ArchivedLogs:Real Dinner

Real Dinner
Dramatis Personae Allison, Jax, Spencer	2017-08-06 "He can skive off as much as he wants to and never get in /any/ trouble."
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. It's a balmy summer's evening and the cafe is neither crowded nor deserted, most its patrons regulars who've come for somewhere quiet to sketch or write or browse. Spencer has been popping in and out, somewhat literally, this time appearing with a big stack of clean napkins to refill a dispenser at the end of the counter. He's wearing a black t-shirt with a big red numeral '5' on the chest (on closer inspection, the '5' contains the silhouette of an X-Wing making the trench run on the Death Star), jean shorts, and very worn gray sneakers. The doors to the cafe opens to reveal Allison as she heads inside. Today she's wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a baggy gray sweater that hangs off one shoulder. Across her chest is pink words that say: Love Everyone (and I mean everyone). She slips her backpack off and opens it up once she takes a seat at a table, pulling a notebook out and a couple of pens. Opening to a blank page, she scribbles down a few lines, cupping her chin in the palm of her free hand. Jax is just slipping out from behind the counter, having snagged a cupcake (piled high with lemony icing underneath which a tinge of red sauce can be seen) from behind he display case. Probably he hasn't paid for it. He's dressed far brighter than Spencer -- enormous wide-legged purple and black UFO pants, a lime green fishnet tank layered over a sparkly black one, his hair elaborately fanned and spiked up bird-of-paradise style (and dyed in bright oranges and reds and purple-blues to match), gleaming metallic-purple makeup highlighting his face, enormous mirrored sunglasses on his eyes (despite being indoors, at night). "Honey-honey!" his molasses-thick drawl is in heavy evidence in his words as he -- almost catches up with Spencer, turns, finds his son Somewhere Else now. Traipses down toward /that/ end of the room now to lean against a table beside Allison's. "Can you sit for /just/ a tick an' get some dinner into you?" HOPEFULLY he isn't referring to the cupcake. And yet it is just that that he is waggling enticingly at Spence. Spencer looks just about ready to dive into some other task, but hesitates. Narrows his eyes to /consider/ the cupcake. Vanishes from sight altogether again, only to reappear at the table across from Jax a few moments later with a glass of milk. "I'll eat, but /you/ should eat too, I ate earlier but you didn't eat /anything/. I just wanted to restock some stuff so they don't have as much to do tomorrow morning, /no/ one likes having to a lot of stuff on Monday morning right?" Somehow he manages this entire sentence on one breath. He glances sidelong at Allison, his gaze idly curious, his smile friendly. Hunched over her notebook, Allison continues to work along the paperwork with her pen, writing lyrics in perfect, swirling cursive. She taps her pen against her jawline after she gets stuck for a moment, then glances upwards at the voices near her table. She looks from Spencer to Jax, letting her eyes linger upon him a bit longer as she looks over at the many piercings and colorful images of ink that she can see. She offers a brief, polite smile at the pair before tucking some hair behind her ear and dropping her gaze back down to her work. "I ate three cookies," Jackson protests, sinking down more properly into a seat. He sets the cupcake on the table, swiping a finger through the top of the icing and licking it off. "I think Flicker likes having things to do on Monday mornings," he decides. "But he don't work here. You're right they're like to appreciate it." His cheeks puff out, considering. "I don't gotta be back in court till Tuesday. We could do something fun with /our/ Monday, if you want." Spencer narrows his eyes /suspiciously/ at his father as he picks up the cupcake and peels off the rainbow-swirled liner. "Cookies," he declares "are just a snack. /Cupcakes/ are dinner." He breaks the cupcake apart, somehow managing to only get a small amount of compote on his hands, and offers one half to Jax while shoving the other rather unceremoniously into his face. His eyes go wide at the suggestion, but it still takes him a bit of jawing to swallow his food before he can answer. "That would be great we should do /all/ the fun. We can go to the beach, rockclimbing, put up some art..." He chews on his icing-smeared lip. "...go see ông and bà." Jax tips the half of his cupcake sideways to stop its strawberry-compote filling from leaking out now that it is broken open. Mooshing the icing messily over its broken side, he starts to nibble at his cupcake a bit more carefully than Spencer. He's slow to answer, taking his time over the cupcake (which is leaking its compote messily onto his palm.) "We could go rockclimbing down by the farm," he suggests, lightly, after swallowing. "M'sure Ma and Pa would be /thrilled/ if we actually turned up for dinner, Ma's been fretting nonstop." Spencer licks the icing from his lips and scrubs off what he can't reach with the back of his hand. "Maybe Steve could come, too? You said you wanted to take him." His tone is cautious, here, /maybe/ a little hopeful. Then, with more bravado again, "/Anyway/, bà would make sure you eat enough can you /imagine/ the look on her face if she heard you had three cookies and half a cupcake for dinner? Not that I'm gonna snitch!" he adds hastily. "He might actually have work tomorrow like a normal person but." Jax's cheeks flush, faintly. "But I'd like him along, if he weren't. I could ask. Be good for him to meet m'folks under --" Frown. "/Slightly/ better conditions." His brows hike up, abruptly, nose wrinkling up. "Oh /gosh/ you wouldn't tell --" The hasty addition makes him laugh, breaking off with a shake of his head. "She'd find a early grave. -- What about soup? Some chili? We could get you some /real/ dinner." Spencer's eye-roll is not quite teenage-quality, though he's clearly been working on it. "He can skive off as much as he wants to and never get in /any/ trouble. Besides he probably has /tons/ more vacation days than he'll ever use. At least /ask/ him." He rises and balls up the cupcake liner, which disappears from his hand. "Chili," he says decisively, his grin mischievous. "I mean I already /had/ dinner but I'm ready for a snack. C'mon."