ArchivedLogs:In Which Some Mutants Look For Jobs, Some Mutants Look For Help, and Some Mutants Look For Trouble

In Which Some Mutants Look For Jobs, Some Mutants Look For Help, and Some Mutants Look For Trouble
Dramatis Personae Blink, Ion, Jax, Lucien, Matt, fakeJoshua, Taylor, Theo	2017-09-15 "Shh shh the /show/ about to start."
Location <NYC> Chimaera Arts - Brooklyn
This is just one of the many abandoned warehouses in DUMBO, and like many of them it has recently changed hands. /Unlike/ most of those, however, it does not have some corporate developer's sign out front promising a transformation into luxury condominiums or a boutique shopping center or the latest concept restaurant. Instead it's marked by a piece of weathered but wildly colorful plywood propped up on a stack of broken pallets, which reads "Chimaera Art Space!" above "chimaera.org" in smaller letters. The warehouse is moderately large and decorated with graffiti art in various styles--some of it recognizable as the work of renowned local street artists. A pair of monstrous scrap metal sculptures, perhaps still works in progress, flank the entrance. The building itself has undergone significant renovation recently, complete with wiring, plumbing, and a modular partitioning system. The grounds, too, have been cleaned up, ramshackle fences torn down and rusting detritus removed in favor of reclaimed (and brilliantly repainted) outdoor furniture ringing an impressively engineered firepit. The Arts Center is transformed! It still has much of its normal feel, but there is a plethora of new sights. A starred logo which reads "Effective Staffing Job Fair" hangs over the entrance outside and inside. There are a number of people who are starting to show up. Hopefuls for a new job. A higher than average number of obvious mutants seem to have shown as well. The tables are set for registration. Each person entering is asked to sign in and is given a nametag as well as a goodie bag with a pen, pad of paper, and a shiny new keychain! Nice lighting of various colors is in place, and people with bright orange polos walk about, ready to help those who are here to find a new career. There is a stage set up, but it looks like there is nobody standing on it for the moment. Various industries are represented, and stations for people to go and learn more about whatever field might interest them, all shown in broad sweeping categories. On one side of the room, which seems to be a little more densely populated, is a table with a banner over it reading: Unique Marketable Talent. Even among the obvious mutants, Taylor /kind/ of stands out. Tall, muscular, ink-black skin, his red dress shirt neatly tailored to the excessive number of limbs he has. It probably doesn't help that he /doesn't/ arrive through the door -- a misty-swirling purple /glow/ opens up in the middle of the space and he steps through, glancing back at the portal over one shoulder. "I think we're supposed to sign in? Do we /want/ to sign in?" Emerging from the portal right after Taylor, Blink is dressed fairly conservative today, by her standards: a rose blouse and a dark purple midi skirt, sheer black nylons and sensible chunky-heeled pumps, also in rose. Her magenta-and-black hair is pulled back into a very neat, very intricate fishtail braid. "I doubt it matters all that much much." But she doesn't sound all that certain, really. "To be honest, I've never been to a job fair before." Jax is -- not an obvious mutant, but still obvious/ly/ a mutant; this recently out of jail the brightly-coloured photokinetic draws at least a couple (not-so) surreptitious glances and whispers as he enters. Brilliantly flame-hued hair (the metallic sheen of the gold seems a hard colour to achieve with /actual/ hair dye), turquoise button-down paired with black skinny jeans that are heavily embroidered with -- /some/ kind of labyrinthine detailing that seems to shift more than stitching really should, stompy boots, enormous mirror-lensed sunglasses. He's shooting out a quick text as he comes in, pausing by the registration table to consider it thoughtfully. "... am I still supposed to register if I ain't looking for a job?" (Jax --> Matt): It all looks very official here now um (Jax --> Matt): Are y'all here? (Jax --> Matt): Oh wait nevermind I found a floating bone chariot I guess that's a yes Lucien, in departure from trend, doesn't stand out at all, really. Serviceably neat (and extremely well-tailored) grey trousers, a green dress shirt, a welcome bag already in his hands. He's dangling the keychain on one finger, green eyes considering it thoughtfully. Then looking down (further down, even, than he usually has to) at his brother. "You did not tell me there would be swag." Just past the registration desk, Joshua -- well, anyway, he /looks/ considerably like Joshua; he's even dressed in Joshua's boring clothes (khakis and a grey polo, right now) has /swag/ of his own. He's clutching it tightly in one hand, watching the stream of people entering and milling from one station to the next. /He/ approaches the busiest of the tables -- for the moment, though, hanging back. Eying the Unique Marketable Talents banner above it. Then the people staffing the table. Then the banner. !Joshua's lips purse, contemplative. Beside Lucien, Matt is digging languidly through his own swag bag. "I hadn't realized there would be any." He's come in style tonight, sporting a crisp white dress shirt, a tie of subtle tessellated green and silver leaves, an emerald green satin vest, charcoal slacks, and polished black oxford shoes. Style aside, though, he looks half dead, his skin pale, dark shadows under his eyes, short hair oddly fuzzy and lusterless. At least this keeps in theme with the wheelchair he's riding in, which not only seems to be constructed largely out of actual bone, but is also /hovering/ a small distance off the ground. Cracklepop! Ion is -- also not using the door, today. PSH doors. He pops into existence with a faint crackle of sparks, just beside a wall -- just behind one of the tables, too, which he's quickly skirting his way around. He doesn't look /entirely/ dressed for job seeking -- heavy boots, faded jeans, a plain white tee with his extremely chewed-up and singed and beaten Mutant Mongrels vest over top, its many patches declaring MUTANT MONGRELS MC and MMNYC and PRESIDENT and RABID DOG. He doesn't seem particularly rabid, though, just bright-smiled and bright-cheered as he bounds over to sling an arm around Jax's shoulder. "Eyyyyyyy, Sunshine, you a free /man/ now? How long you plan to keep that up for huh? Them tinysharks of your, they happy like you got no idea. Maybe," he reconsiders, "some idea. You looking for a /job/ or what? School it not paying good?" One thing becomes quickly evident. Not everyone here is an actual mutant. In fact, not everyone here seems to be in favor of mutants. As people with inky skin step through portals and known terrorists show up, and people are hovering! Then there is the crackle of Ion's arrival to accent it all. There is a distinct crowd that seems to form that is unhappy about the mutant presence. This, however, seems to be prepared for, as an attractive young blonde approaches the group. "Have you found everything you are looking for?" she asks pleasantly. One of them answers, "A little too much," he says. "Why are you letting them hang around here?" The young lady focuses a plastic smile on them as she answers, "We are an equal opportunity employer and do not discriminnate according to religion, nationality, creed, sex, gender, or race. Everyone is welcome here." The group seems not to keen on this idea, but as of the moment, they haen't left. Instead they are gathering and looking at a manufacturing table. A young black man in an orange shirt, in turn goes to each arrival that comes by an unusual method and asks them, "Excuse me, when you have a moment, we would love for everyone to sign in, and feel free to get a goodie back by the door." He doesn't stay to enforce it, he just makes the request. The unique marketable talent is most decidedly referring to mutant abilities, and is meeting with mixed responses. Some look nervous to fill it out, and the table is manned by a young lady with bright red skin. Clearly a mutant herself. One at a time she answers questions regardint the program to those who ask. Jax starts, tensing only briefly at Ion's enthusiastic greeting before smiling, leaning into it -- briefly, too -- offering a one-armed hug in return. "I don't want to jinx it, man. Plans don't always go quite how you want 'em." He's vaguely steering Ion toward the crowded Mutant Table too -- though gets only /most/ of the way there before stopping by the Tessiers instead. "Matt, Ion's wonderin' if teaching pays good. -- wait," now casting a puzzled look to Ion, "Are /you/ lookin' for a job?" "It pays terribly," Matt replies. "Jax and I have made terrible life choices. But perhaps we can help our students make better ones, though..." He's studying his co-worker critically, scuffing knuckles under clean-shaven chin. "...I ought not to assume that Jax isn't here to make a better one /himself/." Blink gravitates toward the table beneath the 'Unique Marketable Talents' banner. She smiles at the young woman staffing the desk, then picks up a brochure and leafs through it uncertainly before finally picking up a clipboard to fill in her information. Seeing Joshua, she tips a small bow at him, perhaps just to disguise the slight widening of her eyes in surprise. "Are you looking for a new job?" she asks quietly. The !Joshua lifts his chin to Blink, one jerky upnod of greeting. One small hitch of shoulder in answer. "You think I'm --" He glances up at the sign. Thoughtful. "Marketable?" Only now actually approaching the table properly. "How do you match people to jobs, anyway?" "I think I'm -- good on the signing in." Taylor sounds a bit uncertain. A bit apprehensive. "Dude, if /you're/ not marketable who the fuck among us is?" He straightens, though, shoulders squaring as he approaches The Unique Talents table. "Are y'all seriously like." Still uncertain, fumbling a little for words before asking, "... renting out mutants? Er, I mean. Mutant powers." "Terrible? You all? Shit, man, you two ain't nothing but goods. You taking care of the /youth/ the fuck better is there than that?" Ion shakes his head. Beams brighter as he adds: "Me? Fuck, no, I looking to /hire/ some people." "I've managed to market my...'unique talents'," Blink says, adding in an air quote with pen in hand, "though not very /well/, I suppose. They think they can do it better, and if they can sell mine they can certainly market /yours/." Though she glances nervously at Taylor. "I still think the /people/ who come attached to some of these talents might make it a harder sale, though." Lucien is tracking Joshua(?)'s path through the room, brows lifting fractionally and his hand coming up to press fingertips lightly to his lips. He glances down to Matt -- back up to Joshua. "And here I thought tonight would hold no surprises." He sounds rather pleased, really. His brows hike up higher at Ion -- though here, at least, he makes no comment. "... what are you hirin' for?" Jax eyes Ion curiously before hastily reassuring: "Oh gosh no /I/ ain't in the market. I just -- we got a whole passle of kids down at school an' /some/ of them want to do something after graduating. Good to know what options are out there." Trailing up to the table beside Blink and Taylor, he folds his hands behind his back. "How d'you vet the companies you work with?" The young lady nods to Joshua. "Well," she says, "First, we try to find out what type of job you want to do. We help companies find more cost effective solutions for their project needs." She turns to Taylor. "In a sense, yes. We believe if you have a talent that allows you to do a job that would be very costly to a company, there is no reason that you should not be paid very well for doing that job. The company which needs your services benefits because they save time, money, and hassle. You benefit because you are paid what you are truly worth." The room darkens slightly except for the stage, and a majestic theme begins to play. A young man in a blue polo and khakis steps eagerly onto the stage. "Welcome!" he announces. Those who have met him might recognize Theo. "Thanks for joining us tonight here at Effective Staffing's first New York City Job Fair. My name is Theodore Fegenbush, the founder of Effective Staffing and you'll have to listen to me drone on in a little bit. In the mean time, we will have the snacks coming out shortly, and so feel free to search the tables. A quick note for everyone here, this company IS an equal opportunity employer. Everyone is welcome here. If that bothers you, that's fine, you are welcome to your opinion, but please be respectful of the rest of the visitors here." Matt's smile brightens at Ion's praise. "I was speaking strictly of our fiscal judgment in this particular case, but still, I appreciate the vote of confidence." His eyes follow his brother's and settle on Joshua. "Mm," seems to be the sum total of his commentary on that, fingertips resting against the side of his cheek meditatively. When Theo starts speaking, Matt's bright green eyes snap to the man and fix on him steadily. "I don't really think we /ought/ to welcome opinions that question anyone's personhood, really." Mild, as his eyes skid aside to one of the knots of uncomfortable-looking humans. "I imagine," !Joshua is glancing back over his shoulder at Matt, "that their bottom line would be very much curtailed if they didn't." Looking back to the table: "How /do/ you vet companies that you work with? Or the people you're hiring? Do I need to -- demonstrate?" Leaning in with a bit more hushed of a tone: "My /mutant/ thing, I mean." "SHH!" Ion is bouncing on his toes, eyes brighter as the lights go down. He BAPS the kindofJoshua on the arm, pointing eagerly to the stage. "Shh shh the /show/ about to start." "... I don't think it's going to be that kind of show." Taylor is still uncertain. His arms are coiling in tighter against himself. His brows pull into a deep crease as Theo starts talking. "... or I mean, maybe it is." His eyes are skipping around the room, lingering on one of the uncomfortable-looking humans as well. Theo seems to have little more to say for the moment, and exits the stage. It wasn't that kind of show. At least not yet. The young lady nods, "Those are good questions," she answers Joshua. "You see, the companies we work with are required to enter a non-discrimination contract with us. Breaking the contract is legally unwise for them. Regarding those who we hire, we require a full background check, and you must be interviewed by one of our recruiters. When you are suggested for a job to an account manager, that person will also interview you before sending you on to the client for final approval." She grins widely at the question about demonstrating. "Not here, this is a job fair!" she laughs in a rather good-natured manner. "Testing of your abilities is done privately, no prying eyes. The only people who know about the testing is your talent tester." Lucien drops his hand to fold arms loosely over his chest, lips faintly compressed as Theo steps down off the stage. His eyes flit to Joshua -- then the young lady he is talking to. "I believe he asked about vetting, though." Mild and curious. "Is there a process for that, or can anyone work with you who agrees to the non-discrimination clause?" Joshua has /just/ been lifting a hand -- demonstratively! -- but drops it with an almost disappointed sigh when the woman tells him it isn't necessary. "So," he clarifies thoughtfully, "we're protected because they'll run into legal trouble if they pull anything?" His thumb hooks into a belt loop. "Who does the testing? Is that -- recorded somehow? To send to the potential -- you know, jobs?" "Wait, shit, really, is that it?" Ion's hands clap together once (it sends a small shower of sparks skittering into the air to dissipate only inches from him.) "Because I looking to hire some people, yeah? Mutants people. Need people who can get around fast, deliver thing quick? You got you some freaks like that?" His brows WAGGLE at Blink. Blink stops writing for a moment, looks up at the red-skinned woman at the table waiting for her to answer Lucien and Joshua's questions. Then tilts her head at Ion. "So you want to hire people /through/ Effective Staffing?" She raises her eyebrow, her smile quizzical but not unkind. The young red lady answers with a tilt of her head. "Yes, we have to record your strength and control, so that we can determine your ability to meet a given job's requirements. Simply having the right talent is not enough, but you must be capable enough to accomplish the job." Theo arrives at the table, and the young lady seems happy to defer to him on the other questions, afer all, several people are asking her questions at once. "Mr. Fegenbush! These folks were asking a lot of questions about our process." Theo nods, "Each partnership is carefully studied both in regards to the client's business model and practice," he explains, "as well as the individuals who are part of the agreement, just as any other staffing firm. We don't just work with anyone. Forging an agreement often takes several months and the hard work of many individuals both from our company and the potential clients, and ultimately I have to sign off on any company that we might take on as a client. I want to make certain that all of you are safe, and that our clients are well taken care of." The red girl takes the opportunity to answer Blink, "Yes, you would work for us, and be paid by us. We help act as a buffer between you and the client, giving you a voice in the event that you have any needs or concerns." "Freaks are right," says the young man that seems to be the leader of one small knot of disgruntled humans. "You are trying to take our jobs now, is that it? There's not enough bleeding hearts for your kind? Government is just rolling over and letting the lot of you do whatever you feel like. No consequences." "You're here looking... for a courier?" Jax's knuckles press to his lips, stifling a laugh. "I guess business been good?" One hand lifts, fingers curling in a wave as Theo approaches. "Hola. Flicker told me you was heading this thing up. I been teaching at the school now, thought it may be good to come down an' see --" He waves a hand all around them. "What kinda options is out there to talk to the kids about. How /do/ this work, anyway, do y'all --" He stops at the words of the young human, though, brows furrowing. With a small wrinkle of nose: "... You know, I ain't sure this whole everyone's-entitled-to-their-opinion thing maybe helps create the kinda environment you want here if you're lookin' for anyone to trust you on this safe thing." One of !Joshua's eyes twitches juuust briefly. A small tension in his jaw. "If they do their jobs right," he offers levelly, "there's not much /trying/ about it." Taylor's arms tighten a little bit further around himself. His mind reflexively sharpens its alertness, listening attentively to the thoughts -- of everyone around him, really, though /focused/ more on the disgruntled human cluster nearby. "What? Shit, nah, I just thinked maybe there be a lot of people here? Who want them some jobs? We got so much shit needs --" Ion cuts off at the interjection from the young man. His head tilts, brow creasing. Just a moment later his smile brightens, fierce. Sliding around the group to take a few steps, place himself squarely between the humans and the people at the Unique Talents table. "My friend he right, boy, it ain't even no case of trying. Maybe you do shit half so good as us you wouldn't have no worries?" His hands spread, palms tipped up toward the ceiling. "Maybe you take your shitty opinion and get the fuck out? We got /jobs/ to steal." Quietly, Lucien takes a few small steps back. Away from Ion. Though it is perfectly capable of its own motion, he rests a hand on his brother's chair, pulling it slightly back along with him. "Well. I'm a /very/ good courier," Blink says, lowering the clipboard. "I don't think I've put any human couriers out of work, and I'm not looking to. But I /would/ like a job that pays me decently." She's watching the disgruntled humans warily, and then looking past them, surveying the scene. << Matt's probably not up for a fight at the moment. But the space pretty open, and we know it much better than they do. >> She takes a step away from the table, not quite level to Ion, but nearer to Jax, at least. "Do they /have/ any security?" her question is quiet, but not so quiet that those standing nearby cannot hear. Theo grins when he sees Jax. "Hey, it's been a while. I remember you, it's Jax, right?" Theo offers. "They are entitled to their opinions, they just may not be entitled to share them," he notes to the photokinetic. "Seems that has gotten you in trouble lately, or so the news claims at least. Sorry, hold on." There is a sneer. "Stupid muties can't get a job the old fashioned-" Theo breaks in, standing between the group. "Gentlemen, this is not going to happen here. If you want to bicker, do it outside. You want to fight, do that somewhere else. This place is for people who want to get paid what they are worth." Theo makes a point to look between both the humans and Ion and Josh. His thoughts are pretty focuses as well, though there seems to be the sounds of something electronic present with himself. /The price of playing this fair/. "I'm not going to discriminate either on who I kick out." The human spits on the ground. "Fuckin'-" Theo points. "Okay you're done here. Get out, you're not working with my company." Though he is not a large man, Theo's voice rings with finality. "Anyone else?" The young man laughs, "You gonna make us, mutie lover?" As if to answer Blink's question, a man with leathery, rocklike skin makes his way forward wearing an orange shirt. "No," Theo says, "He is. Thanks Michael." The loudmouth turns to see the tall thick skin, and goes a little pale. He leaves, muttering about how terrible this fair was anyway, but the others linger for a moment, uncertain whether to protest further or to stay to look for a job. For the moment, they say nothing. The !Joshua blinks, watching this with the same very small tightness in his jaw. Quietly, to those nearby: "As you can see," his hand tips out toward Theo and Ion, "there was blame on both sides." Matt does not argue with Lucien's decision. Despite his visible exhaustion, his powers stretch out and methodically makes contact with his teammates', sharpening and bolstering them. He does not ease this off when Theo steps in, though his eyebrows do raise up. "Evidently," Jax's voice is quiet and even, his expression only a very mild frown -- but the sheer disgust in his mind is painfully clear to Taylor, a sharpening edge of anger to it. "Why not just get the Sentinels in here to keep /everyone/ safe and have done with it." "You for-goddamn-/real/?" Ion's brows have hiked high as he whirls on a heel to face Theo. His mind is loud as it ever is, a headachey jangling din of bright electric energy and more incredulousness than anger. A fluttering frenetic spiral of thoughts that largely circles around the many (many) times in life he has heard similar sentiments. He doesn't actually voice these thoughts, though. He just swings one curled fist, hard and fast and wired with an unpleasant jolt of electric shock and aimed, more or less, for the joint of Theo's jaw. Theo watches the man leave before turning back to Jax. "The media always sides against us, this company will draw enough drama without feeding the fire with stupid brawls because someone said something that pisses us off." He looks back toward Ion just in time to take a strike square on the jaw. He reels back, and the sounds of electronics disappear from his thoughts. He stumbles to the side, and several orange shirts come rushing to his location, two of them rushing between Theo and Ion. It takes a second for him to recover. His eyes are furious, and he checks his lip to see if it's bleeding. Good, it's not. He stands back up to his full height, and eyes Ion. "I was going to explain to you why I handled this the way I did," he says. "I didn't hear your conversation, I don't know who started it, and as of 3 seconds ago I don't really give a damn. I stand for the same rights you do. Today though, this isn't a rally. You wanna be a loose cannon like this? You can go too. This is a place for people who want jobs, not for people who just want to stand on soap boxes and make sure that everyone agrees with them, or sit around having a pissing contest. This is for people who want to make a difference in our community that is tangible." Underneath his words, his thoughts are a rage, though he outwardly keeps his tone even. /Damn you for making me kick you out. I only wanted to kick out bigots./ "Ballpark guess," Joshua is glancing over to the Tessiers, now, "how many people in this room you think got that man to thank for saving their lives?" A small quirk of brows. One does /probably/ not need to be a telepath to surmise that he is not speaking of Theo. One of Taylor's slim arms comes up, his eyes even wider still as he rubs at the side of his face. "Do you even have any idea..." He doesn't finish, though. He just shakes his head, mouth twisted down in disgust. "Fucking hell, I think I've seen enough. You," he's leaving the table, though, glancing to Theo as he heads for the door, "have /so/ much to learn about /our/ community if you got a hope of this making a goddamn difference." "You don't know shit about what I stand for." Ion's grin hasn't faded -- not through the punching and not afterward. There's a lively brightness to his eyes -- moreso than before, a kind of manic gleam that carries through to the restless jittery twitch in his non-fisted hand. "But it sure as hell don't got shit to do with this." His fingers flex absently as he turns, following Taylor out. Lucien's hand is still resting on Matt's hoverchair -- his weight shifting now to rest slightly against it. Joshua's question pulls his grip ont he chair just a little bit tighter. There's a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he watches the brief altercation -- mentally, insofar as his strangely compartmentalized mind shows much of anything, he's largely turning over Ion's words, Jax's disgust, idly pondering just exactly how /much/ social capital the two of them alone hold in New York's mutant community. "Goodness. I dearly hope someone who turned up for this has /exceptional/ PR skills as their -- what is he saying?" He glances up at the banner over the table. "-- Unique Marketable Talent." Matt leans back against the headrest of his chair, fine, soft brows gathering in thought. "Directly or indirectly?" His eyes flick around the room. "The Mongrels have kept this /entire/ community from being wiped out." Even raising his voice seems like an effort now. "And no, this isn't a rally. But for a lot of us, /surviving/ is an act of protest, of rebellion, of /war/." His voice is still equable--gentle, even, though he's speaking louder. "Mr. Fegenbush, you don't get us on your side if you can't convince us you're on ours. And it's fairly apparent you'll going to need help doing that." He glances over his shoulder at Lucien. Jax's teeth wiggle at one lip ring, head turning slightly to watch Ion and Taylor leave. The disgust in his mind hasn't subsided, really, but his voice is quiet and composed when he speaks. "Lord knows I don't got no kinda head for business, Theo, an' -- probably many of us don't know much of nothin' about how to run something like this." His fingers skim through his colourful hair, one hand gesturing -- all around them, really. "But we /do/ know the community and that seems like -- well." A shrug, a nod to Matt. "A place you could kinda use some help." Theo lets out a sigh, watching Taylor and Ion leave, and he turns back to Jax. "What the hell was that anyway?" he growls. "Never seen mutants that don't want bigots kicked out of where they are. They want to fight more then they want to win." He takes a moment to rub his jaw. He arches his brow, calming again as Matt speaks. "You must be right," he says, both to Matt and to Jax, swallowing his pride for a moment. The sound of electronics are starting to come back into this thoughts. "I sure can't claim otherwise with what just happened. Please, educate me." He turns to one of the orange shirts, "Clark, could you help Britney man the table?" He walks aside of the table for those who choose to join him. "I'm all ears. Jax, you know people have never been my strong suit, and I have been gone for what, 5 years? A lot has happened it seems." Blink has been quiet, her expression guarded, her stance still low and stable even after the hitting has stopped. As the Tessiers speak, though, she gradually relaxes. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and shakes her head. She twitches a small, rueful smile at Jax, then leans closer to him and not-quite-whispers, "Educating the /youth/, that's nothing to this. Good luck!" A purple glow envelopes her and she vanishes in a swirl of misty light. Still standing by the table, !Joshua just watches quietly as people continue trailing out. "Effective." He is looking down at the keychain from his goodie bag, nodding to himself as he puts it back into the bag. "Aptly named." He's taking his phone out of his pocket, though he vanishes -- silent and swift -- disappearing before he actually unlocks it. A few seconds later, though, a text comes through to Lucien: (Mirror --> Lucien): I do hope you charge them what you're worth. "Oh gosh." Jax's cheeks have flushed red, his attention skating back over to the Tessiers once more. "I mean, I don't -- I don't think nobody's got /no/ problems with kicking out bigots, but -- doin' it /while/ you make a point of how you're also gonna kick out mutants who call them out on it is --" His teeth bite down against his lip ring again. "Not like to earn you a lot of charitable feelings." His head shakes, brightly coloured hair flopping down over his sunglasses. "But I don't think I'm the most greatest person for helpin' with -- I just meant you should -- have you met Luci?" he finally stops stumbling over his words long enough to ask, with a gesture towards the taller Tessier. "I don't think there's a thing about PR in this city he don't know." Lucien slides his phone out of his pocket when it buzzes. He's in the process of answering the text when Jackson points him out -- his slim black eyebrows raise, a very small upward twitch curling at the corner of his mouth. "I do rather suspect that people who /have/ been working tirelessly for years to uplift their community might, also, take your attitude toward whose contributions here are the more valuable somewhat amiss." Like his brother, he speaks quietly; unlike his brother his soft tones come out just gently neutral, modulated /down/ rather than straining upward with the effort. "And we have met." (Lucien --> Mirror): And here I thought Joshua had seen the guiding light of capitalism. (Lucien --> Mirror): What are you thinking, here? amNewYork? Theo nods. "You're Steve Roger's friend, right?" He shakes his head, "I wasn't faulting him for standing up to it. I just didn't want him becoming part of the problem by escalating the situation. Guess that was too much to ask." He is calm again, though still mildly annoyed. At least there are several more hours left. to this. "People treat mutants like animals, and these fights, they let them feel justified. I'm not saying that guy didn't deserve a beating, and hell, if I saw him on the street I might give it to him myself. There's a time and a place for that. Five years ago I guess I would have done the same thing, maybe I'm the pot calling the kettle black." He glances over the people who remain at the fair. For the moment it's a bit quieter. He sets his teeth. "Don't think I haven't been working tirelessly, Mr. Lucien. I spent the last 5 years not here, but fighting to make this happen now. It doesn't happen overight. I wasn't born into money. Jax can tell you, I came here with the clothes on my back. I left so that I could come back with a way to make a real difference, something global, not just local. I understand that surviving is what happens here to win. But I don't think surviving is enough for us. I want us to thrive." Matt rests the tips of his index and middle fingers against his temple, his expression unreadable. "Trust me, Mr. Fegenbush, humans will treat us like animals if we roll over and let them, too. /They don't need/ justification, because they have power. Now..." His voice has gone quieter once more. "From where I--ah, /sit/, it seems as thought Effective Staffing's PR has focused primarily on being palatable to /human/ society--from the sterilized language of your advertisement right down to the not-taking-any-sides approach. However, you cannot achieve what you want to without earning the trust of /mutants/. And that's going take take more work than just offering us a chance to make some money." His smile is not unsympathetic. "/Greed/ is not as simple or as effective a motivation as all that. You need /trust/. And, if you want people to educate you...you'll probably need to pay them what their talents are worth. But not me, alas. Bonsoir, and good luck." He turns his wheelchair toward the door. (Mirror --> Lucien): Oh, I'm sure Joshua would have found this all quite illuminating. (Mirror --> Lucien): As will much of the community, soon enough. Lucien's phone buzzes again, but this time he doesn't check it. He just listens to Theo quietly, finally straightening away from his lean on his brother's chair. "Did I say even one thing about /your/ work?" The question is mild, and likely rhetorical; he does not wait for answer before continuing: "Yet you seem incapable of discussing it without in the next breath making the implication nobody else could possibly be thinking about this as deeply as you are. That nobody else's work could possibly be as meaningful. That nobody else has the insight you do into what their own community might need." His fingers have tightened slightly around his phone, his smile a very small brief flit of a thing. "It might behoove you to take a step back and listen to the voices of the people you aim to uplift. Without the reflexive assumption that you know better than they, if you could find that in you. And if you cannot --" His hand lifts, palm upturned and fingers spread slightly. "It seems like a shameful waste of five years. Good evening, Mr. Fegenbush." Head inclining slightly, he flicks the screen of his phone back on as he follows his brother out. (Lucien --> Mirror): Make sure it is a good and punny headline. It might soothe some of my brother's ire, at having to sit through that. Jax's mouth opens -- closes again fast enough that his teeth click together hard. "People gonna treat us like animals no matter how much respectability politics you try an' hold people to. There ain't no amount of polite talkin' or fancy suits or well-paying jobs that gonna stop /that/. But /you/ got a choice when you come in to try an' convince folks to buy what you're selling and makin' the choice to let how /humans/ think define our personhood for us -- that's just gonna make a lotta people /feel/ like you're thinking of us like animals that you gotta train up proper, too." The tip of his tongue wiggles rapid and restless at one of his lip rings. "You got an idea here that could well help some folks. But it ain't gonna /reach/ none of the folks you want to help if you come in lookin' down on 'em an' talking this 'all intolerance is equal so I'mm'a kick everyone out equally' stuff." His nose wrinkles up, fingers rubbing at the back of his neck. "Not to mention just from a community relation standpoint it might do you a world of good /learning/ who /is/ already on the ground doing real hard work for the community before you mouth off to anyone about how only people who want to /actually/ help is welcome here. Aside from the number of fence-sitters you gonna lose /right/ quick if you insulting the folks who kept folks fed and clothed and alive for years I'd think it's just good sense to know who might /be/ a friend to help you make connections -- if you actually approached anyone like a equal." He shrugs, and glances after the Tessiers. "I think you could build something real here. But you can't do it /alone/."