Logs:Uncertain Tea

Uncertain Tea
Dramatis Personae Anahita, Cyan
In Absentia	2024-12-26 “‘s been a long week.”
Location <NYC> Le Carrefour, Le Bonne Entente - Astoria, Queens
Above the bustle of the clerestory restaurant, tucked at the base of the bell tower, this indoor garden and library is out of the way and easily overlooked, sure to become a favored "hidden gem" of travel guides. Low bookshelves full of mythology, fairy tales, and folklore ring the central elevator shaft and the stairway spiraling around it like an easily navigable labyrinth. Beyond these are plants in a variety of tastefully whimsical containers, each with its own engraved plaque giving the common name, the scientific name, and their significance to various traditional stories and practices. The walls have been done away with so that the room extends beyond the doric columns into a surreal rooftop garden enclosed with glass stretching between the tower's massive buttresses. The arrangement of plantlife becomes less formal as one moves out into the four arms of the conservatory, visible containers giving way to beds and terraces and eventually landscapes carefully cultivated to look wild. There is plentiful seating scattered along the paths and just off of them, from proper benches to picturesque logs to surprisingly comfortable boulders. By day, myriad butterflies dance amongst the enchanted vegetation, and likewise moths by night. A shallow stream weaves throughout, feeding ponds that host plants of their own alongside fish, frogs, and turtles. Wandering the outer edges of the conservatory, one could almost feel lost in a mystical forest but for the stunning views of the cityscape beyond the glass. The lately returned sun is shining so bright in a sky so clear that the warmth inside the conservatory does not feel quite so at odds with the winter outside as it often has these last few days. Whether owing to the break in the weather or the rhythm of holiday travel, there are not many souls in the crossroads for lunch today. Nevertheless, Anahita has selected a generally low-traffic spot to bring her skittish guest. There is low stone table here bracket by oddly comfortable stone stools, a mossy log bench, and a small pond picturesque with lotuses and sleepy koi. Anahita is sitting on the log, her tablet set aside for the moment while she pours rich fragrant black tea for her guest, leaving the creamer and sugar in their easy reach. She's wearing a plain black shirt, black slacks, and a rich purple shayla she has loosened to drape down around her shoulders, leaving the waves of her silvery black hair loose. "I can enter you into the database under whatever name you prefer, but will need a reliable means of contact, if you have one available." She sweetens and lightens her tea, then picks her tablet back up. "As well as some information about access needs, and of course the type of housing situation you are aiming for." Cyan is dressed in his usual black-on-black hoodie, cargo-pants and heavy boots combo. But today it is also different. A velvet-like deep purple scarf, with a gold trim and a tiny little chime attached to each corner that jingles softly with their every move, is draped around their neck. And their hands are covered by a pair of red leather gloves, each fingertip decorated with a different emoticon inset into the leather. He doesn’t entirely know why Santa decided he needed an assortment of the most eye-catching scarves and gloves possible, but he does feel very swag. His eyes are somewhat wetter than usual, little pools of green-blue translucent liquid forming around his eyes every now and then before rapidly fading away and reappearing. He sniffles before he talks, his facemask for a brief second looking like it’s being inhaled. “Uhm so...any name? You don’t need my real name? Or like, real social security number?” He sounds a little relieved, if a bit skeptical, as he internally slowly counts to thirty before adding milk to his own tea. “Does decent ventilation go under access needs?” "For the main account, any name will do." Anahita rests the tablet in her lap and takes up her tea, though she still does not drink. "Applications for different services ask for different information. Most of them require some form of legal identification, and many do require a social security number. This isn't the Foundation being arbitrary, for the most part, it's to do with the City's housing assistance regulations." This does not come in the tones of an apology, but the tip of her head is perhaps a bit sympathetic. "Decent ventilation ought to be considered a basic necessity, but yes, I will add it as an access need." She finally does sip her tea, then sets it down and takes up her stylus to make a note. "I have noticed that you seem averse to being around too many other people. You need not explain this to me, but it might be relevant to discuss given quite a lot of the services involve group housing." She looks up from her screen, not directly at Cyan, but at the soft curtain of well-manicured cattails fringing the far end of the pond, whence a frog is chirping quietly. "Not all. But long term solidary housing can be difficult to secure." Cyan squirms, glancing around as if he’s looking for something, before putting his focus back on his tea. “I shouldn’t share a living space with anyone.” Carefully he unhooks his face masks, sipping at the tea. “You recon plants ever hallucinate?” Another sip, this time longer, his shoulders markedly relaxing, before he very suddenly turns away from her, rapidly putting his arm up to cover a sneeze. “Sorry, I was out a bit late last night.” His fingers find their way back to the cup --- cradling it carefully in his hands -- despite the conservatory’s warmth he’s shivering. “People breathe me in, they go a bit loopy, small amounts are okay, but prolonged exposure.” He grimaces, “let’s just say that last time I had a roommate she put her head through the wall then turned into a zombie..” "I wish more adults allowed themselves to ask questions like that." Anahita waves off the apology with just a light touch of a smile. "Plants have senses, and those senses can become disordered. Whether that counts as 'hallucinating' might come down to semantics." She glances at a nearby shrub, dark and thick and heavy with thorns. "I shall keep this in mind, though, the next time someone starts growing sideways for reasons mysterious to me." The uptick of her brows at Cyan's reluctant explanation is minute, and she does not immediately reply. She does look directly at Cyan, but only for an instant before returning her gaze to the pond without removing them from her sightline. "That does seem awkward. Would the same concern apply to a situation where you have your own bedroom and bathroom but share a common kitchen and living room? That is a common arrangement for our supportive housing units." He takes a moment to think before replying, this isn’t the lightest of topic. “I haven’t exactly tried it before..?” Despite the tone it’s not really a question, more of a ponder. “If the ventilation is good, and people get that they shouldn’t be touching me, it should be fine, I think? Just-” he turns the cup around in his hands, then quickly gulps the remains down as he remembers that he shouldn’t have his face exposed for this long, “-I...” Hitching his facemasks back in place, he hesitates, unsure of exactly how much to say. “It’s very important,” his tone is somber, his eyes in all their runniness peeled on Anahita, watching for the smallest hint that this might backfire, “that my- certain people-” the way he says the phrase is pointed and slow, “-does not figure out where I am.” "I do not think any of the emergency housing units I know would be safe for you. But." Anahita rubs the edge of her tablet's smooth screen with the pad of her thumb, not far enough into the display area to actually control anything. "My transitional housing unit will have an opening soon, and provided my housemates are willing to work with you on the precautions, I can persuade a caseworker to fast-track you." She stills, at the change in Cyan's tone, her thumb pad pressing into the glass. "I do not know who your certain people are." She does not copy their intonation perfectly, but she does make a careful attempt. "What you fear will come of them finding you. Or how you think they are likely to do so." Only now does she look at them again. "I may not be able to help you. But I would need to know at least some of that information in order to try." Cyan leans back, his fingers tapping rapidly on the table as he considers it. Among all the fucked-up people he’s met, between the crackheads, crazed cultists, sociopathic researchers and wanna-be crime lords there’s only one person he really fears. “Eliza Liach, she used to get into the press for getting Hollywood creeps off the hook, dunno what she’s up to these days. ” He sniffs but it really is just the cold, his tone is completely devoid of emotions. “If she realizes I’m alive she’ll find a way to legally kill me.” His foot is matching the tapping of his fingers, his eyes darting around to see if anyone’s watching. Should he be telling her this? Is he painting a target on his back by just mentioning his mother’s name? A sudden sneeze interrupts his thoughts, “Sorry, got a stupid cold or something,” he sniffs, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “‘s been a long week.” Anahita's brows only pinch very faintly through the course of this explanation. She remains still even after Cyan's finished, and it's only the sneeze jars that jars her out of her trance. "Does she have good cause to believe you are dead?" She takes another sip of her tea, then draws herself up with a sudden start. "Are you dead? I would not hold it against you, sometimes these things happen." She opens her bag, reaches in without so much as looking, and produces a flat pack of tissues which she casually passes to Cyan. "I know quite a few people who have died and come back, and one of them is still fairly dead." He wrings his hands, squirming even more in his seat at the questions. “I’m not dead. Pretty sure about that...” the way he trails off betrays that he’s not one hundred percent on the statement. “I dunno what she believes, she...” he stops fidgeting, putting his head in his hands, trying to find a way to phrase what he wants to say. “I think she very much wants to pretend I’m dead, but I haven’t seen her in over six years. Not since she sent me to the Lab. I think doing anything that makes it harder for her to pretend I’m dead is generally unhealthy.” Pulling his head out of his hands he looks at her curiously “wait what do you mean by dead but came back? Like a zombie?” Anahita pulls in a sharp breath. "Lab," she says flatly. "Your. Certain person gave you to Prometheus." She picks up her tea again, and cups it between her hands. "Whether she thinks you alive or dead, going through the labs tends to wreck your paper trail. Most of the time, that is an inconvenience if not an active danger. In your case, it may have a silver lining." Her gaze drifts to the blackthorn she was addressing earlier. "Maybe she was hallucinating," this she mutters aside quietly, her ambiguous accent stronger than usual. But she shakes herself out of that, too, and looks at Cyan again, closely. "Oh, no. Mostly they're just alive again. One of them is a zombie, though. You do not strike me as a zombie, but you are often very covered up." “All wrapped up with a bowtie.” he mumbles sarcasm dripping off his tongue. Carefully, Cyan reaches to pour himself another cup of tea, watching Anahita as if he's expecting her to stop him. “Covering up’s important- “ his head is starting to swim from whatever bug it is he’s picked up, “- can’t risk accidental exposure, have you ever seen a goose trip balls? It’s not pretty.” He shakes his head gravely, “I try to be responsible-” another sneeze breaks his chain of thoughts, “-you recon a zombie can hallucinate?” "I would not betray you to such a one," Anahita says severely. "I was Blackburn, 2019." This comes in the gently casual tone of one attempting to name-drop a prestigious alma mater without pretension. She gives Cyan an encouraging smile and the shallowest of nods when he reaches for the tea again, before something just past his shoulder catches her attention. "I think the zombie I know can, but the sample size is really too small to say. Geese are beyond me, sober or otherwise." She sips her tea without looking away from whatever caught her eye. "I will try to get your application pushed through without your legal name. Or, failing that, help you find a new one." She glances aside to the dark shrub again. "A secret is a powerful thing, but it would be wise to deal cautiously with her." "Verela, 4 years. Then...somewhere else." Cyan goes quiet for several seconds. "Geese are beyond most things." He shakes his shoulders, as if shaking off something heavy. The tea is good, and the warmth from it even better. "Thank you." Anahita's eyes narrow just a sliver, but not apparently at Cyan. "That is odd." She blinks back at Cyan. "Not your lab assignment, which is awful but unsurprising. I will keep you apprised about your application." She picks her tablet back up, squints at it a bit critically, then makes a couple of notes before slipping it back into her bag and resuming her tea instead. "You are very welcome. I can mix some herbal tea for your cold, too, before I go back on shift. You needn't go of course. If you stick around, I might introduce you to some hallucinating plants."