Logs:Thou dost keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusts in thee.

Thou dost keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusts in thee.
Dramatis Personae Hive, Kitty, Leo	2020-08-12 << I am too tired and single to be around goddamn telepaths right now. >>
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. Late night on Wednesdays are not exactly the most bustling time around Evolve, without the nightclub's draw encouraging people to linger long past dinner hours. It's quiet, ish, in here. There's a cluster of college-aged kids occupying the back couches. One skinny raccoon-eyed man at a table by himself typing decisively on a laptop. A pink-haired winged youth talking animatedly to what appears to be an empty chair (the slowly disappearing plate of nachos in front of the chair provides some evidence they aren't just talking to themselves.) And, at one table near the front, a mop-haired young man in faded jeans, sturdy but beaten-up workboots, a tee shirt with a picture of the Death Star that reads 'ceci n'est pas une lune' beneath it. Hive has been nursing a very large coffee, mostly done with the bowl of lemongrass tofu rice noodles in front of him. He is obstinately Not Noticing the occasional glances the others in the room send in their direction -- occasionally surreptitious, occasionally not, though it's likely that the telepath catches even the most subtle of the gawkers. Leo is doing much more poorly than Hive at ignoring the stares. The banh mi in front of him is barely touched, though he's doing much better with the coffee (mostly through his second cup, now.) Dressed neat in a daisy yellow short-sleeved button down with subtle windowpane pattern and crisp, fitted blue jeans, he is fidgeting restlessly with a napkin and trying hard to school thoughts that are racing with anxiety. Not, actually, about the possibility of law enforcement descending on them at any time -- he hasn't exactly made his peace with that, but he has come to put a great deal of trust in the competence of his rotating cast of bodyguards. Mostly only: "-- it's been a while since I did school, like -- seriously. What if he went through all that trouble and I just --" Wash out? Fail? He doesn't quite conclude his sentence although several increasingly catastrophic endings to his academic career are playing in his head. Kitty is a little tired, yeah, but not tired enough to go home just yet. Driving back to the city from Westchester, even though she makes the drive often enough, is still an hour in the dark. And with a full day of meetings tomorrow at school (ugh), she's not really in the mood to cook dinner or cup noodles. It's just... easier to head out, see who's around at Evolve, get a plate of carbs. She passes the young guy with the lemongrass noodles - ugh, those look good, actually - and his friend - Kitty does a double take. Holy shit, Leonid Concepcion. She tries to recover, but it was pretty obvious she had been staring. Shit. With a more anxious gait now she goes up to the counter and orders the lemongrass beef noodles, hesitates, adds a side of fries. She takes the receipt and sits at an empty table, takes out her phone to check her email. <<Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. >> "Then you fail, I guess." Hive's gruff voice is just brimful with sympathy, honest. His bastardized mess of an accent makes him sound clearly not from New York, though it's difficult to place its origins. "You're fucking brilliant but a lot of brilliant people never finish a Ph.D. Rest easy knowing you've already done more good for this world than most people who have more prestigious credentials." He swipes a piece of tofu through the clear sauce lingering at the bottom of his bowl. Doesn't actually eat it -- instead his eyes slip aside to Kitty as she takes her seat. His voice lifts just enough to carry over to her table: "You know the news is bullshit, right?" Hive's blunt answer startles a soft laugh from Leo -- and doesn't exactly quell the anxiety, but does stop some of the ceaseless spinning his brain is doing. << {Right. Then I fail. Not the worst thing that's happened in life.} >> One anxiety winding down into a soft background-current -- another starting up. << {-- don't want to just be known for that, though.} >> A shifting discomfort that -- -- doesn't quite blossom into his full tailspin from before. He follows Hive's glance towards Kitty. Flushes faintly at the other man's comment. He sets the napkin down on the table, fingers lightly smoothing where he's twisted creases into the paper. There's a rote quality to his tone when he speaks, as if he's already said many times before: "For one thing, I'm not Chinese." Kitty’s eyes bolt up from her phone, looking around for whoever was clearly listening in on her brain. She didn’t recognize anyone in here that she knew was a telepath, so she scans the room, locking eyes with the shaggy hair guy sitting with Leonid. <<It’s rude to listen to strangers,>> she thinks, but Kitty is intrigued besides herself. <<That’s probably an invitation>>. Or maybe some sort of weird pass. When her food comes, she takes the two bowls and walks over to Leo’s table, sitting across from the napkin dispenser. “So I’m guilty of doomscrolling,” she says out loud with a shrug, pushing the fries forward as a peace offering. “Sue me.” To Leo- “I try not to assume. Or guess.” Her previous mental guess was Filipino, but she sure isn’t going to say it. "Strangers? Please, I've known you for --" Hive cuts himself off. Scrutinizes Kitty's face a long moment. Slouches further in his seat as he takes a fry and eats it. "Mngh. Other me. Although honestly, bigass fucking nerd like you I'm startled he hasn't invited you over before." Following the fry he does munch his tofu, head shaking slightly. "And trust me, if I could stop eavesdropping, I would. There is not a telepath in the world who wants to listen to an apartment building collectively doomscrolling their way through the trainwreck that is 2020." His eyes narrow at Leo. "I think Fox has moved on to Mexican by now." "Oh, you know each other?" Even as soon as he says this, there's a rapid succession of confusion (<< 'other me'? >>) that shifts into a tenuous understanding, << {Does he mean Flicker?} >> and just as quickly back into confusion: << {they aren't -- the same.} >> His eyes have lowered as Kitty sits, though this does nothing to calm the odd internal roiling -- sort of nausea-adjacent -- as someone new draws near. Whatever internal unease his ability brings, his conscious thoughts are more at ease at Hive's lack of concern about the newcomer. "It's a hard habit to break. I know I shouldn't be doing it and still --" A very small shrug. He picks up knife and fork to cut a bite off the large sandwich rather than picking it up. "Someone saw me with Ion once and the next thing I knew I had joined MS-13. It came as a shock to me, I have to say." Her eyes dart back and forth between the two men as they talk, not saying anything but “No, I don’t know him.” She’s confused, trying not to let it show on her face even though she knows it’s pointless. Kitty wasn’t ever great at Psionic Defense when she was ready for it, let alone when she was coming off a full day of training. She focuses on her dinner companions. <<Cute, if he didn’t act like he knew me,>> is her assessment of the stranger. <<Media really uses the worst photo of him,>> is her assessment of Leo. Of herself: << I am too tired and single to be around goddamn telepaths right now. >> Kitty shrugs. “I barged in a conversation just this morning,” she admits, twisting noodles around a fork. “Pot, meet kettle.” She hold her hand out to Leo - <<no sense being rude>> - “Kitty, but your friend seems to know that already.” "Sorry. Dawson's my --" Hive hesitates, something quick and complicated passing over his expression. "-- roommate. I overhear a lot." The quick twitch of smile that follows is less complicated. "They have to work fucking hard to make this man look bad but they try it. -- Was it an interesting conversation? I always barge in on interesting conversations." << Dawson, >> Leo is mentally correcting his own previous unvoiced thought. Beneath this he's also filing away his previous confusion as a deficiency of English comprehension: << 'other me'? {Is that like} 'better half'? >> There's only the slightest beat of hesitation before he reaches to take Kitty's hand. One brief small squeeze, then back to carefully severing another bite of sandwich. "Leo. Nice to meet you. That's Hive. I am sometimes convinced he knows everything. You know --" << Dawson it's Dawson >> "Dawson, then?" His eyes sweep over her just briefly. << {do they wear shorts}? >> Catch on the Magen David. He dismisses whatever his previous thought had been with a small shake of head, flicking instead through several likely options of connection << {Doctor? Nerd? Vigilante}? >> that each come with their own fleeting accompanying imagery that ultimately blend into one -- Kitty in a labcoat using a handful of explosive D20s to Fight Crime. "Nice to meet you, too." She gives Leo a small smile - she's grateful for what he's done for the city, but doesn't know how to say it without making shit weird. Or, well, weirder than it is already. Dawson's roommate, huh? She gives Hive another once over, trying to remember how Dawson had described his roommates to her before. <<No wings - the other one? The friend with the money?>>. "Huh," she says. "Seems like you know everyone, at least." The memory of the morning's conversation floats to the surface. <<Does he do memories? Take a look,>> Kitty thinks. <<If he hangs with Dawson he must be decent enough.>> Out loud: "It wasn't any of my business, but I was trying to be helpful. I guess like you were if you're trying to get me off Twitter just now." She's getting a little more comfortable, if somone could be comfortable at a table with the most infamous mutant in America and someone who already knows you, somehow. At least the food is good. In mid-sip of his coffee Hive's eyes widen, darting to Leo; he snorts some of the drink up his nose, setting the mug back down to cover his face with one hand through his splutter-cough-laugh. "Fuck," he says, aloud, and then, picking up a napkin to dab at his slightly DRIPPING face, "-- I bet we could rustle up some exploding D20s for them. B could do it." Hive crumples the napkin, setting it down beside his plate. "I meddle compulsively. Feels less skeevy than just listening all the time and pretending I'm not. And weirdly, just telling people 'by the way I'm hearing your thoughts' without any other interaction isn't, uh, less unsettling." His lips twist briefly to one side. "You all ever figure out what was up with your missing kid?" Leo's cheeks darken again, but his smile is amused. "I'm honestly surprised she hasn't already made some. Though -- it would be a disaster to get them mixed up with the normal dice at Game Night." Hive's comment triggers a flutter of discomfort and then a twinge of guilt at that discomfort as he tries awkwardly to reconcile relying on Hive's ability for his own safety with the deeply unsettling knowledge that Hive can poke through his thoughts as well. (It triggers, too, a parallel line of musing: how often do people feel similarly in regards to him?) Out loud, as he sips his coffee: "You lost a kid?" His mind collapses Kitty's likely points of intersection with Dawson down, tugging Xavier's forefront as the most probable. There is some sort of joke happening between Leo and Hive - Kitty isn't positive she wants to know. Something to do with Dungeons and Dragons, apparently. B - do they mean Shane's sister? She eats more of her dinner while Hive cleans himself up. If they don't want to let her into the joke, thats fine. <<He makes a good point,>> Kitty thinks. "Guess there isn't a way for it to not be weird," she settles on saying. It's clear Leo is playing catch up, though, so Kitty throws him a bone - "One of the students went for a city adventure without telling staff, apparently. Which is fine, but," she pauses. Memories flash - her own kidnapping as a child, then subsequent ones throughout her childhood, Shadowcat as a victim and a rescuer. "People worry," she settles on saying. "Whether it's justified or not." "Leo was trying to guess where you knew Dawson from," Hive supplies. "Mashing his most likely guesses ended up with you in a labcoat throwing explosive dice at badguys. Very common pastimes of his." His brows furrow. "You are a nerd, though. Why don't you come to Game Night? You should. Board games and good food." He finishes off the last dregs of his noodles, lacing his fingers against his stomach after. "Guess that's better than the alternatives. There was a stretch where Getting Kidnapped was basically an established school sport over there." Though his tone is light, there's a brief clench of tension in his bony frame. "Kidnapped?" The jolt of alarm that ripples through Leo's mind comes with a flash of bare sparse cell, bright lights, nausea, a nightclub hanging from the belt of a stubble-faced guard. It doesn't quite fade at his mental reminder to himself that the student in question was not in fact kidnapped. "I'm -- glad they're okay. I'd worry. The world can be --" (Kitty in a labcoat again -- this time crisp, dispassionate, wielding a butterfly needle to draw blood from a nearly-collapsed vein.) "-- hard on people like us." Kitty snorts. "I wish. That would be a cool gimmick." She doesn't feel tall enough to be that cool - a vigilante that has exploding dice for their gimmick seems very Ocean's Eleven. Someone kind of cartoony, with a casino vibe. Probably an accent, too. "Good guess, though. I know Dawson from school, and then, uh," she gives the air a sad little punch, "related extracurriculars. Not med school. I don't do wet lab." A short memory of glass shattering in undergraduate chemistry floats up, then is buried again as Hive invites her. "I, uh-" <<What, too busy? You're always busy.>> What is her main hang up? The idea that board games might have been an conversion exercise? She quirks an eyebrow. "Who all goes? Anyone else you know I know?" She does like Catan. Leo seems agitated. "Hey," Kitty says, reaching a hand out but not making contact - it's instinct, but also she just met this guy. "Shit's tough out here, but so are we. If something was up, we'd find them, no sweat. Always do." A lie, but she's going for a sort of older mentor vibe. Leo looked younger than her, anyway. "Fry?" "Please. Shane and B come up to my ankles and they have flying motorcycles. Cool is in your heart." Hive tenses further at the flutter of memories from the others, then eases. "Shit, yeah, we're all busy as hell. I think that's why he started it. Even if you don't come regularly s'just nice to have -- one place you know you can relax a little in the middle of the trashfire." His fingers drum lightly against the back of his hand as he considers. "Uh, who would you know. Jax is usually there -- we used to hold it at home but we've been having it at Matt's place lately so he doesn't have to trek. Daiki and Joshua when their nonsense schedules allow. Blink." His lips twitch up into a crooked smile. "I'm still Buddhist after all these years so if it's a conversion attempt he's keeping it on the low." He sits up a little straighter. A small frown flits across his face. Though tenser again, he is unhurried as he collects the detritus from his meal into a neat stack. "You should wrap that up," with a nod towards the rest of Leo's sandwich. "We're about to have to go." "No wonder I've never been cool. The only thing in my heart is nested layers of anxiety." The smile Leo gives Kitty is small and grateful. He doesn't complete the almost-contact but does accepts the offered fries, plucking two out. "It is nice, sometimes. To have a little bit of normal in the middle of --" Hive's dawning tension completes this thought. Unlike Basically Every Other Thing so far this conversation, this doesn't trigger any new wave of stress -- just a small nod of acceptance as he gets up promptly to collect his things. Scoop Hive's up so that he might drop the dishes and trash off in passing on his way to get a container for his sandwich. "It was nice to meet you, Kitty. Stay safe." Kitty laughs - it’s true after all- and nods as Hive describes game night. It sounds lovely to her- lots of friendly faces. And Hive is still Buddhist? Good news. “Matt’s place,” she repeats, smiling. “I’ll swing by sometime.” Something shifts- Kitty looks around but can’t identify whatever it is. “Uh, yeah. Good to meet you both?” Ugh, it shouldn’t sound like a question, but they are both clearly bouncing fast. “You too.” Soon enough it’s just her at the table, her noodles getting cold. She stabs at them, pulls out her phone to text Dawson. About game night...