ArchivedLogs:Driven

Driven
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Melinda	2012-12-26 A chance meeting at Montagues goes better than previously
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 and but doesn't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. The afternoon is a quiet one, to be sure, with many people spending time with their families. The Christmas season and all. Not everyone, though, is home with their families - in the City That Never Sleeps, work doesn't just stop for the holidays. It is, perhaps, for that very reason that, once more, Iolaus is sitting in one of the chairs of Montagues, laptop out in front of him as he types at it, furiously. A cup of tea sits at one of the tables next to him, just a few drops remaining in the bottom. White teeth worry at bottom lip as he murmurs something to himself, scrolling back up in the document to revise yet another time. Melinda has slipped off her apron and refreshed her ponytail. She moves behind the barista counter despite her lack of 'on the clock' paraphernalia and whips herself up a grande mocha latte, with sprinkles. She wanders with her drink over to the sandwich counter and picks up something prepackaged before speaking with the person behind the register before finding a place to sit. She ends up near Iolaus before realizing it. Iolaus looks up as Melinda sits down, and he smiles at her and gives her a wave. "Fancy seeing you here." he says, a smile tugging at his lips. He rolls his neck first to one side then the other, cracking out the muscles there with a soft grunt. Then he shakes it, loosening it up and grins. "Too long staring down at my screen. I think my neck fell asleep." he jokes, with a warm smile. "How are you doing? Merry Christmas, and all." "Fancy? Well, I do work here." Melinda states as she looks at Iolaus, bewilderment fading into recognition and then tiredness. "Do you have pins and needles? Does the neck fall asleep in the same way as a foot or a hand?" She inhales and unwraps her turkey sandwich with bacon and settles it on her plate. "I'm okay, I guess. Busy time of year for me, but it's going okay. How about you?" "No. Because of the location of the nerves in your spine, your neck doesn't get paresthesias in the same way. I guess theoretically some kinds of parapalegics coul--" Iolaus cuts himself off, giving Melinda an embarrassed look. "Suffice it to say, no. Apparently, I am very distractible today." he says, with a wry smile. "Christmas is a good season for charities, so it's been a busy time for me as well. Lots of running around from presentation to presentation." "Oh, And how is that going? Your charity..." Melinda looks around briefly, checking for eavesdroppers, "...thing?" She waggles her brows and lifts her drink to her lips, sipping carefully then setting her glass down. She then picks up her sandwich and takes a bite, chewing it enough to get it into the corner of her mouth to speak, "or are you working on some other charity this season?" Iolaus glances around as well and gives a shrug. "It's going. Money is coming in, but, of course, not as much as I'd like. I've started gathering people together, and I've been looking at properties. Depending on where we select, we might be able to open as soon as the middle of the year." He shrugs and shakes his head. "Or never. It all depends on the money." He pauses, awkwardly, then chuckles. "Well, I hope your business has been less hectic than mine, at least. What have you been up to?" he asks, folding his laptop screen closed and turning slightly in his chair to face Melinda more fully. "Depends on what you call business," Melinda shrugs and nibbles on her sandwich a little. "The cafe has been closed the last two days, but I've basically spent all my free time at the shelter I work with. Things have been incredibly busy, what with Open Doors not being quite so open anymore." She inhales deeply and takes another nibbling bite. "What people we can't put up, we've been keeping warm in the soup kitchen until things settle out more. Half the staff is pushing for a mutants only shelter when the other half is afraid that is what we might be left with." "I heard there was some kind of disturbance over there." Iolaus says, looking curiously at the other woman. "Violence, of some sort? It was in one of the papers. The Voice, or something." he says, shrugging his shoulders. "Separate but equal never works unless its voluntary." he comments, dryly. He looks up and sighs. "Though, perhaps it is better than nothing at all." He pauses, running a hand through his hair. "Are there plans to make the mutant shelter come into itself, or is it merely being dangled out there as a possibility to get the staff to shut up about the restrictions?" "There was violence. It was almost a mob riot, but the cops showed up and dispersed the crowd before it got too bad." Melinda scrubs her fingers through the hair at the back of her head, not messing up her ponytail. "But... I don't know if it's separate but equal. I don't think that we're even considering that honestly. Some people just think we should turn away non-mutants on account of the fact that they could find places elsewhere." "Staff are seriously considering kicking non-mutants out of the Open Door shelter?" Iolaus says, looking surprised. "I thought the same staff just kicked /out/ all the mutants. That's a quite radical about-face in their decision making. Or..." he gives Melinda a long look, studying her face. "Is it, perhaps, the management thinking one way and the rank and file thinking another?" "No, I have no affiliation with Open Door," Melinda admits, lips pursing. "I work at another shelter and we're just faced with an influx of more mutant homeless than normal." She takes a large bite of her sandwich and chews thoughtfully. She washes it down with a little mocha cappuccino and sets down both the sandwich and the drink. "We're reacting to the change in homeless population due to what that other shelter did. "Ah." Iolaus says, nodding once. "Well, if the last bit has taught me anything, prepare to have many, many road blocks thrown in front of you. Make sure your donors are aware first, and make sure that you have all your i's dotted and your t's crossed." He chuckles, though there is little mirth in the sound. "I have lawyers drafting up documents and different lawyers checking them over, for fear that I miss one thing and the state tries to kill my applications on a technicality." "I..." Melinda blinks and shakes her head, "I think you're taking this conversation a lot more seriously than I... really have any sort of authority to speak about. I'm just a volunteer." She reaches down and takes up the sandwich and speaks before taking another bite. "I'm just saying what the staff is saying. It's just talk." She takes a big bite and chews and chews and chews. "Ah." Iolaus says. He settles back in his chair, falling silent for several moments as he studies her, carefully. "Why not?" he asks, suddenly breaking out of his silence. "Why don't you have the authority to speak about it? If it interests you - and it clearly does - why not get more involved in it? Volunteer or no, you can still take responsibility, and authority quickly follows." "Just because a person is interested in something doesn't mean they are automatically granted a promotion." Melinda finishes off her first sandwich half and wets her lips. "I'm doing stuff and staying active, but those really in charge of things are pretty entrenched." She shrugs and leans back in her chair with her drink, sipping at it and getting foam on her upper lip. She licks it away. "You must lead a charmed life." "A determined one." Iolaus says, with a friendly smile and a spread of his hands. "A driven one, even. I would not say a relaxing one - ever - but it is a good one nonetheless." he continues, looking over Melinda carefully. "Waiting for it is a sure way of never getting it. You don't ask; you /take/. Be so good they can't help but do what you want." "Thanks for the advice," Mel notes uncomfortably. "I don't think it's quite the right time to wrest control of the shelter. I'm just glad no one is talking about following suit with Open Doors yet." She tears her sandwich in half and nibbles on the bit in her left hand. "And I am good. I'm really good. I also worked all through Christmas this year and every holiday prior." "Good." Iolaus says, nodding and smiling. "Biding your time is fine, as long as you recognize it as so." He stretches out and opens his laptop once more. "Why not hope that someone does so with Open Doors? Perhaps the policy would be reversed and relieve some of the pressure on your shelter. After all, the more shelters that accept mutants, the harder it is to shut them all down." he points out. "I suppose, but I couldn't convince them to stop what they were doing last Thursday. They were arresting people on the street for protesting and dragging out residents with cops. It was horrible and if they backed down from their stance now..." Melinda looks over at Iolaus. "They never gave any indication that their decision to exclude people was brought on by anything other than their own cowardice. You'd think they'd have an iota of regret if it was forced upon them by donors or by city leaders." "And perhaps it wasn't. But if given the choice between /no/ shelter, and a shelter that refuses mutants..." Iolaus trails off, a small smile on his lips. "Which is the lesser of the evils?" he asks, glancing down at his screen. "But that is a struggle fought by those who want to help. The vast majority of people out there don't. Or actively are opposed to such." "Lesser of two evils? Discussions down that line are generally pretty - what's the word?" Mel considers, lifting the bread on one of her sandwiches and investigating the interior. "Grim." She replaces the bread and looks up at Iolaus. "I hope your struggles are fruitful." She returns her attention to her drink and leans back deeply in her chair. "Do you even have a social life?" "I hope so as well." Iolaus says, softly. A beat. "Social life? Never." Iolaus says, winking playfully. "Threw myself into school, then into grad school and medical school, then work." he shakes his head, chuckling. "Being the best, being driven... they take up a whole lot of time, and you have to make sacrifices." "Yeah, but what kind of life is that?" Melinda wrinkles her nose up, fingers running around the rim of the glass. "I get that you don't have to worry about it when you're just that busy, but you have to have slow nights? What do you when you do have free time and no one to talk to?" She exhales and raises an eyebrow at him. "Internet poker?" Iolaus laughs, shaking his head. "If I played internet poker, I'd shortly be a very broke doctor with no one to talk to." He says, smiling. "I read. I drink tea. I study. You are never done learning, that's one of the wonderful things about my profession. And I work." he chuckles. "Perhaps the easiest way to deal with getting bored in your free time is simply not to have any." "Yeah, I guess that your profession does require a person to stay on top of new things on account of constant, life saving progress." Melinda munches on her sandwich, moving most of the food into the corner of her mouth before adding, "I also don't need to tell you the medical downsides of no rest and the positive affects of social activities. We are social creatures." She finishes her bite and drinks. "Don't work yourself into an early grave before you train a couple proteges." Iolaus chuckles and winks at Melinda. "Don't worry. I plan on having several successors before I kick the bucket." he says, lacing his fingers on his lap and tapping at the table, curiously. "Have you ever thought of becoming a social worker?" he asks, suddenly, looking over the other woman. "You certainly have the personality for it, and, it seems, the interest too." "Oh, sure. I just... have to get my ducks in a row for a degree, if I have actually settled on that in the next few years." Melinda finishes her sandwich and nurses the last bits of her drink. "Just have to settle in myself the depressing nature of that job. I'm not exactly the kind that deals with bureaucracy very well and that job is all about the bureaucracy." "The schooling is, and then you have a couple years working as a licensed social worker... but once you get your independent certification, you can do pretty much whatever you want." Iolaus says, with a shrug. "I think you technically need some kind of supervising... psychiatrist, or psychologist, but that's very arm's length. I don't really know the mental health field as well as I should." he says, somewhat embarrassed. "It's practically impossible to be an expert at everything," Melinda points out, gesturing with her glass. "If you try too hard, you'll find yourself good for nothing but administration rather than hands on work." She pauses, "Unless that's what you're going for, you know, clinic of your own and all. Seems weird to have a speciality already and trying to expand away from that." Iolaus shrugs, half-heartedly. "It's God's work, so to speak. And it's right in line with my specialty, really. Who better to run a clinic for mutants than a geneticist?" he says, a smile on his face, despite his low tone. "I'll probably do a lot of the administration, but I know better than to be the CEO for long. Long enough to get it started, and then I'll step down and be the CMO." "I don't know, someone who does more nitty gritty basic first aid?" Melinda offers. "Seriously, most of the people I work with need their basic needs met, not necessarily to be put under a microscope to see how they work." She sips the last of her mocha and relaxes a little more into her chair. "But then again, I'm mostly focused on my specialty. There are probably families that can afford some medical care and are looking for more answers." "I'm not out to cure them of their mutations," Iolaus explains. "I'm out to help them when they get /sick/. I had a patient whose skin was as strong as steel come into the ER. They couldn't start any IVs on him!" he says, with a wince. "There are so many complications that can happen when people's bodies don't work the way most people's do. That's why you need specialists." he explains. "No one said anything about curing anyone of their mutation." Melinda looks at Iolaus funny. She looses the skepticism when he continues talking, her expression going bland. "Even the simplest mutations can cause immense complications. Let's say you have a mutation that makes, I don't know, your hair grow twice as fast as normal. That's a tiny thing, right?" Iolaus proposes. "Except, there are medications that can have side-effects about hair growth. If you take those drugs and have that mutation, who knows what will happen!" He shrugs his shoulders. "You need to have doctors who can /help/ you point out the things you don't even know could be a problem." "Oh good lord," Melinda rolls her eyes. "Another know everything doctor. At best, you can /guess/ that one will affect the other and toss out statistics and warnings." She gathers up her plate and empty glass. "Yeah, you're better at guessing due to the learning you've done, but you're still guessing." She inhales and presses her lips together. "You have a good afternoon. I need to get back to work." "My dear, I'll let you in on a little trade secret: all science is just educated guessing." Iolaus says, with a wink. He nods to her, and opens his laptop screen fully. "It was good to talk to you again... Melinda, wasn't it?" "Yes, Melinda." She bobs her head a little and turns away, taking her dishes and those left by the trash to the kitchen to be washed. Iolaus looks back at the woman as she leaves, giving her a nod and a little wave with one hand. "Bye! Good to talk to you again." With that, he turns back to his screen and revising his notes.