ArchivedLogs:Hush Hush Business

Hush Hush Business
Dramatis Personae Blink, Mercy	2018-01-05 Don't Panic! It will pass soon.
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. New York City has seen better days. Such as the ones in the summer. Unfortunately, it is no longer summer. Snow has been piled between the sidewalks and the slush-filled roads, both consisting of a mix of sand and ice, slowly melting, underfoot. Inside Evolve, the warm atmosphere has attracted those customers brave enough to trek through the wintry mix and frigid temperatures. At around 6:30 in the evening, some patrons are starting to head upstairs as a band settles in, tuning their instruments and rehearsing a few brief snippets. Others remain downstairs, chatting to friends or sitting along as they enjoy a warm drink or very decent sandwiches. However, the general ambience seems slightly more subdued than usual. Mercy, back straight and eyes resting closed with fingers on her temples, sits in one of the corduroy armchairs in the back of the cafe. Her clothing is not sparse, though she has shed some layers. Most of it looks like it may have been thrifted or passed down second-hand. Her hair has been arranged in a braid that wraps around the top of her head. With a quiet sigh, she opens her eyes and rolls her neck, her two pairs of arms stretching in front of her. She picks up a flip-phone off the table in front of her and eyes it, perhaps waiting for a notification. - (Blink --> Mercy): I'm on my way! Blink's text message beats her to Evolve by only a few seconds. A spark of purple light ignites in a clear space near the counter, growing into an oval portal taller than it is wide and drawing a few curious looks, though the staff and the known regulars don't seem alarmed. A figure in a heavy black cloak with wide purple and pink brocade trim and a generous hood thrown back to expose elfin ears and huge green eyes hops through. She hands a tall pink thermos to the barista with a few quiet words and a smile, slipping her a ten before looking up and around the cafe. She pulls a phone out from a purse hanging at her side (it matches her cloak) and starts swiping on its screen, but then stops when she spots Mercy and makes her way over. "Hey!" She waves, tucking her phone away. "I'm Blink. How are you doing?" Despite her apparent ease at the cafe, Mercy is not one of Evolve's regulars. The appearance of the portal draws her attention and her eyebrows raise slightly as she watches Blink exit from the other side. The four-armed mutant purses her lips as she she surreptitiously watches the exchange between the newcomer and the barista. When the courier approaches her with a friendly greeting, the young woman stands up, two hands going into her pockets. "Mercy. A pleasure. You seem to be very good at keeping to your word." This is said with a soft scoff of amusement. "I am surviving, and yourself?" Her words, accompanied by a small smile, contain a tone of jest. "Would you like to sit down?" Mercy gestures towards an empty seat near her own. "Gracias! I do like to be punctual, though maybe I should text a little more ahead of when I jump, huh?" Blink's smile is shy but reaches all the way to her uncanny eyes. She unhooks the clasp of her cloak, drapes it over the back of the chair, and sits down. Her dress underneath is icy blue with violet edging, a fusion of Ming Chinese and medieval English garb, the skirts ending at the knees with loose matching trousers underneath. "Oh, me too -- you know, surviving. The weather sure has been nasty! I feel a bit guilty that I don't need to be out in it all day like my coworkers." Her smile curves up sharper. "Just a little bit." It's not very noticeable at first, but the noise level in the cafe drops. When Ravenna calls out Blink's name, her thermos ready and flanked by two cupcakes, she sounds muted, far away. "Oh, crap," Blink says, though the words are barely audible now. And then the cafe goes completely silent. Though it goes unheard, Mercy draws a sharp breath inwards as all of the noise in the area drops to a dead silence. She had been struggling to hear Blink's fading words with an expression of concern, but now her face displays only consternation. The four-armed mutant mouth a word, her lips barely moving, but no sound comes out. Then she mouths another word - this one perhaps recognizable as a curse. Picking her dated phone off the table, she swiftly types out a message to Blink even as her three other hands clench into tight fists, all now outside of pockets. - (Mercy --> Blink): This is highly unusual. Do you know what is going on? The Morlock's gaze flashes towards the doors, but nothing is happening there aside from two bewildered patrons standing in the open entryway, stunned by the deafening lack of sonic energy. - (Blink --> Mercy): It's something that's been happening on and off, but mostly mid- and uptown. It's been in the news some, along with the requisite hysteria about mutant terrorism, but really no one knows what's causing it. It usually passes pretty quickly, and as far as anyone can tell, it's harmless. She shrugs, making eye contact with Mercy over the phone. - (Blink --> Mercy): I'd portal us somewhere else, but it won't help. At least not without some fancy teleportation tricks that will do your stomach zero favors. Maybe...we had best reschedule? The business talk, I mean. I'm still going to drink my cocoa, though, excuse me. She does indeed go and fetch her order from the counter, casting Ravenna a sympathetic wince as the barista writes out a message in large letters on a white board and props it up for the patrons to see: 'Don't Panic! It will pass soon.' - (Mercy --> Blink): I would like it to stop. Rumors of mutant terrorism are bad for business. Very little in this world is harmless. People begin worrying. What Mercy doesn't mention is what she is concerned people worry about. Namely that whatever goods or money falls into the hand of any mutant, particularly a somewhat intimidating one like herself, will go to fund imagined or real terrorist plots. Apparently, the tall young woman has not before experienced this event before. Her brows furrow and she frowns at Blink's message and taps out a another message. - (Mercy --> Blink): It is fine. Business should not be interrupted so easily. I gather that the ratings are accurate and you are speedy on your delivery times. That is good. Moving packages fast is an art. I use many couriers, but winter has always been a slowing point. The patrons slowly settle back down to their snacks, reading, and some attempt at resuming their conversations. The last one they mostly attempt via some combination of writing, pantomime, and starting to speak only to stop short in frustration when no sound comes out. There is, also, one trio in a corner blithely communicating in sign language now. - (Blink --> Mercy): No, you're right, and I'm not trying to downplay it, I just meant the quiet spells themselves haven't hurt hurt anyone. I think there've been some accidents as a result of people not hearing horns or shouted warnings, but whatever's borking the sound doesn't seem to bork anything else. Here she knocks, silently of course, on the wooden side table between them, then takes a sip from her thermos before continuing, thumb sliding rapidly over the screen of her smartphone. - (Blink --> Mercy): I'm not sure I'd call myself artistic, but I am very fast! It's not always instantaneous, though. If it's somewhere I haven't been, it might take me a couple of jumps to get it right, but it's still a lot quicker than biking. I can even send something through a portal without going myself, although generally my clients don't want that. Mercy brings the fingers of one hand to her throat, pressing gently, before tapping them against her flesh. A second hand clenches at her knee. An eyebrow raises, but then lowers, when Blink raps on the table. Her eyes return to focusing on her phone, where her two other thumbs are tapping numbers repeatedly to produce the appropriate letters. - (Mercy --> Blink): Not instantaneous is not a problem. I am used to things taking their time. I'm surprised you do not charge more for your services. After sending the message, Mercy rubs gently at the base of her neck. There's a momentary pause before she follows up with a second one. - (Mercy --> Blink): Some items may be transportable without assistance and it depends on the location. I prefer hand-delivery over postal services, but sometimes any middleman gets in the way. Blink starts in on a pink and white cupcake, one-handed, her phone perched in the other hand. - (Blink --> Mercy): Most clients are hesitant to hire a courier who looks like I do, much less one who delivers via glowing purple space holes. But I do charge more than you'd be paying a bike messenger, anyway, and my rates get ridiculous if you want something sent beyond city limits. She shrugs, setting down her cake and taking a swig of her cocoa. For a moment her eyes follow Mercy's unoccupied hands as they fidget, but then she turns her attention back to swiping. - (Blink --> Mercy): I prefer hand-delivery too, personally. Not just out of habit, but because some recipients tip. In general you don't need to tell me what I'm carrying, unless it's potentially hazardous. For deliveries that require extra discretion we can discuss on a case-by-case basis. Anything else you'd like to know? Mercy cracks a smile at Blink's first text message, even seeming to let out a little laugh. She glances up from her phone with an amused expression on her face. - (Mercy --> Blink): Most clients aren't me. I only hire couriers who look like you. It's one way to verify the loyalty of my buyers and sellers. Flatscans will never understand our community. Pressing two fingers against her throat again, the four-armed woman raises her eyebrows and a ghost of a smile plays on her lips while the clenched hand relaxes. The hand at her neck moves down to massage an opposing wrist. As she does this, she appears to muse over how to respond to the second message. - (Mercy --> Blink): Your rates will be a non-issue as long as deliver, which I have no doubt you will. Nothing you carry will be hazardous to your health. What else I need to know are your routes. You said you sometimes have to jump a few times to reach your intended destination. My question is if you have a habit of going to the same places when you need to do this. As the message sends, Mercy rolls her eyes and seems to let out an annoyed sigh. She stops massaging her wrist and holds up a hand to indicate that should wait. She then eyes the watch on the wrist that's being held up. - (Mercy --> Blink): My apologies. It sent too soon. If you do have routes, you don't need to tell me them now. I am also curious if it would make your job easier to meet in specified areas rather than different destinations when you deliver to me. You will still receive your proper rate. We can discuss this another time. Thank you for your time. It was a pleasure meeting you, Blink. Unfortunately, I have other business to attend to. She stands up, the tall woman puts her layers back on, and gives a small salute with a wink to Blink. As she leaves, sound slowly returns to the cafe; as a result, it is unlikely that anyone would take notice of her quiet humming.