ArchivedLogs:All-Nighter

All-Nighter
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Rictor	2015-06-25 "I shouldn't assume of things, of course." (Part of Buzzkill TP.)
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 plentiful 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. Things are busier around here as evening wears on into night -- caffeine may have lost its kick but /booze/ certainly hasn't, yet, and there's a dull thump-thump-thump coming from the nightclub upstairs. The patrons coming through en route to the stairway leading up are more colourfully dressed than the daytime crowd -- many of them, anyway. As clothing goes Dusk is still fairly nondescript, in plain black cargo shorts, Vans sneakers, a blue and grey wrap shirt, though his wings still are coloured brilliantly in rippling watery blue. He doesn't seem club-bound, distracted at the moment with his laptop where he's tucked himself into a corner table where he can at least /watch/ the trickle of people heading up to dance. There is yet again a bright (also blue!) metal dragonfly perched on his table, though at the moment today no holograms. Just laptop, a small frown on his face, a thermos at one elbow, and a half-melted bowl of sorbet heavily laden with popping boba. The noise from the upstairs club is a cue that this might not be the best to come, laptop and work in tow, on evenings nearing the weekend. Still, Rictor has remained resolute in his choice of workplace and can actually be seen bobbing his head to the beat as he waits at the counter for his drink. When the iced tea is ready, he takes it and makes a move toward Dusk's side of the room. He spotted the familiar-looking mutant on entry and decides it's as good a night as any to be social. "Some party upstairs, huh?" Rictor asks, sliding onto a seat at a neighboring table. "It's a shame things seem less so in here these days." As he makes these idle comments, he sets his tea down and readies his laptop. "Kinda always is on the weekend," Dusk answers with a sharp quick grin, that comes reflexively before he actually looks /up/ to see who is addressing him. "Oh. Hey. We met?" He sounds just a little uncertain. "The whole city's kinda losing its -- /party/, lately. Turning into the city that -- sleeps a hell of a lot. We're going to need to rebrand." Rictor chuckles a bit at Dusk's mention of "rebranding," but simply shrugs it off. "We didn't meet, actually. Not officially at least. I remember you, though. You had a pretty nifty hologram going on there and were, well, involved I suppose with a bunch of other people. The tech impressed me, though. I'm glad to have run into you again." "Ohhh. That. Yeah, I --" Dusk gestures to the dragonfly, signing something at it. The air above his table flickers to life, shifting the display of his laptop to project it outward instead. A smaller version of the same map as before, though it isn't in focus; what is is a terminal window with a lot of colour-coded lines of code and a browser opened to the latest xkcd. "It's Stark tech -- well, the holo-projector is. Just not actually on the market yet. Kind of convenient for -- a lot of things, actually. My housemate is an architect, he's sort of in love with tangible holographic modelling." He leans out over the table, stretching out a hand in offer of handshake. "I'm Dusk. By the way." Rictor eyes the dragonfly curiously, leaning over to take a gander at the code as it washes over the digital landscape. "Stark tech is it? How did you get your hands on it?" This is mumbled as if to himself, but is still audible enough. At the introduction, reaches out and looks up at Dusk, shaking the other man's hand. "I'm Julio. Your name sounds very familiar. I think we have mutual friends," he says, lowering his hand. "The invisible boy and a blond guy have both mentioned friends with your name. I imagine there aren't many people named Dusk." Dusk's grin stretches brighter. "This community's tiny as hell. Even in New York there's not /that/ many of us so. Feel like you hang out here enough, you get to know freaking /everyone/." His eyes shift back to the projected imagery. "Got a friend who I'm -- working on this project with, she works for Stark. Actually, you mentioned knowing Jack from school, right? We probably have a crap-ton of mutual friends, then. She just graduated there. She's -- pretty brilliant. Was the valedictorian this past year." Dusk's handshake is firm; he drops his hand back to the table afterwards, one long thumbclaw atop his wing gesturing towards the dragonfly. "These bots are her make. Been using them as drones to help me keep the boundaries of our map updated." He glances back to Rictor, watching the other man as he looks over the code. "What's it you do out there? /Professional/ nerdery?" Rictor nods at the appropriate spots as Dusk speaks, genuinely interested in the given and possible social connections between the two. It is indeed a small world. "Yes, I studied there when I was younger, but have been out of the country for some time. My feet are still getting wet, so I've met few people at the school." He speaks in a heavy, Latin accent and reaches out for a sip of his tea before continuing. "I /am/ a professional nerd, yes. I don't have any projects beyond preparing my classes at the moment, but am always looking for something to do. How is your mapping coming along, by the way?" "Out of the country? Where at?" There's genuine curiosity in Dusk's voice, too. "The mapping part is excellent. Calculations I'm trying to get it to run -- coming slower. Trying to get it to give me a running approximation of where the center of all this is, as it shifts and changes -- I've picked up definite trends but with it never being static or remotely even it's kind of a pain. But I figure --" One wing hitches upward. "Find its center, maybe we can find whose behind it. I mean, for all I /joke/ about wanting to bite them and see if caffeine comes out, like. Who knows, y'know? It could just be some kid who can't control it -- or doesn't even know they're /doing/ it -- I want to find them before anyone /actually/ angry does. Or the gorram FBI does. They don't exactly have a lot of love for us, either." "I was studying in Spain," Rictor answers quickly, most of attention and interest clearly being on the bit of technology between himself and Dusk. He watches it for a moment and then looks up at Dusk and nods. "Of course. This government has handled things mostly very poorly. It's very important that someone find the source of this before they get involved." Very unfortunate words, but then again everyone knows that already. "You know, I did a lot of work in predictive analytics in school. I would be happy to lend a hand if you'd like." "{No shit?}" In Spanish, this time, Dusk's brows lifting. "{I'd be /so/ damn grateful for another brain on this you have no idea. I've been working and working and mine is chock-full of headache.}" Another few gestures at the dragonfly clones his display; he reaches to grab the terminal out of the air, tossing it -- kind of literally -- over towards Rictor's table instead to hover there. "You see what you can see, {maybe I'll get out of this quagmire.}" "Quagmire?" Rictor responds in Spanish of the Mexican style, if Dusk is able to differentiate such things. "You really are fluent, aren't you? I'm impressed." Rictor's hand is poised next to his tech to stop the tossed piece of equipment from colliding, but thankfully it's a smooth enough transfer for it not to be needed. He takes a look at what's given to him a moment and then moves to his own device, fingers rattling across the keyboard as he searches for something. "You know, this is the sort of puzzle I remember from one of my courses not too long ago. AI was a specialty of mine and something may apply here. How much time do you have?" He pauses at the keyboard, looks up at Dusk, and grins. "{Puerto Rican,}" Dusk replies lightly. "English is actually my third language. {So I'd kind of hope, fluent.} -- Oh /man/ I should introduce you to B. Makes the bots. She's heavy into AI. {Probably get lost for ages geeking out with you.} That stuff's not so much my specialty. I'm usually just good at taking all the really cool problems she works on and turning them into --" He gestures at the map. "{Something functional.}" His head turns, eyes flicking to Rictor and then back to the code. "{I got all night.}" Rictor slaps his head and gives it a shake. "I shouldn't assume of things, of course," he rattles off in Spanish. "I couldn't tell, though. What other languages do you speak?" As he asks this, his gaze focuses on his computer as he shuffles through files of saved algorithms and the like, looking for something he could put to use here. "I'm happy to hear that," he adds. "If we're going to solve this problem, we'll need the whole night." "Most people don't guess. Maybe it's the vampire thing." Dusk's smile is quick and fangy. "I don't think anyone's thinking much by way of my race past oh-god-vampire-bat." His hands lift again, this time signing along while he speaks: "{I signed before I spoke. So in ASL and Spanish I'm pretty native.} I'm not half bad in Thai and Vietnamese now -- but that's more to do with adopted family than birth. -- {How about you? Feel like your accent says you come by it naturally, too.}" His wings stretch out behind him, rippling slightly before he stands. "{Whole night sounds like we're going to need some more substantial snacks. I can grab you something while I'm up?}" "I'm Mexican," Rictor responds as he continues to plunder the resources at his disposal. "I picked up French and German while in Europe, but mostly spoke in English as people tend to do when you're around so many different cultures." He pauses a moment to look up at Dusk and the impressive wings, which admittedly where the first things to draw his eye. "Yes, please. I hear the cupcakes are great. Sugar if not caffeine, right?" "The cupcakes are divine. And if I forgot to mention, thanks for the help. /I'm/ glad I ran into you again." One of those colourful wings folds out, brushing lightly against Rictor's shoulder as Dusk passes, heading off for the counter. "Gotta keep some pleasures in life. I'll make sure we have more than enough rush for an all-nighter."