Difference between revisions of "Logs:And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God."

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Latest revision as of 14:22, 10 November 2019

And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour, it is the gift of God.
Dramatis Personae

Leo, Sarah

2019-11-07


"Happiness and making money don't really go hand in hand."

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.

The weather outside isn't frightful, but it is chilly and suddenly rainy and overall pretty gross. To contrast, Evolve cafe also doesn't have a delightful fire, but it is warm and bright and somewhat crowded with people looking for shelter from the weather. Sarah is one of those people, settled into the corner of one of the couches in the back of the cafe.

She's dressed to fight the weather in a soft pink sweatshirt that has 'Be Nice or Leave' in swirly font surrounded by roses on the front, and black jeans with oversized dandelion puffs drawn in bleach pen around the calves. Her usual purple combat boots are on the floor under her, her legs crisscrossed in her seat. The rest of her leans forward, arms crossed on the table, chin resting on top of them while she focuses on a battered black laptop. (The back of it, unsurprisingly, is covered in a wealth of colorful stickers that look like they came from quarter machines.) There's a cup of cocoa still cooling closeby, along with a small notebook with a few notes in almost childish writing.

In stark contrast to the usual put-together and dapper outfits he's been in the past months, Leo looks bedraggled as he enters the warmth of the cafe. His jeans are sodden, his thin sweater probably adequate before the rain started but doing nothing but ensuring the cold clings to him now that it's drenched. His damp hair is both mussed and flattened -- thanks, likely, to the matte mint green bike helmet that's clipped to the messenger bag he has slung over his shoulder. He stops by the counter to get himself cocoa of his own together with a bowl of soup, and though at first he starts taking these off to a table by himself he hesitates then -- pauses a while -- bites his lip. Detours towards he back, shifting slightly from one foot to the other while he nods to the far corner of Sarah's couch. "Hello." His voice is quiet -- the intermittent chattering of his teeth almost louder than his words. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Sarah looks up curiously at the greeting, her expression quickly changing to concern as she takes Leo's state in. "Oh! Hi, no. Go for it, I don't mind," she tells him, looking around for a moment as if a blanket or towel might suddenly appear. Finally she just pulls a very large black hoodie from where it was stuffed between her and the arm of the couch, offering it to Leo. "Here, you can use this to dry off. Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine." Leo sets his drink and soup down first, then unhooks his bag from his shoulder to let it drop to the floor. His sweater is next; the deep blue polo beneath rides up as he tugs it off and he smooths it fussily down into some semblance of neatness afterwards. Folds the sweater in half to drape it over the arm of the sofa as he perches himself on its edge. "I just didn't expect to be out as late as I was. I thought I'd beat the rain home and -- well." His head dips, a very slight darker tinge to his cheek as he gestures to himself. "Obviously that was poor judgment. Are you, um, sure?" He reaches his hand out toward the hoodie, but only very tentatively. "I don't want to get your stuff wet. It's cold out."

"Go ahead, I'll be fine." Sarah holds the hoodie out a bit farther with a small smile. "You might get sick or something if you don't dry off, you know?" She's never been sure if that was an old wive's tale or not, but better safe than sorry. "And it's hard to get warm in wet clothes, trust me. How have you been?"

"Thank you." Leo is still a bit hesitant, but takes the hoodie, pressing the soft dry fabric to his damp chilled skin before hugging it to his chest. "I'm --" He pauses, his brows slowly knitting in thought. When he finally comes back with, "I'm good," it sounds like the answer surprises him. "New York is -- I think it's growing on me. How about you?"

Sarah's smile grows at Leo's surprise. "New York seems to have a way of doing that," she nods, reaching for her cup of cocoa, blowing across the top of it once it's close enough. "I'm glad you're settling in. I've just been, you know. Working." This is said with a bored shrug. "Trying to figure out what to do." She takes a cautious sip from her cup, a pleased sound escaping her after.

"I didn't really expect to. I wouldn't have chosen it. It was so overwhelming at first, and --" Leo shakes his head slowly. His arms tighten against the sweatshirt. "What do you want to do? You seem good at the -- the art. Thing. Do you like that?"

She thinks about Leo's reaction to her showing up on the Lofts rooftop. "It can be overwhelming too, yeah. But it seems like you've adjusted pretty well." Sarah offers him another, softer smile. "Thanks for coming to sit with me." Taking another sip of her cocoa, it's her turn to look thoughtful while she considers Leo's question. "I can't imagine not drawing," she slowly answers after a moment. "My first real memory is me drawing something. But making it into a career..." She says the word career as if it's from an alien language. "I like to draw because it makes me happy. And it makes other people happy sometimes, too. Happiness and making money don't really go hand in hand."

"I'm trying. To adjust. I have dogs now," Leo tells Sarah earnestly. "I -- well, they aren't my dogs. I walk dogs. But they're good dogs. That helps. The money helps, too." He unclenches his arms -- his shivering has calmed, now. He reaches for his soup, cupping his long fingers around it and holding it up beneath his chin as it steams. "I guess you might start hating it, then. What kind of jobs can give you time to still draw?"

"Dogs are great helpers. So's money, but dogs are so much better. Do you have any pictures of them?" Sarah sets her cup down and gestures toward her laptop, which is still open to what appear to be job listings. "I'm looking for a second real job right now at a bakery. I have some experience there. Sometimes I think having my own bakery might be nice, but that doesn't exactly leave you with a lot of free time either, I guess? Also it kinda feels like opening a Starbucks or something. New York already has, like, a million bakeries."

Leo nods, quick and eager. He wriggles a cellphone out of his pocket, setting his soup in his lap as he unlocks it. "No," his expression has gone just a little bit distant. "You don't have a lot of free time at a bakery at all." He opens his camera app, scrolling through the gallery. "You don't need to open a bakery to do baking, though. Jackson sells his desserts here. Local coffeeshops and groceries often buy from independent bakers. I'm sure you still need a kitchen that passes health code inspection, though. Here," he's adding this with no pause, tipping the screen towards Sarah to show a tiny beagle puppy staring dubiously at a flight of stairs, "this is Biscuit, she isn't good at legs yet. And here," an enormous bloodhound snuffling at the head of a much smaller scruffy wire-haired mutt, "are Chance and Mita, they are very good friends. There's more. You can scroll."

"That's true. Maybe I should talk to Jax about how he goes about doing that. Thanks, Leo." Any talk of jobs leaves Sarah's mind with a gasp as Leo shows her the picture of Biscuit. The one of Chance and Mita has her hands rising to cup her own cheeks around a smile. "What sweet babies! They're so cute!" She unpeels a hand from her face to take the phone, scrolling through with growing delight, taking mental pictures to draw later. "I love them. Please tell them I love them the next time you take them for a walk? Has Biscuit started baying yet?"

"She bays at -- not always helpful things but she's trying her best." Leo settles back with his soup, finally tucking in hungrily. "The dogs are really wonderful. Trying to keep the schedules straight and dealing with the humans is a little more exhausting." He tilts his head thoughtfully to one side, looking at Sarah for a moment. "The actual time commitment isn't terrible, though. I bet you could take care of pets and still have time for drawing."

"Really?" Sarah asks as she hands the phone back, excited by the prospect. "I do really love dogs. I have a cat at home and he is my spoiled baby, but there are not exactly cat parks I can bring him to. Is there an Uber for dogwalkers or something?" She picks up her notebook and pencil to scrawl two hurried notes - 'independent baking - Jax' and 'dog walker'. Tiny doodles of cupcakes and pawprints quickly go beside them.

"There is one. I've been using it but it's, kind of awful. I don't know if I can just -- start asking my clients once they know me better. If they want to just be clients... off the app." Leo stirs at his soup, flicking a thoughtful glance to Sarah. "I bet working with other people you could do -- better than the app, too."

Sarah leans forward to pull her laptop a bit closer to type something in the search bar. "Thank you. I think that really depends on how the other people act, though." After a few clicks, she turns the laptop toward Leo and points at the screen, where 'Petsitter.com' is pulled up. "Have you used this any? It says they have dog walking too. Maybe you could use this along with the app? I wouldn't want to lose a client as cute as Biscuit, either."

It's her turn to glance thoughtfully at Leo. "Could you send me the picture of Biscuit looking at the steps, if it's no trouble? It would be a cute drawing."

Leo glances up quickly -- just as quickly, back down. "No, I -- um." His brows furrow, his shoulders tightening slightly. He takes a hasty mouthful of his soup, his fingers tight around the handle of his spoon. "There's a lot of places that, um. It's hard for me to -- to get hired. I had some help figuring out the hoops for this but a lot of the sites --" His shrug is quick, and a little jerky. He eases back into a small smile at the question, unlocking his phone again but then pausing with a slight widening of his eyes. "I don't -- have your number or anything."

"Oh, okay." Only blinking, Sarah turns her laptop back toward herself. "I'll let you know if I find anything that can let you work around that, if you'd like?" She grabs her notebook again, turning to a fresh page to scribble a number under it. "I mean, I hope you don't have my number," she answers with a cheerful smile, tearing the page out to hand it over. "I haven't given it to you yet."

"Right, no. Of course." Leo's cheeks darken as he takes the paper, entering the number quickly into his phone. A text comes through shortly after, with the picture attached. "It kind of sounds like if you do find any flexible work situations, maybe you should be taking them."

"Thanks." The grin Sarah shoots down at her phone fades some, a slow shrug rolling her shoulders. "Maybe?" she says hesitantly, awkward. "But I can... use those websites. And finding work when you aren't supposed to be working or whatever is..." She shrugs again. "I don't mind passing info on if I see something. If it helps."

Leo's blush spreads further. He settles back into the couch, offering Sarah's now-damp sweatshirt back with an apologetic look. "Thanks." His voice is quiet, his attention dropping back to his soup with a great deal more investment than before. "And I hope you find something that works for you, too."