ArchivedLogs:Off the Boat

Off the Boat
Dramatis Personae B, Rasa, Violet	2014-06-17 '
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. With the temperatures climbing up near ninety today and the closed-in buildings and concrete of the city not /helping/ things cool off any, there's quite a few people flocking to any places where cold drinks and air conditioning can be found. B is very much among those who is blissfully glad for the air conditioning; the tiny blue shark looks a little peaked as ze steps into the cafe, a few shades too pale a blue, normally gleaming skin kind of matte-dry and chafey. On break from work ze's nevertheless dressed casually, lightweight pink capris and a strappy pale green tank, a wealth of colorful jelly bracelets on one arm and a pair of studded wristcuffs on the other, chunky grey-and-pink platform sneakers. Inside ze beelines for the counter, peering into the fridge's selection of bottled drinks with its juices and hippie natural sodas before just claiming a plain water. B opens the bottle /before/ getting in line to pay for it, gulping down half of it in one go and cupping a webbed hand to splash out some of the cold water onto hir face and gills. Pro-tip: cats do not form orderly queues. Where there is a line, there is also a feline, freshly entered--and happy to push her hood back with relief to have cooler air washing over the ears that immediately poke up--who is studying the vista before her with one thought. How best to avoid having to wait? The solution is found in the small, colorful shark who's time to pay will come before those at the back of the line. Although...pay? An earflick marks a certain thoughtfulness as she drifts, mistlike, to take a position at B's elbow. Violet is not shy in raking him over with a look. Nostrils quiver. So too does the seat of her pants, courtesy of a tucked away tail. A test is in order? She believes so. "...cobbler?" The sudden materialization of Cat makes B twitch, a little startle-jump as ze splishes water against the side of hir neck. Hir gills flare out, black eyes shooting open to take up a disproportionately large amount of hir narrow face. "Hmwha-?" Hir first reaction at this apparent non sequitur is to look down at hir /shoes/, rocking from toe to heel to toe almost contemplatively. "No, I'm --" B blinks, hir own nostrils flaring in brief curious sniff. It takes a moment before the -- admittedly more common use of this word snaps into comprehension and ze shakes her head apologetically. "Wait did you /want/ -- there's peach today." There's a wave of bottle towards the counter, a faintly puzzled look on the teenager's face. It is possible that Violet misses the significance of that glance due to the lack of shoes. Bare, furry toes white-tipped with visible claws are on offer for B's eyes--several of them ragged ended. They flex and then curl down under the weight of that gaze, a physical approximation of matching puzzlement. But let it not be said she isn't quick on the draw: "There're two of you. Blue boysss....sss'no." The hitch is a thoughtful one, the transition from the named gender to something more neutral, for B hirself. And then to the counter, the display case, those orange eyes turn at the promise of what /she/ was promised. "The other one said he'd bring it for me," she says with her sleepy South-dipped accent. "/Oh/." Puzzlement disappears in a heartbeat with the quick understanding of someone who has spent a lifetime being confused for Shane. At the shift from gendered- into less so, a quick closed-lipped smile curls B's lips, briefly warm and briefly /pleased/. "Yeah, Shane's -- four minutes older. He said he'd bring you cobbler?" The heel-toe rocking doesn't stop, now, though it eases into a more casual bounce. "He got Pa to bake some fresh this morning. Our dad bakes /really/ good. I think there's just a smidge of basil in, it goes. Pretty great with the peach." Ze edges up further as people ahead finish ordering, glancing at the menu as ze waits hir turn and splashing a little more water along hir arms, now. "Though there's this bakery down in, um," B's fingers snap for a moment, tiny droplets of water sprinkling out with the motion, "TriBeCa. Run by these really rad women who -- anyway they're friendly too and I think they have cobbler like. Every day. Well actually okay I can't promise that but they do always have pie and /incredible/ cupcakes." Violet has become willing to wait in line, now that there is entertainment in the form of a lookalike. And such a different one! Now assured of the cobbler's presence--though perhaps not on whether or not she'll have to /pay/--she tilts her head to take up B-study again. Her large eyes blink once, twice. "On account of your daddy and me both coming from down Georgia way, yeah. Met him too, I think. You and him, you dress alike." TriBeCa? No thank you, she's here now and there are further hints to drop, accompanied with a smile just broad enough to expose the tips of canines to dimple her lower lip. "Got a corndog, off've him." All the foods, in other words. All the /free/ foods. A heavily clothed form comes running in from the outside, dumb hands reaching up with clumsy fingers to start unbuttoning the lilac covering that is wrapped damply in some places to a teenage body. Underneath, Rasa is a light magenta color, looking flushed and miserable and just a bit sweaty underneath. Hir wavy hair is light blonde and curls every which way an inch from hir scalp, but also mostly lays flat against hir head. Hir eyes are a watery blue and hir lips are parted as ze takes deep breaths of the air conditioned room. Ze stumbles in, taking off hir burqa completely, leaving only a loose, lime green tank top and some cut off jean shorts (rolled up to expose thighs) underneath. Hir tail lashes left and right, swirling between bleached out and toasted magenta like the rest of hir body, below the neck. The burqa is wadded up as ze moves toward the line, desperately needing a bit of water. Upon seeing B, ze nods and attempts a greeting, but mostly is hot and miserable. "Oh! You met him." B brightens at this, a more energetic bounce on hir toes. "Yeah he's really colorful. I just like -- color, I think Shane got all the fashiony genes. What part of Georgia? You sound," ze admits shyly, "pretty fresh off -- wait. I guess that doesn't really, uhm, apply, you don't /boat/ up from Georgia do you. I guess you /could/." Hir cheeks are flushing a little darker, tinting slightly closer to purple. Ze doesn't actually /greet/ Rasa upon arrival -- just scoots a little back to pass hir roommate the half-empty bottle of (cold!) water ze is holding. "I want a corndog." Hir tongue swipes across hir lips as ze returns to hir place in line and then moves on up to the counter. "No corndogs here, though. Oh /gosh/ I forgot what I was going to um --" Ze looks at the barista sheepishly. "No wait okay okay, I'm getting an iced coconut oolong and a bowl of chili -- um the /meat/ kind -- and a reuben, no cheese, no bread." So okay just a plate of corned beef and sauerkraut and dressing. "Oh and I had a bottle of water and Shane promised this -- wait what's your name?" Hir brows lift uncertainly when ze realizes ze's skipped that part. "-- um also a peach cobbler." Hir blush has deepened as ze adds apologetically, "-- /I'm/ B. Apologies I don't have manners today I think the heat melted them." The flurry of drapery being discaded, seen in the corner of her vision, pulls a look from Violet to Rasa. It takes her a moment to make the leap from the magenta and blond creature seen today to the blue and purple creature seen before; the tail helps a great deal. "Rasa, right? Hey there," she twangs before swinging bemusement B's way. Is that...is that /blushing/? Toothy smile becomes toothy grin. "Tell ya a secret," she confides, "but I /did/ hop a boat up here. Savannah's got a bunch of 'em. I'm Vi, and yeah, I'll take that cobbler, thank you." Beatific with the knowledge that she will not have to pay, the catgirl opts to relax and join the other two in relaxing: her hoodie is unzipped, shrugged off, the arms lashed around her waist to leave her upper torso bare--and sweat-matted--save for her black-and-cinnamon pelt and a dingy tank top. "That comes with whipped cream, don't it?" "Thanks," It takes the introduction of water to hir throat to give Rasa the ability to speak, hir mouth still sticky feeling immediately after the hydration has been imbibed. Ze goes for another hit as ze drags an elbow and crook of an arm across hir forehead, trying to mop up a little bit of the body fluid ze seems to be leaking. "It's... humid out there. I can't tell if I'm sweating or just collecting moisture in a very... hot fashion." Ze takes another sip then adds, "temperature wise, not levels of attraction." Ze resists the urge to pour the last remnants of water on hir face, screwing on the top once more before transferring hir attention to Violet. "Yeah, hey, Vi." Ze smiles at B. "She really likes whipped cream." "Uh -- sure. Whipped cream on the cobbler. Dairy kills me, I always forget other people are into it." B tugs a wallet out of the pocket of hir capris, forking over a credit card to cover the order and then stepping aside. "It's horrible out there today. Be glad you /can/ sweat I need to start carrying a spritz bottle again." B shudders, leaning up against the display case while waiting for hir food. The cobbler needs less preparation, delivered before anything else with a large dollop of hand-whipped cream on top. "Though my pa makes this coconut-milk and -- cashew. Whipped cream stuff at home that's actually /really/ good. Like /actually/ creamy, I hate the soy stuff." Hir eyes open wider, another smile flitting across hir face. "You seriously boated up there? That's /so/ cool. I wouldn't even know how you, uh. Find boats. To boat on, actually. I mean, I know where boats /are/ I just. Don't know how on earth you'd figure out -- huh." For a moment ze's a little lost in consideration of this. "People at the docks here mostly just yell at me and Shane if they see us around. Maybe we're bad luck?" Priorities! Violet doesn't speak again until after the cobbler is delivered and a fingertip swept through the top of the dollop to be popped into her mouth. She manages a feline smile around that finger, eyes narrowed with the happy instead of the displeased. Stereotypes. They are alive and well, today. And when she does talk again, there's a throbbing note in her voice, the purr that bumbles in her chest staking a claim on her tone. "Didn't figure it'd get so hot up here," is her lone contribution to weather talk. Sure, she must be miserable but...cobbler. Whipped cream. The little things sometimes balance the discomforts. "You just gotta pick your moments, yeah?" For boat-sneaking. "Night time. Outer docks. Container ships 'stead of smaller boats." "Oh? Well, c'mere and I'll sweat on you. I think I'm doing it enough for the both of us." Ze spreads hir arms wide to offer damp hugs to hir roommate before turning hir attention to the counter and looks over the boards before ordering a cold caprese sandwich, heavy on the balsamic, and a frozen coffee with caramel. Order finished and paid for, ze turns back to the others. "That's mostly because if they are fishermen, they fear they won't find fish around you. The edibles tend to be fearful of the eaters." To Vi, ze comments, "It... can get hot. I don't imagine it's as hot as it can possibly get in the South," yep, the capital S can be heard in hir tone, "but it tries its best sometimes. Plus, global warming, we're all going to die." Ze gives a little shrug, just observing the hitchhiking conversation for the time period, interested, but silently so. B's lips twitch as Violet licks the cream, pressing hard together /possibly/ to stifle some (stereotypical!) comment. "It feels worse in the city just because all the. Concrete and everything /holds/ heat terribly. Just kind of want to run away from it and jump into the ocean /forever/." The gills fluttering alongside hir neck at this statement suggest that ze possibly has the capability for permanent ocean-living, too. "... or at least all summer." Ze gets hir tea and food, now, turning to whisk these things off to a nearby table and set them down. Ze doesn't actually sit, just leans against the back of the chair to still face towards Rasa at the counter. "We're all going to die anyway. I mean, between zombies and crazy murderface cults and horrible bigots I just. The apocalypse is /getting/ here it's really just like catastrophes racing each other to see who gets to kill us first." Hir claws rattle quietly against the chair ze leans on, gills fluttering briefly again. "... /huh/. I'll have to remember -- my brother and I can be pretty sneaky. And planes don't really, you know. Let us --" Ze gestures absently towards hir face without a whole lot more explanation needed to offer the /other/ two Very Obvious Mutants. "Pretty hot," Vi allows of the city. But the remedy for that--and the listed calamities that follow--appears to be scooping up another fingerful of cream to deposit in her mouth. That humming sense of contentment doesn't fade. Not while she finally claims a plastic fork from the little fork bin, not while she turns from the counter, not while she deposits herself quite normally in a chair at the table claimed by B. Digging into the cobbler follows immediately. "I'm not gonna die," she says eventually to rejoin the conversation. "You'll jinx yourselves." This, with a chiding fork wag after its current load of pastry and fruit goodness has been offloaded. Rasa soon gets hir food and heads over to the table that B claims, settling in to a chair as well. Ze sets down hir plate and cup before reaching up to fluff hir hair a little, peeling it off hir scalp in what looks like a strange, too-much-product hair style. "Unfortunately, there's not a ton of waterways connecting the larger parts of continents. It might be more trouble than its worth to take a boat to the west coast." Ze peeks under the top of hir sandwich at the flat slabs of mozzarella, hir face paling further at the mention of murderface cults. A couple deep breaths follow as ze sits back in hir chair, grabbing hir drink to take a long sip as ze glances out the door. Naaah. Ze's not really checking the exits. Really. "Dunno if I'd really call it jinxing as a fair assessment of our survival rate, given the facts at hand." Hir voice holds notes of stiffness that relaxes the longer ze speaks. "But we could be more positive, I guess." Ze looks over at B. "Yeah but I could take a boat to Georgia. Or take a boat to /Europe/. I've never left the country, it could be cool. I mean, I /could/ swim but, uh. It'd take a /while/. How long does swimming the Atlantic take?" B digs a phone out of hir pocket as ze sits down, directing the question to the phone instead -- "How long would it take to swim across the Atlantic Ocean?" Hir brows lift as ze flicks at the phone screen. "Huh. Some /human/ did it in seventy-three days. Eight hours of swimming a day. Breaks on a sailboat to sleep. I bet we could do it in less than /half/ that. Be a fun way to spend summer break." Hir small black claws lengthen, stretching out so that ze can spear a piece of corned beef on the tip of one and chomp it hungrily. "We were jinxed since we were born. I'm just being realistic." Ze sounds more amused at this than anything else, even if hir dark eyes flick to Rasa with a thinner /press/ of that small smile. Maybe it's easy to discount the prospect of death when one has nine lives. Violet's appetite goes unsoured by rebuttals. The cobbler is just that /good/, and she isn't shy in expressing it, with a low purr that continues through bites and chewing and swallowing and then on into speaking again. "Your daddy's recipe just about beats all I've had before," she says--none too shy, either, in giving the conversation a tug to less dire topics. She isn't oblivious to the subtle cues going across the table but she's careless of them, choosing instead to focus on the good and curiosities. Here's a shark, and Rasa... "You an octopus? Mimic octopus, wasn't it? Going underwater, it'd be less boring than sailing over it, I bet. Not much to do, stowing away above." "You want to do that next year? After we graduate?" Rasa asks, studying B. "We could charter a sail boat for less waterbreathing friends and make a real adventure of it." Ze turns back to Violet, manufacturing some energy rather than getting lost in the thing bothering hir. "Oh, no. not really. I mean, I've acquired some animalistic aspects from my friends as of late, but underneath it all, I tend toward a little more bland, yet colorful roots. Two arms, two legs, one head, hair on the top of my head. I think that's ... more basic me." Ze is thoughtful. "Does Taylor breathe underwater? I can't remember." B beams bright and cheery at Violet, proud as though /ze/ made the cobbler hirself. "He's pretty great," ze says brightly, digging into the pile of corned beef with a more fervent hunger. Ze scrapes half the sauerkraut off but mixes the rest with the beef, the whole pile starting to vanish into hir very toothy mouth at a somewhat uncivilized rate. Hir eyes flick between the other, listening to them; eventually hir tongue swipes at hir lips and ze downs a gulp of tea before speaking. "That sounds like /basically/ the most perfect kind of adventure. I'm game." Hir head shakes at the question of Taylor. "S'got bigger lungs? Can't breathe though. Just can hold his breath for longer than most people. Sucks for him, though, his skin needs the water as much as I do. Mutations are kind of dumb. Really inefficient. I guess /regular/ bodies are pretty shoddily designed too, though. I'll be glad when we've perfected all the robo-updates. I could do with some extra limbs anyway." Violet's eyes travel over those parts named by Rasa, what she can see of them--arms, head, hair. "Acquired," rolls from her tongue, butter-sweet and amused. Duly noted! And then? Then there is talk of chartering boats. Of robo-updates. Extra limbs. And that talking phone...? Bemused, though mildly so, she concentrates as they speak with scraping up the last of the cobbler into her mouth. Licking black lips proves her tongue to be every bit as pink as one might expect of her own set of inefficiences. "Ya'll are maybe the oddest bunch've folk I've had the pleasure to meet," she says as fork is laid neatly at rest over the empty plate. On that note, she stands and goes through the habitual ritual of zipping the hoodie, of pulling up the hood. "But thank you for the cobbler. Pass that on?" The please goes unspoken, she's already sliding away from the table towards the door. Rasa finally gets around to picking up hir sandwich as B bounces between explaining Taylor's situation and beginnings of a summer plan for next year. "Is he going to sleep over at your place? We could get him a head or shoulder bracing pillow to keep his head above water and just let his body float while he sleeps --- Oh." Ze refocuses on Violet with a smile as she starts to leave. "Yeah, acquired. I am a strange one. S'alright. Glad it's been a pleasure. You have a good day and I'll see you around, yeah?" B just shrugs a shoulder at the question of Taylor sleeping over. "Dunno. My place is mostly just built for us." Ze tips hir head up to Violet, hir smile warming again. "We /pretty/ much are a huge bunch of freaks," ze agrees happily. "Just totally giant weirdofaces. Nice to meet you." Ze waggles a webbed hand in a friendly wave. "Be careful out there it's hot as -- as --" An analogy fails hir, shoulder just shrugging before ze finishes meekly. "... really hot. Ohgosh and I'm going to have to go back out in it soon I'm still supposed to be working. I need like a -- motorized aquarium. Hey. Maybe I'll build one." "An aquarium suit, with little snacks floating along inside your clothes?" Rasa's eyebrows waggle as ze asks, resting hir elbows on the table and grinning at the concept. "That I would like to see." B snorts as ze polishes off the pile of corned beef, actually picking up hir spoon to start in on the chili. "Tiny fishes. Would have to get new ones all the time I mean even /without/ eating them they wouldn't love all the jostling much. But no I was thinking like a driveable -- tank. I wonder if anyone would notice if I worked on making /that/ at work. Kinda, um, a niche market I don't imagine we'll actually produce them any time soon." "Just because it is highly specialized, doesn't mean that other people won't want customized mutation comforts. Yeah, mass production isn't really an option, but it's still marketable conceptually." Rasa takes another sip of hir coffee, the sandwich still posing problems. "Here's what I was thinking: You could keep your suit in an aquarium of tiny algea eating fish that would keep it clean for you, on the inside. Maybe you're not too careful about making sure they are all out before putting it on." "Highly specialized means you can't mass-produce it means we probably aren't gonna be touching that market with a ten-foot pole. But --" B's eyes widen as ze mows through hir chili, gills fluttering. "Wait I can't. Tell anymore if we're talking seriously or just. Being silly." "Ah, but mass marketing the custom option might..." Rasa lifts hir sandwich to hir mouth and then adds, "I'm being silly. Apologies. I mean, it might work, but it's a tough sell and likely not worth the effort. How 'bout, instead, we talk about somewhat serious plans to cross the ocean." Ze then finally takes a bite.