Logs:The Ad-dressing of Cats

The Ad-dressing of Cats
cn: unreality
Dramatis Personae Elizabeth, Gino
In Absentia Cyan	2025-01-04 "I haven't... adjusted, I guess."
Location <MOR> Welcome to the Freakshow - Morlock Tunnels
Wider and more spacious than many of the surrounding nooks and niches, this chill cavern is the central hub of the Morlock's underground network. With tunnels branching off in many directions, it takes a while to learn to navigate from here to where you want to go, but there's generally plenty of more experienced people around to teach newcomers the ins and outs of the pathways. Here, though, is a safe place to come and relax, for what value of relaxation can be found among moss-covered walls and the occasional stagnant puddles on the floor. There's been furniture brought in, a mismatched assortment of crates, mattresses with busted springs, a few broken and subsequently repaired chairs, a folding table in a corner. Shelves along a wall hold entertainment; books, a smattering of board and card games, sometimes snacks. There's even electricity, wiring none too safe and visible in places where the wall has been broken open; the naked light bulbs flicker often and the lone outlet has had so many power strips attached it is undoubtedly a fire hazard. In the dim, damp tunnel, the little red spot of laser pointer is bright and conspicuous, or at least it is whenever it can be seen past the trio of black cats duking it out for laser pointer dominance, not nearly enough cats to constitute a 'mob' but moblike all the same in the way they shoulder into each other, scrabbling with their paws whenever the glowing pinpoint darts up the moldy, mossy wall. Gino is sitting nearby at a (surprisingly stable) cafe table, slouched lazily in his chair, the laser pointer just stuck in the 'on' position and then stuck to his shelly forehead, so that the beam dances on the wall along with the easygoing bobble of his head along to the music playing quietly on the mp3 player stuck in a glass at the edge of the table (an opera song set to a background of rhythmic clanging, made echoey by his makeshift speaker.) He has a small rolling tray, his papers and grinder still sitting in it (along with an open pack of replacement batteries for the laser pointer) in front of him, but he's apparently already rolled all the weed he has, today; now he's just drinking a can of Natty Light. It's five o'clock somewhere! It may even be five o'clock in New York City, for all he knows. Elizabeth doesn't know why she came back all of that time ago. She entered the tunnels when she was at her worst, maybe still is. It's a trauma that never really leaves you, such a crisis. There's sometimes she wakes up at night and doesn't know if she's awake or dreaming. This is one such occasion. Sitting up with a start, she looks for something, anything, that fits reality. Fits what she knows to be reality. That was another problem with the tunnels. You never knew, was it night or day, morning or evening, afternoon or not. And with the limited resources she had, it wasn't like she could afford a watch. Hell, debated stealing one. But building a record, possibly bringing attention down on her fellow Morlocks... no. That wasn't what they needed. Wasn't what she needed either. She's still, in her dream-awake state, taken aback by Gino. Sorry Gino. It was always damp in here, and she began to regret her decision not to wear shoes, or more than thin boots. But when you had clawed feet like she did, like the cats did, shoes weren't really made for those like her. She startles as she spots the laser, spots Gino. "Sorry. I... I can't tell if I'm awake. Are... are you real?" Gino glances up at Elizabeth with mild surprise, the laser beam skittering too fast away from the wall for the cats to follow (sorry, cats! They're left sort of brawling each other for no reason, now.) Gino does not seem to notice what he's just done to his cats -- he's looking Elizabeth up and down, then glancing down at himself, tattooed arms and shelly spikes and bold-patterned Hawaiian shirt. "I wonder that myself sometimes," he says, "but what sort of sadist would make this up, right?" One of the cats -- Caesar? Pompey? -- has spotted the beam across the room, but as all three bolt yowling after it, Gino is going back to his beer and his Verdi. "Party a little too hard at New Year, huh?" he's saying knowingly. "Man, I am still high, that drug guy needs a warning label. Dosage severely variable." "No. I didn't... party." She states, folding her arms for a moment, before realizing it's rude. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be... short. Everything with Freaktown, even though it was so long ago... I can't sleep as well as I used to. I haven't... adjusted, I guess. Can't tell if I'm awake or asleep half the time." Elizabeth, by contrast, looks like a devil of some kind has just come to visit. She's got deep red skin, marred with scars, no doubt from, well... what mutants normally have gone through. Any number of injustices, really. Glowing yellow eyes, and a subdued wardrobe. A tattered old sweater, basic pants, not quite jeans but not quite slacks, corduroy, maybe? And to top it off, a pair of worn but not-very-soled boots, which her claws have poked holes into, no doubt from trying them on. She also has added a knee-length tailcoat due to the chill of the damp tunnels. Unfortunately, her boots are constantly damp, which she visibly shifts her feet up, then back down at with a grimace. The textures aren't great, she'd prefer something softer, less likely to trap dirt and grime and tunnel-grossness, but you take what you have. "I don't really... partake. In any of that. I'm messed up enough as it is, and they say those who may be 'messed up'... should probably not partake in substances." Gino reaches for his laser pointer, first to detach it, then to turn it off. "I didn't think you were being short," he says, with a shrug; he's scraping sort of lazily up to his feet to lope after the three cats, now meowing loudly and confusedly across the room, plopping one onto his shoulders and scooping the other two under each arm. He's listening, though, taking in her words with a slow, serious nod, before he says, "Have you tried Xanax? I bet I could find you Xanax." This is, of course, before she says she doesn't partake -- as he's plopping back down at his cafe table, just sort of bowling the cats at the ground (Caesar immediately hares back off to hunt for the laser pointer speck again, Crassus jumps up into Gino's lap, then Pompey also jumps up into Gino's lap to knock his brother back to earth) he says, a little eyerolly, "Oh, okay, scratch that, then, I guess." He leans back down to grab Crassus back up. "Not gonna lie, that really disqualifies me from giving you sleep hygiene advice." She keeps her wings tucked around her, like a sort of security blanket. It's a comfort to see the cats, as scrunkled as they appear, because it means even they can survive down here. Granted, they're probably strays or owned by Gino or someone else in the tunnels, but she had leared that they all take care of one another, something she wasn't used to doing. Her mind told her to only protect herself, that everyone else was going to betray her, some unresolved trauma that she had never dealt with. "I suppose it does." Her voice is still that weird mix of Massachusetts and New York, something she can't quite get rid of, but also isn't sure if she wants to. It is who she is. To change that would be to change herself, and while change is good, this kind of change is unnecessary. "Have you been taking care of them long?" She speaks, gesturing to the cats. "I quite like them, but unfortunately most animals don't seem to like me." "The cats?" Gino twists Crassus to look at her, with a little mreep (the cat, not Gino) before he sets him down. "Yeah, a year or so, they lived with us back in Freaktown. Probably just shy of you 'cause you never come out. Isn't like they're not used to weird." He scratches at his head self-consciously with the too-pointy tip of one knuckle, tilting Elizabeth a scrutinizing look and then glancing back across the room. "Probably you could get animals to like you, if you tried. You come on too strong with a cat you'll freak him out, but --" now he's fitting one hand up under Crassus's chin with a thin smile, so-so-so careful of his spikes, "-- let a cat come to you on his own terms, man, sometimes I think his heart is bigger than mine." So Gino was the big-hearted type. Maybe she just didn't understand the expression, but that sounded like a medical issue you did not want. She definitely didn't understand the expression. The cat is adorable, if that's what these are called. She's never seen one before. At least, not up close, but she always liked how majestic they often looked while running around. These ones though... less majestic, more scrunkly. "Cats are the type of craeture where you have to ease into a relationship with them... hm. I'll keep that in mind. Anyhow Gino, I should be going, I was just passing through, things to do today and all on the surface. Do you need anything while I'm out?" "Oh-ho-ho you do do things on the surface?" This is with a slight widening of his eyes, a soft scrape of his carapaced brow when he tries to raise it, only barely audible past Il trovatore still echoing up from the glass on the table. "Go get 'em, girl, bring me another Natty Light." Gino is lifting his can to her as he says this, then slumping back in his chair for another long sip, posture relaxing again to enjoy his lazy lazy Saturday -- whatever time it is. "This is my first time getting to see them up close, actually. Cats, I mean. I knew of them, of course, but I hadn't really ever gotten to interact with one. They always ran away from me. Maybe I came on too strong, like you said. But I'll work on getting that for you, no problem." She speaks, gently giving whichever cat will come near her a pet, if able. If not, she'll just begin to leave, making a mental note to interact with cats more. "I never got to have a cat growing up. My mother wasn't really the... best. Anyway, I'm glad to see they're well taken care of. Do they uh... need food or anything? I can grab that too." Gino shakes his head, head still tilting at a crooked incline to the cats in his lap (Caesar, on the other side of the room, seems to have decided that the laser pointer's beam has been vanquished and is tearing on a triumphant victory lap around the room.) "Nah, I got half a bag still. These li'l dudes are hella self-sufficient anyway. Out here on pest patrol." He glances back up at Elizabeth, one eye twitching squintily, and though the pause that follows this suggests that he is thinking very hard about his next words, what comes out is -- "Genny Light or Coors will do too thank youuuu."