly determine an expression across their glass features there is a certain brightness to their smile that is more than the usual polite one they wear. There’s also a definite surprise in the way their eyes widen, if only briefly. “Oh! Why thank you,” They duck their head with the thanks in a sort of curtsy, “You know I always mean to ask you where you get your clothes-” They pull the magnets apart holding up their apron, and distractedly go to ball it up, then unball it and hang it up. “But then the rush rolls in, you know how that can be. They’re wonderful though.” They’re grabbing a mug for Marinov’s tea, glass fingers tinking gently on the ceramic, and passing it to the young man with asymmetric black hair also working behind the counter. “No plans set in stone as of yet, but the day is still young. How about yourself? You always seem dressed for a party and today is no different.” Marinov's ears perk and their tail curls up at this compliment to their outfit, and they say, "Actually, I'm a designer, most of what I wear are pieces that I've put together myself! If I do not believe in myself first and foremost, who will?" After giving thanks to the young man behind the counter, Marinov steps aside but leans over the display of snacks to better engage their conversational partner. "Most days, I am not headed for any sort of party, so you might have misjudged me! Though today, there's an event at Arlo Soho I mean to attend. I've heard that things can get pretty far out there." Lumin’s eyes jump up to their ears, then dart back down to their face, “You’re kidding! This is all you?” They lean against the other side of the counter, fully enraptured, “That’s amazing, truly, where did you learn to do that?” Their tone is genuine, underneath the ringing hollow and metallic quality their voice seems to have. There’s another customer coming up, so while the other man takes the order Lumin reaches behind them to grab the mug of tea, and gracefully sweep around the counter to (carefully) hand it to Marinov, napkin wrapped around it, “Might be a little hot.” They warn, quick, “And Arlo Soho, that’s that hotel right?” Marinov nods confirmation to the last question, and accepts their cup between both of their hands. They lean in a little more, speaking now like revealing a secret. "It's my mutant power, I manifested good taste." They can't stop from laughing musically only moments after saying that. They lean their nose close to the surface of the tea, inhaling and close their eyes a few moments. "Actually, I manifested my interest quite a bit longer before that, even, I liked to make little outfits for dolls and the like. I had the most darling little he-men." Lumin watches their hands, ensuring Marinov firmly has the mug before letting go. Their eyebrows jump up in amusement, “I’m sure they were the most dashing he-men. They were always a little lacking in the clothing department weren’t they?” They glide back just a few steps to grab another napkin, this time for themself to wipe some powdered sugar that had gotten on their arm. “But I suppose if the good taste part manifested later in life, perhaps not too dashing?” "Well, I think they were more smartly dressed than the default. There is no toy that could not be dressed, if you are determined enough. Even a hot wheels should feel beautiful when attending the racer's ball, after all." They take a sip of the tea and then gesture towards a table where they intend to sit, invitation implied, "I guess that probably served me well, since I got used to using pretty varied subjects for my designs! Now, I do a lot of bespoke work." Lumin laughs softly, emphasizing the ring in their voice, and nods in thanks at the invitation then heads over to take a seat at the table. “That sounds so exciting! And I imagine no one knows better than yourself how much we need that sort of thing.” They ease themself into one of the chairs, and it creaks slightly under them, “Do you have a favorite that you’ve worked on?” "I like when I get a chance to make something a bit more... abstract, you know. Like real weird shit!" Marinov laughs softly and places their cup down on the table. They turn and then thread their tail through the back of the chair and then cross one leg over the other. "Though there is something satisfying about-- Well, you know, like you said. I know well what it's like to have conventional things not fit well or right. And sometimes there's people who never had a chance to really wear something that they loved." They tug at the collar of their jacket as if to give an example. "That's what I really like. Helping someone find a look that's theirs." They wave a hand vaguely, "Even I had a phase where I hid inside clothing that make me disappear. I want the things I design to help people feel more like themselves, yeah?" Lumin hums in a sympathic understanding, and nods slow. They bring their hand up so they can rest their chin against the knuckles of the back of their hand, "It really makes such a difference. I had to figure out quite a few things when all this happened," They turn their free hand back and forth, the light refracting through the arm it in a spectral glitter, then let it rest again on the table, "But limited to things that zip or stretch only, no buttons though--made that mistake once." They smile good humored, "I have just a few words for whoever thought those were a good idea." "Ohh, yeah, I bet that required a bit of an adjustment," says Marinov, as their eyes focus on Lumin's hand, slitted eyes dilating and retracting a bit as if trying to figure out how much light they need to adjust for. "Buttons are excellent when you have agile little wiggly fingers," says Marinov, and they wiggle the fingers on their more paw-like hand, stubbier and rounder and clawier. "I adjusted well enough, though. I mean, my fingers still squish at least, it seems like it'd be hard to hook even a zipper with," they lift their chin towards Lumin's hand, "Unsquishy ones." Lumin’s eyes widen, and it takes them a moment to continue, “Ah- yes that took some practice, I will admit.” They lean forward a little more in their seat, scanning Marinov in a new light, “So…you also…” they shake their head, and make the sound of blowing out a breath, “I’d say you’ve adjusted marvelously, given the circumstances. Or at least it certainly appears so.” They say with an impressive sort of gesture towards them. "Hmm? Ah," Marinov looks down at their hands, turning them over appraisingly, "Yeah, I was a late bloomer. Probably for the best, I was my parents' 'miracle baby', and if my mom had kittens instead, there'd bound to be questions about the parentage." They take a sip from their tea and shake their head, "I think I adjusted the best I could. I think it's weird, yeah? To be a different thing than you're used to being. I remember liking sweet things, and then I stopped even being able to imagine what sweet even tastes like." They gaze appraisingly at Lumin. "And you? How did adjusting go?" “Oh it’s absolutely weird.” Lumin agrees readily, a sort of breathless admiration in their voice, despite there being no breath to lose, “Especially your senses changing- I’m still adjusting, I think.” They admit with a sheepish smile, “It’s been a few years, you’d think I’d be getting the hang of it all by now, but sometimes walking past a mirror is still a surprise.” They sigh dramatically, a little wistfully, “Oh sweet things, I fear the day the memory of them fades.” "The memory of sweet faded pretty fast. I don't think my brain thought it was useful information, so it tucked away a whole bunch of cat stuff in that spot instead," says Marinov, shrugging helplessly. They tap their clawtip against the edge of a cup a couple of times thoughtfully, "If your senses changed a lot, I have to imagine there's lots of adjusting to do. I hope that you have some things that still give you pleasure, though, if not sweetness?" “Cat stuff?” Lumin asks curiously, innocently even, a gentle tilt of their head, only the slightest of smiles. They quickly push on, giving Marinov an out should they not wish to answer, “Ah- well. Plenty of things.” Their brow furrows, then. They’re quiet for a moment too long, their fingers tap against the table, drag along the edge to rattle quietly against the texture, “I can still see sunrises. And I’m surrounded by wonderful people.” They land on, nod, and they do at least sound sure about this. “And well- what else do you really need?” "Oh, you know, how to spot ghosts late at night, how to scream at the moon and keep the neighbours up, how to get away with bad shit by being just such a damn sweetheart," says Marinov, raising their hand in a paw gesture while closing their eyes to put on a sweet, satisfied cat look. They laugh afterwards, ruining it, and nod, "Good company can go a long, long way. And beyond that, there's plenty of beauty in the world. Whether it's lying in wait or yet to be made."