Logs:Welcome to New York

Welcome to New York
Dramatis Personae Kitty, Alexander	2023-07-05 '
Location <NYC> Q-Tip - East Harlem
This is the kind of place you go to when you want a dive bar but don't want to wait for compete for use of the sole pool table covered with suspicious stains that always leans toward one corner pocket. Q-Tip may not be fancy, but its tables are solid and the drinks are decent. The bartenders are polite but taciturn, the regulars are diverse but largely blue collar men with a sprinkling of hipsters, and the neon-lit jukebox always seems to be playing classic rock. It's early afternoon -- too early, likely, for bar-crawling, too early for many to be at a bar at all. Most of the sparse scattering of people in Q-Tip at this hour are regulars, with the odd Harlem Hipster tucked away in a corner booth writing poetry on a glowing laptop screen. There's a game of pool going, a couple folks drinking at the bar. In this scene, Kitty -- in a pale blue Columbia University tank top tucked into wide-legged shorts, curly hair tied in a loose low ponytail, gold Star of David pendant resting on her collarbone and jade bangle fit impossibly snug around her left wrist -- sticks out like a sore thumb. A sore cheerful thumb, as she's chatting up the bartender, chin propped up in the palm of one hand while the other waggles her phone out towards him. "-- Really, you haven't seen him? My dad loves this place, I thought for sure he might have stopped by." She closes the photo of her and Carmen and tucks her phone away, reaches now for a mostly unused bar napkin. "You got a pen? Let me leave my number, just in case you see him." Alexander was sitting at the bar, a cheap beer in hand, good tunes playing over the juke box. Thankfully Alexander had the day off so he didn't have to worry to much about work tonight, and since he had nothing else better to do he figured a drink would be a nice treat. He wore his favorite, quite distinct bomber jacket, made of dyed purple leather. An unusual customer had come in that day, someone he'd never seen before.While it wasn't odd in anyway for new customers to walk in, she didn't seem like the type to frequent dive bars. Pretending not to pay attention, Alexander made sure to keep an ear open for their conversation. The bartender finishes cleaning the glass in his hand, setting it down making sure it was out of the way. He nods at Kitty before walking over to the register and returning with a pen. "Her you go." He says cordially, handing the pen over. "Thank you," comes cheerful and bright as Kitty scribbles down her number, two names, a LOOKING FOR MY DAD note, and passes it back. "I'm gonna ask around, please call me if you see him, thank you so much!" When the bartender leaves again, the expression on Kitty's falls into a scowl. She spins on the stool, looks around the room with a sour expression, considering every patron in turn before her attention turns to Alexander -- stutters on his jacket -- looks up and considers him more thoughtfully. Relocates down the bar and pops herself up on a seat next to him. "Nice jacket." Not as bright as her conversation before, but there is a wisp of a smile returning to her face. "You a regular around here?" The bar tender takes the napkin and pen back before walking over and placing it on the counter next to the register. Alexander took another swig from his bottle. "Thanks" his words coming across as uninterested, he continued to gaze at the tv above the bar. The news station was on, reporting about what you'd normally see in New York. His eyes shifted slightly to her without turning his head before going back to the screen. He hesitates slightly thinking about his answer. "Sort of..." There's a pause before he speaks again. "Are you?" He asked even though he knew the answer. "Sort of?" Kitty's eyebrows lift. "Like, you're in here once a week, once a month, or you're new in town?" She tilts her head to one side, cheek propped up on her hand again. "Oh -- nah, but I was in and out of here once in a while when I was in school." She gestures to the text on her shirt. Above them, the news is turning -- as it has, over and over again, over the last day, to Ryan Black's concert-annoucement-plea-to-the-nation, to the missing son of mutant terrorist Jackson Holland, to interviews with parents on the brink of tears as they wonder what happened to their children for, possibly, the crime of being friends with Spencer Holland. Kitty's eyes flick up, her face falling. Waves over at the bartender, again, pointing up at the screen -- "Do you mind turning it down?" Alexander takes another sip of his beer. He's close to finishing it. "Fair enough" He says. His eyes fixated on the TV watching intently about these missing kids. The bartender moves over and turns it down. Alex sets his drink down softly , a clink of the bottle can be heard as the glass hits the laminated countertop. He turns slowly, his face emotionless but gruff. "I was listening that.." His attention now fully turned to Kitty. "What is it you want." Alexander seemed almost defensive at this point. A nice girl, talking to someone like him wasn't common place in his life, so his guard was up. He didn't appear hostile in anyway shape or form, but it was clear his patience was thinning. Kitty's eyes widen, tension suddenly setting in her shoulders. "-- I guess that's news to you, huh." Her brows furrow. "Sorry, I just --" she tips her head to the TV, voice dropping just a touch softer, "-- well, my community has been looking for them for a while, now." What community does she mean? Her free hand is drifting to play with the star hanging around her neck. "I'm not super interested in hearing pundits argue about their chances of coming home. It's pretty demoralizing." Alexander continues to look at her, his expression tired but serious. "Its important to keep up with current events, even though sometimes it can be....misleading." He watches her fiddle with her necklace, discussing her interest in these missing children. Matching her volume he responds. "What does the Jewish community want with a bunch of mutant kids?" This guy couldn't be serious could he? He shifted,turning to face the bar and TV yet again. "I'm not either, most of the time it's a bunch of liars, just selling false hope, but if there is a sliver of information that can be gained it might be worth sifting through the bullshit." "Spencer is very loudly Jewish," Kitty remarks mildly, pointing up at a picture of the child in question wearing a kippah with a cartoon sun on it, briefly there before replaced again as the muted newscaster cycles through the images of missing children. "And some of those kids are human. Lots of folks want them home safe." Her fingers twist through the Magen David again -- and then it falls against her collarbone, even though she did not let go. "I meant my other community, though. Mutant community." She's watching Alexander's face carefully as she says this. Alexander watches as the kids cycle through, bad timing on his part but thats on him for not paying attention. "Fair enough." He picks up his bottle and finishes the drink off, setting it down on the bar. He tilts his head down, seemingly upset,though as soon as Kitty mentioned being part of the mutant community, his head perked up again "Not here." He motions to a few men over in the corner. Alexander places a few dollars on the counter for his drink, before getting up from his barstool. " Keep the change" "You, let's talk elsewhere" he says quietly as to not cause any more suspicion. Kitty's eyes track -- not at once, not clumsily, but practiced subtlety that seems at odds with her easy stance -- to the cluster of men Alexander indicates. Smiles, easy. Doesn't quite relax as she slips off her barstool. "Call me, okay?" Kitty says to the bartender as she goes. When the door shuts behind them she turns west, towards the greenery of Central Park visible three blocks away. "Either," she says, casual and light as she walks, "you're about to hate-crime me, which, good luck trying, or..." One shoulder hitches up. "There are better places in the city to hang out for folks like us." The bar tender smiles and nods" If I see anything I'll let you know" Once outside Alex stretches a little before turning the opposite direction. "Your second guess is the correct one.-- Theres a small shop nearby I don't go there often, not my type of place, but it should be safe for us to discuss things in more detail. We can discuss your dad too. Maybe there's something connecting the twos disappearance." "So you were listening." No judgment there, but there is a touch of self-satisfaction in Kitty's tone. "Don't worry about my dad -- I am pretty sure he's fine, wherever he's gone off to." She turns back to face Alexander, but is not walking east to follow. "Central Park is close, and public, and I do not actually know you. What's the name of the shop?" A beat, then she adds, "What's your name?" Alexander stops walking, turns around and faces Kitty, though he ignores the comment about her dad since she seems to have a handle on it. "You make a fair point..." He thinks real quick, should he give his real name out, or a fake name she seemed trustworthy enough, telling a stranger you are a mutant isn't something most folks did out right. "Central park is fine, I don't know the name of the shop well enough it's like Bugs and poems or something. Not too sure" he pauses before stating his name"Alexander" "Busboys and Poets?" Kitty tilts her head, considering. "Yeah, I know it. It's fine enough -- more likely to be overheard, this time of day, if that's something you're worried about. Which -- it's not illegal to talk about being a mutant, you know." Her lips press together. "Not yet, anyway." She rocks back on her heels. "Kitty. Mutant, proud of it, friend of missing persons. You know anything? There's a reward out. 250k per kid." There's a light curl of distaste on the number. "Make a lot of friends if you did, if you hung out at, like, places that aren't full of bigots." "Yeah that's the place. Too fancy for my taste." He gives a slight chuckle, before going back to his stoic self,almost as if he wouldn't let himself have any fun. "Its nice to make your acquaintance,Kitty" He thinks about her question before answering "I can't say I do, but I can look into things and keep an ear out for information. The reward is too good to pass up but those parents must feel devistated. I couldnt even begin to imagine how they feel." a tinge of sadness and empathy in his tone. He looks down at the ground the mention of bigots reminding him of his past. "Yeah, you're probably right. Know any other place I could get a drink with folks like me?" "Mm. They are -- not doing well, no." Kitty is smiling, now, but it does not reach her eyes, her tone implying some high degree of confidence in her assessment. "There's a hotline, its on the news, if you do hear something. You probably won't. Every corner of this city's been turned over twice by now. If you're looking for drinking buddies --" Kitty lifts one shoulder, rocks back another step towards the Park. "Freaktown up in Riverdale won't turn any mutant away long as they don't start problems. Hudson Line will get you there from here. Take the 6 south, you'll end up near Evolve, the only mutant cafe in the city. Start one of those places, folks will point you to more places for us." Her hand dips to her pocket, hesitantly -- pulls out her wallet, pulls out a purple business card out of an inner pocket. KATHERINE PRYDE, ASTROPHYSICS it says, with PHD CANDIDATE in smaller font below. There are two emails there -- Kitty taps the Gmail address with the tip of her nail. "I don't have a lot of time to play tour guide, but you shoot me an email and I'll get you links to the essential services. Welcome to Freak New York."