View source for Logs:In Which Evolve Is Not a Particularly Helpful Source of Information, but Someone Still Gets a Big Tip

{{ Logs
| cast = [[Alexander]], [[Taylor]]
| summary = "Keep your head up. Just because times are tough doesn't mean they are over"
| gamedate = 2023-07-07
| gamedatename = 
| subtitle = 
| location = <NYC> [[Evolve Cafe]] - Lower East Side
| categories = Alexander, Taylor, Mutants, Evolve Cafe
| log = 
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.

It is a bustling Friday evening, and Evolve is getting fairly packed -- late-dinner crowd still busy, early-nightclub crowd already trickling in. Taylor is in neither of these camps -- the tall obsidian-skinned man is juuuuust about to get ''off'' shift. He's already shed his apron (beneath, the black tee shirt he wears almost blends ''in'' with his inky skin, save for the bold all-caps white text across his broad chest: 'WHITE LIVES MATTER TOO MUCH'.  He hasn't ''quite'' made it out from behind the counter, though, when another rush is tumbling through the door, and with a sympathetic wince towards his coworkers he lingers ''just'' a little longer, his many serpentine limbs uncoiling from behind him to writhe in a sinuous flex. It looks improbable to even ''move'' that many limbs in that many different directions at once, and yet, he ''seems'' to have no trouble prepping three separate coffees and a sandwich simultaneously, while he rings someone up at the counter.

Having been given a starting point to investigate the missing children. After finishing up his job he made his way over to the Cafe. 
Immediately after opening the door he felt incredibly uncomfortable, too many people in such a small area might cause for excessive contact, Something he dreaded. He carefully made his way over to the counter, focusing on not touching anyone. "Excuse me...Pardon me..."
Once at the counter he gave a sigh of relief, only to nearly fall out of his seat when he notices the tall, dark, and visibly different individuals. <<What the hell...>> Alexander thinks to himself. "Uh hey, excuse me..." This time verbally trying to catch the attention of the barista.

Taylor tips his chin up, a customer-service-bright smile on his face, the white of his teeth contrasting sharp with the jet-black of his lips. "Yo," one of his smaller tentacles is lifting in a wave. "First time here? The bánh mì is great if you're doing dinner."

"Uh.. actually I came here looking for some information. I was contacted, well actually I just happened meet them... but either they seemed to be concerned about some missing kids and I'm trying to get as much info as I can " He eyed Taylor, not in a suspicious way, but with some unease. Alexander hadn't had much contact with mutants outside a few interactions, let alone, one who didn't look human.

"Contacted? By wha- who?" Taylor is just a little distracted as he finishes up one last drink, finishes ringing up one last customer, and then, maybe, he's taking off for ''real''. He has a coffee of his own coiled into one slender tendril-arm as he slips out from behind the counter, looking over Alexander with a sizing-up kind of expression. "We fresh out of missing kids, man. Got coffee to spare. And with that cool four mil on the line, been a ''lot'' of folk asking 'round here. Trust, though, if I'd heard shit 'bout some kids, that information woulda got straight back to Ryan Black, like, ''yesterday''."

<<Shit, this must've been a dead lead. Now I gotta figure out where to go next>>. Alexander looks around the shop and then back at Taylor."For the time being, I'll the a coffee, black, please" Ryan Black rang a bell though. That was the guy on the news. "You mentioned Ryan Black, Like famous singer Ryan Black?"

"Yeah, his kid is one of the missing ones." Maybe not ''exactly'' the situation, but it's close enough. Taylor sounds a little more solemn when he delivers this news. "Brother of my boss here. It's a small community. But he offered a ''fat'' stack for any information so we've been getting a deluge of wackjobs -- uh, no offense, I'm sure you're great!" he backtracks hastily. "Just a lot of people 'round wherever they think freaks like to hang out, hoping for a payday. ''Wish'' someone could collect, 'least that'd mean Spencer's home safe."

"You know I won't lie, that reward is obviously helpful, and I could use those funds, but missing kids are far more important in my opinion  and no offense taken"
Alexander's eyes widen when the Spencer was mentioned. "Spencer, That's the kid that girl mentioned"
Alexander stands up from the stool. 
"Look , point me in the direction of some more folks and I'll search for more info. If I find anything I'll keep in touch. "

"Yeah -- I mean, like I said, small community. His bro owns the only mutant cafe in town -- his dad's goddamn ''Jackson Holland'' -- feel like Spence grew up knowing half the freaks in New York." Taylor's shoulders sag. "For all the good it's done finding him. You'd think with all our goddamn powers combined --" His head shakes, and he lifts his cup to his mouth, taking a long swallow of coffee. "I'onno what to tell you, though, man. You go up Freaktown way in the Bronx, ''errybody's'' on the hunt for these kids. S'pose if anyone's heard anything, someone might know it up there, but I wouldn't hold my breath. Honestly, as long as they've been missing --" His mouth sets grimly, and he does not finish the thought. "I really do hope you find something, though. Good luck, man."

Alexander places his hand on the counter. "Keep your head up. Just because times are tough doesn't mean they are over, I'll be around here and there. Maybe next them I'll even try that meal you suggested." When he opens his hand there's a twenty dollar bill on the counter. A clear thank you for his time and info.  Alexander doesn't say anything else and heads out the door, continuing his search.
}}