ArchivedLogs:Business and Family

Business and Family
Dramatis Personae Melinda, Shane	2013-05-04 '
Location <NYC> Montagues - SoHo
Montagues harkens back to the day when SoHo was filled to the brim with artists, with its mismatched furniture, all plush and decorated heavily with carved wood, but remains trendy enough to keep its newer patrons by making sure that furniture is clean, in good repair and inviting. The antique tables all have been reinforced to seem less creaky. The real draw of the cafe is the smell: fresh roasted coffee mingles with perfectly steeped teas. Spices from crisp pastries mingle with the tang of clotted cream but don't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. Early, early, EARLY Saturday morning, Melinda has opted to come in for a shift. She swapped out her weekends off for a Sunday Monday schedule when she learned that Shane was coming back to the store. Why? It's entirely possibly she likes working with the young man, plus, it's best to have a friendly face in the store when one is returning from a long time away. Since spring and summer are finally making their way through New York City, there is actually a little bit of like at five am when the employees begin to arrive, one or two huddle in the crisp morning air by the door waiting on the manager to come and unlock the door. Melinda arrives with a big fluffy cotton sweater on, one that looks like it was knit extra small by a giant, so the threads and knits are large and unyielding to the shape of her body. It is mustard yellow and the sleeves of her white button down stick out around the cuffs. She pulls the keys from a small bag and greets everyone quietly (as they are all caffeine addict who haven't likely had their brew yet), then opens the door. Shane is arriving at an earlyearlyearly morning hour, to. Not at the line out front, though, though with his senses it's entirely possible he has smelled Melinda arriving at the front door /anyway/. The small blue teenager is tucked by the side door into the alley, absently playing on his phone, swiping blocks side to side to try and clear a path for one marked in red to be able to get out the slot. But shortly after Melinda arrives he is knockknockknocking, quiet on the side door. He's in dark jeans, a black button-down, a trim black corduroy jacket worn over top. Knock? Knockknock? Once Melinda has released the baristas into their natural habitat, she makes her way into the back, flicking on lights and turning on some of the stoves before heading to the back door, pausing to hear the gentle knocking. She spins the large deadbolt and opens the door, peeking out to spy the young blue mutant. "SHANE." She may be excited to see him, if the large grin on her lips is any indication. Shane's smile is quick, broad-bright and toothy-sharp. Not that it would do to show /too/ much excitement so his saunter closer is Totally Casual, one arm hooked up and around for quick-loose back-pat of hug. "Yo." The grin skews a little lopsided as he asks: "Missed me?" "Miss you?" While Shane may have intended a quick hug, Melinda's arms wrap around the shorter teen and draw him into a longer one, not letting go until her arms have given him a good squeeze. "Oh good fuck, Hive made it sound like I personally drove you away last week." She draws in a deep breath and releases him, stepping back to look him over. "and over the phone - well, I don't know, it's not the same. But you're here. That's tremendous. How are you?" "Nope, you personally drove /Bastian/ away," Shane is SO REASSURING, "I just went along with him cuz. Bastian. How can I not? But uh," His smile is briiighter for a moment, "he and Shelby pretty much made up. There was cock involved. I'm --" His head turns back, eyes searching the narrow slice of sky in the alley like it has the answer to this. "-- Broke as fuck, uh, thanks for letting me still have my job. How're you?" "Oh. Thanks." Melinda actually rolls her eyes at the part of the tale where she ruined everyone's party. She shakes her head and sighs. "Yeah, I know. Terrible timing. By trying to avoid a huge explosion, I created a little one that... well, I'm glad it wasn't the end of the world." She purses her lips and heads back toward the little accounting office. It is small and cramped, but with just enough space to allow someone to count their register drawer. "Hey, I've got your last paycheck here. It's not much, but I had no idea where to send it, so I just held onto it for you." "It's high school, /everything's/ the end of the world." Shane follows Melinda in, lingering in the doorway of the office with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. "It's just, high school, so. The end of the world doesn't last all that long." His smile returns at the mention of paycheck. "Hey, thanks. I think it's just shitty service that the post office doesn't deliver to the middle of the bay. It's still New York!" "I think there's something to be said about how paper doesn't do that well in water." Melinda hands over the envelope that she has been holding onto. The check is the usual, but a little sparse, on account of Shane missing one day that week. And the subsequent few weeks. "You going to remember to give me a call or a text next time you have to disappear, right? I understand the need - end of the world and all - but it's easier to cover your shifts and keep your coworkers happy if I have some advanced warning." "Sorry," Shane takes the check, glancing at it and then putting it back into the envelope and tucking it into an inside pocket of his jacket. "I didn't expect to disappear. And then, uh," he admits this a little more awkwardly, clawed fingers tracing through the spiky-hard mess of his hair, "I didn't expect to come back." "I get it." Melinda admits. "I just like having you here. But, because this is a business, not a family, I can't just - Well, I'm sure you understand. Just send out a message whether you expect to come back or not. Something like 'going to be out' or 'cancel shifts' and I'll figure something out until you get back, if you come back, okay?" Mel reaches out to ruffle that dark hair as well, doing her best to ask for information without chiding. "Now. How about that sandwich prep? Wanna show me what you got?" Shane nods, shucking off his jacket to hang it on the back of the door. "I got the mad sandwich /skills/, you have no idea." Though she soon will. Because he is heading out of the office to go /show her/. His smile is a little wry as he heads away. "Glad /someone/ likes having me here," he's possibly glancing over towards one of the other baristas who has never managed to be quite /comfortable/ with the sharky blue teen, although the distance in his tone suggests he's not actually talking about the immediate work environment, "it's pretty much been nothing but telling me how much I fucking suck since I got back." "How do you suck, Shane? You were looking after your brother, who needed you. Fuck society and it's stupid bullshit rules for how things have to be done." Melinda goes on a slightly anti-establishment tirade. "Oy, Molly, make me something to open my eyes, I'm getting cranky here." If that barista isn't comfortable with Shane, Mel will keep her busy. "You want anything? Look I'm griping, but really, most of us are trapped in the way we do things because we like what we get out of it. Living in the city can be nice, but if it's not for you, I don't blame you for getting out of it." She shrugs. "It's a conscious decision you get to make." "Because I'm childish and immature, animalistic and still living in a cage," Shane rattles this off bland and dry and with the rote non-inflection of repeating what he's been told. He washes his hands thoroughly, water steaming as he lathers soap up well and rinses it off. He grabs a paper towel to dry them, tossing it to begin getting out sandwich ingredients to cut and prep. "I mean, it's probably right. I don't actually really /belong/ here." He doesn't sound upset as he says this, just idly musing. "Even /if/ I make great sandwiches. Uh. I could use about a metric ton of caffeine, I didn't actually sleep last night." "You'll figure out a balance, Shane, between where your heart and body belong. And for fuck's sake, you're sixteen. Are you really supposed to be immature." Someone finally gives Melinda a strange look for swearing and she blushes. "Make me an egg salad sandwich with just a little bit of ham, and I'll make you a large coffee with four shots of espresso. Do you want milk or flavors?" "Soy? No flavours though. Wait no. Maybe raspberry." Shane's nostrils flare as he shaves off a thin slice of ham. Mmm, ham. He shrugs, slipping bread into the toaster oven. "Don't know if I'm supposed to be mature but I'm probably supposed to be /human/. Pretty shitty at that, though. But Pa would be sad if we moved back to the ocean so --" He shrugs again, and watches the bread as if this will make the process faster. "Not really all that keen on going back to school, though. I mean, shit, if I wanted people to tell me what an out of control animal I am I'd just walk out the fucking /door/, you know?" It is unlikely anyone bats an eye at Shane's swearing but at least there are no customers yet. "Shane, you're sixteen. No sixteen year old is a perfect human either. The only think that keeps most teenagers in check is the idea that they can't fend for themselves, they can't take care of themselves, and they're too scared to try other things." Mel actually relays the order to Molly as she wishes to continue talking with Shane. "But you're not that strange. I see kids your age all the time in the shelter. They've been pushed too far, usually, and find that the street is better for them than what they left behind. They find out that they are actually strong enough to take care of themselves and can figure some shit out on their own. They're the type that are basically in your shoes. Once you get a taste for that freedom, it's actually hard to go back." "Go back to what," Shane is saying, not so much a question as a kind of amused reflection. He shrugs, though, dismissing whatever thought he was reflecting on to say instead: "I'm not planning on taking off again. Just -- school is just /stupid/. I mean, not in general. But for /me/. Bastian gets perfect grades, you think that's going to help him get into college? Get a /job/?" He snorts, head shaking. "If he manages to scrape together work it'll be because of people like you and have shitall to do with how /smart/ he is or how well he did in bio. I don't need to go listen to some asshole teacher telling me what an animal I am for the sake of getting me exactly zero added chance of getting anywhere in life." He steps forward to retrieve the toasted bread, setting it down on the prep surface to start loading it up with filling. "Wait a minute. What?" Melinda braces her hands on the table Shane is working on, studying him with narrowed eyes. "I thought ... well, I guess I was thinking that your friends were being pissy because you took off and other kids were being assholes to you because they're assholes, but what is this about your /teacher/?" She is not happy. "What is this teacher's name? I will write them a letter, and then I'll write your headmaster a letter - and if all that letter writing does nothing, I will drive out to that school of yours and I will give each of them a peace of my mind." Shane shrugs, laying the ham neatly atop a slice of bread thinly spread with mayo. "I mean, she's not /wrong/. I was an asshole to one of her students. She was an asshole to me. -- Well, she /is/ wrong but probably not, mmmn." His head shakes. "Is /right/ but probably not how she thinks. Kinda made me realize how much I don't belong there, though. The whole thing is pretty much a farce. I could graduate with a 4.0, have the best fucking manners on earth and I'll still /be/ an animal. It's not like the world's going to ever see anything /else/." "So you're saying that this school, where you are not one of the minority, not essentially a freak by definition, is not creating a type of community for you to live in in a welcome fashion?" Melinda asks, quietly. "I mean, if they are not creating community where your skills ... at fucking making sandwiches or fishing are not appreciated, then, yeah, the school is a farce. But if they are teaching you things that you can use in a community of mutants, in a rural or an urban setting, where you can provide for yourself in some way and help others with what you've learned, then maybe it's got worth." She exhales and looks over her shoulder to find a plate and slide it across the table to Shane. "You can drop out of school at your age, get emancipated from the system, live in the bay, show up to work for your shift, so you can have cash for things like cigarettes and clothes. Let Bastian have his dream, learn because he likes to learn, and you, be yourself. Be practical. You'll have a job here as long as I am manager, okay?" "A community of mutants is as much a community of assholes as anywhere else," Shane says, a little wryly. "But, mmm, I'm saying that -- I don't know. For the kids who /can/ blend in if they try then, uh, yeah, it's great to have a place that can teach them how to make a life. But c'/mon/ what the fuck good is a high school diploma going to do people like me and Bastian? I mean." His eyes lower to the sandwich. He closes it carefully, setting it neatly on a plate. "He should have his dream. But the law says I can leave school now. I'm not looking for emancipation. I /love/ Jax. He'd probably think it meant he'd failed, y'know? But I'll be more help to him working and it's not like it'll change my /future/ one way or another." He garnishes the plate with a pickle wedge, and his smile is quick and crooked; it's not really a /happy/ thing but it's trying hard to be. He offers the plate to Melinda with a wryly teasing, "... you'd better stay manager here for a long time." "What Bastian learns can be of value, even if the piece of paper isn't. Besides, there are a lot of schools that do extensive online classes these days. Perhaps he can continue to learn without setting foot in a university. Then you'll have doctors like Iolaus that can take him on in their mutant clinics and he'll be able to help people." Melinda smiles and moves around the table to wrap an arm around Shane's shoulders. "But people like you and me? We get high school diplomas because they tell us we need to. We make this world turn with coffee and sandwiches. We're crucial even if overlooked. I'll stay manager here until I can take you with me to a better restaurant or ... fuck, I don't know. We do need to be better paid, you do know that. We're amazing at what we do, and we practically give it away." Shane doesn't exactly answer this, just leans into the hug, pressing his face for a moment against Melinda's shirt. His hand grips the sandwich plate tightly, and his eyes close. He is very much going to pretend there is no dampness there even if it's trickled into her shirt as he leans. "You definitely need to be better paid," he says, his smile crooked and his shoulders a little shaky beneath Melinda's arm. For a long moment he lingers. Then pulls back TOTALLY not with a sniff nope. "I should finish the --" He gestures to the line of FoodToPrep. "Before people -- come --" He presses the sandwich plate into Melinda's hand and blinks again before scurrying back to work. "Okay, Shane. I'll go check on our coffee." Melinda moves back around the table to go to the front carrying her plate with her. She leaves her plate at the table she's claiming today and picks up their drinks. She takes Shane's back to him and leaves it on his table, allowing him to keep working, before heading back to the office to grab papers to go through and heads back out to the dining room.