ArchivedLogs:Wildly Inappropriate

Wildly Inappropriate
Conversations with Strangers
Dramatis Personae Micah, Rogue	April 20, 2013 Rogue sits at a table with Micah and...gets some /interesting/ conversation out of it.
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Tucked down an alley, this out of the way coffeeshop is easy to miss if you don't know what you're looking for. Unassuming from the outside, its inside makes up for it -- spacious, with abundant seating and plenty of plush couches and cosy armchairs along the room's edges. The coffee is good, the prices are cheap, and there is a definitive alternative vibe to the room, from the music they play to the art that hangs on the walls. The real draw to this place, though, stems from its client base -- one of the very few businesses in the city that is welcoming to mutants, Evolve has become widely popular as a hangout with that crowd, and it is quite common to see them among clientele and employees both. At night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits over the coffeehouse. Another delightful Spring day is winding into a pleasant evening, growing a bit chilly as the sun makes his bright, blushing exit and takes the day’s warmth along with him. It is still too early for the club crowd to begin filtering in to pass the night upstairs. Business in the coffeeshop is bustling away, however, with numerous tables filled with chatting people and a short line at the counter. Micah has already set up camp at a table, with a tall chai and a blueberry muffin in front of him. He is wearing a sunset-appropriate red-and-orange collared shirt, unbuttoned over a plain white tee and patched jeans that are a little grease-smudged. His green canvas jacket is thrown casually over the back of the chair. The muffin is being slowly pick-pecked to death. Rogue slips in from outside, the last lingering rays of the sun playing up the red undertones in deep auburn strands, maybe making the white streak seem more of an affected bleached thing done on purpose. There's a gray zip up half zipped over a green and black t-shirt, a pair of still being broken in jeans and boots. There's a glance around, a nervous quickness to her movements as Rogue steps up to the counter, gloved fingers hidden as much as possible other than getting her money out to pay for her tall, flavored coffee drink, and a banana muffin. Sadly, there isn't much in the way of an actual seat without asking someone if they mind sharing a table, so after a quick scan, Rogue makes her choice, heading towards the young man in red and orange. "Hey, would you mind if Ah took this seat?" Micah looks up from his war of attrition with the muffin, his smile glowy-bright at the sound of Rogue’s accent. He actually takes to his feet, training ingrained about standing until a lady sits. “Sure thing, hon. Always glad for a little comp’ny. How’s the day findin’ you?” Rogue blinks a touch at the rising and the smile and everything. "Ya can't be a native." She drawls, sinking into the chair. It must be her time hitching and living in Yankee country has made her a cynic. "Well, it's almost over, and it's been pretty good. No complaints. You?" The smile transmutes into a more playful grin as Micah plunks back into his seat. "Aw, gee, what gave it away this time?" he jokes. "But you'd be right. Ain't been here but about...8 months or so, I think. Sounds like y'might be a transplant, yourself?" He nods at her reply and reciprocating of the inquiry. "Pretty good! Got called in t'help at m'buddy's garage where I work from time to time. One o' his regulars called out sick. So's been a busy enough day." He still has a lingering scent of the shop about him, sharp reminders of metal and petroleum products. "You stood up until Ah sat down, and ya don't /sound/ native." Rogue jokes, taking a sip of her coffee. "Originally from Mississippi, but been around, then came here. Been here a while." Eyes brighten, her head tipping just a bit. "You're a mechanic? Ah'm looking into it, taking some classes." A gloved hand is offered over. "Ah'm Rogue." “Rightright. Shortly out of Virginia…the southern part, not ‘Lower D.C.’” Micah offers, as if explanation were needed. “Y’got me beat on actual Southern, though, it’d seem.” He’s nodding again at her next question. “Yep…well, mostly. I been workin’ shops since forever. M’pops owns a place back home. It’s more of a moonlightin’ gig for me now, though.” He takes her hand in his own, giving it a firm greeting shake. “Micah. Nice t’meet you.” Rogue chuckles. "Virginian huh? And Ah like things that are mechanical. Only moonlightin'? Got some other gig, or somethin'?" She's curious, but trying not to be too pushy. "Pleasure is mine." Micah giggles at himself, clarifying when asked. “Still mechanical, just fancied up a bit. Medical assistive tech. I do orthotics and prosthetics, primarily. You employed in mechanical-type things or more of a hobbyist?” He pinches another bit of muffin off of the crumbly mess on his plate to munch on. "Now that's interestin'." Rogue says with animation to her voice as she sets to peeling wrapper off her muffin. "Ah wanted to do like...physical therapy and things, when Ah was younger. All kinds of things." There's a hint of a smile and a blush. "Just really getting into working on engines. Ah just graduated high school a few months ago. Haven't been sure where Ah wanna go." “Does keep a person on their toes…no borin’ work days ever,” Micah agrees with a smile. He does most things with a smile, really. “PT’s are pretty good folks as a bunch. I work with a lot of ‘em, in my line.” Her blush earns a broadening of his smile. “Y’thinkin’ about school, or workin’ first?” "Yeah well... working in the medical field isn't for me. Ah think engines are the only guts Ah want to get into, anymore." Rogue's smile grows to echo his, which is somewhat notable. "Truth is, Ah don't know. Tired of school, can't really afford to go to college sort of situation, all that. Thinking of getting into a trade school, like becoming a mechanic." “Machines’re fun to dig into. ‘Specially if you like solvin’ problems hands-on. S’a lot of similarities, mechanics and medicine. One’s just a lot squishier’n the other.” Micah chuckles at this. “Sounds like a good start of a plan. ‘Specially if y’got someone showin’ you the ropes. S’nice to have a guide through the practical bits o’ things.” "And there's no blood, bile, urine..." Rogue drawls before a bite of her muffin, eyes bright with joking. "Ah have a couple someones who are good with machines and their hands showin' me. They jus' wanna help me figure out what Ah wanna do. Ah'm lucky." “Got their own fluids…conveniently less infectious, though inconveniently more corrosive in some cases.” Micah’s nose crinkles at his own continuing analogy. “Good with machines, good with hands, helpful, and offerin’ guidance. That’s about the lucky jackpot, m’dear. Good on you.” He salutes Rogue with his cup in a jocular fashion before proceeding to sip from it. Rogue chuckles, a faint shake of her head. "Ah have other reasons too, but those will do." She lifts her cup in a like fashion, smirking. "Ah didn't even mention they were good lookin'!" Micah answers Rogue’s chuckling with genuine laughter of his own. “Oh my /word/, child, but whatever kind o’ points y’want? I think y’win /all/ of ‘em.” That smirk lingers, even though it lessens a bit. "Too bad one of them is taken and the other... well, he's complicated. Heck, /Ah'm/ complicated." Gloved fingers run though her hair. "So just decided to come to the big city, then?" “Ev’rybody’s complicated in their own ways. Y’just figure out a way to get the complicateds to work together after awhile.” Micah’s hands are busying themselves with decimating the last remnants of his muffin. It apparently has done something that caused it to deserve /suffering/. Bad muffin karma. “I been plannin’ on movin’ out of Virginia since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Headed up this way once I got it in m’head to start my own business. Seemed a good time to do it all at once… An’ I knew some folks up this way.” "Mine doesn't...exactly work out with anyone else." Rogue says quietly, a glance at her gloved hand. "Ah can't touch people." It comes out with a touch of effort, eyes watching Micah from under her lashes. "Ah know the feelin'. Since middle school, had this trip north to Alaska planned. Only made it to Alberta, though." "Seems like y'did okay with the gloves on." Micah holds his hand out, wiggling his fingers, to indicate the handshake from earlier. "But, yeah, I can see how havin' t'have barriers all the time would be...I'm gonna understate and go with /obnoxious/." He doesn't push for additional whys and wherefores on her inability to touch. "You were so close! Alphabetically speakin'," he teases with a little smirk playing about his lips. "Yeah. Can't touch skin. It...sucks. Kinda hard to go on a date and tease a guy with a good night kiss, when ya can't kiss him or ya might kill him." There's a bitter twist in her tone, and to her lips. "So /close/! ...yet so far." "Mmm...that sounds pretty awful," Micah concedes with a headshake. "How much y'need between you an' another person t'be safe? Liquid latex can be your friend." That apparently came out of his mouth before any chance at a filter happened. "OHGOSH, I'm sorry, that was wildly inappropriate." He clamps a hand over his mouth as his skin shifts through shades of red at an impressive rate. Rogue coughs on her sip of coffee, going quite red herself. One gloved hand makes a muted slap against the table, the other waving in front of her face. Then she's chuckling, gasping for air. "Ah...Ah have... no idea." Ohgood, at least she seems to be amused? Her blush sends his further into crimson territory, however. “It /would/ be a difficult thing to experiment with. I mean…unless y’got your hands on someone with miraculous healin’ powers or somethin’.” Micah looks vaguely surprised that he is /still talking/ about this. Rogue bites her lip, eyes lowered to the table again. A sip of her coffee to try and soothe her throat a bit. "Never thought about um... liquid latex. Though Ah do know someone who might be able to help like that." Micah’s eyes widen slightly, but he is back to grinning. His cheeks remain heartily red. “Help…with the latex or the experimentin’?” Rogue shakes her head. "Ah... um... he's a healin' type, Ah mean. Ah... Ah don't know what he'd say, if Ah asked him about the ..umm latex." Micah sips again from his cup, his shoulders rising and falling in a shrug. “S’pose it can’t hurt to ask.” He looks thoughtfully into his muffin crumbs for a moment before clearly tickling himself with something. “Heehee…don’t guess latex allergies would be a concern with a healin’ type.” Rogue shrugs, a glance away from him. "Ah don't think he'd have an issue with it. But um…don't know how that conversation would go." Micah nods in understanding. “Hard to tell with other people, shorta strikin’ up the conversation to begin with.” "Well, he's my best friend an' all, but.. well, how do ya ask someone to help ya test liquid latex for...intimacy reasons?" Rogue asks, brows arching. Micah’s teeth meet with his lower lip for a bit while he thinks that over. Clearly there is not going to be an opportunity for him to de-red himself any time soon. “I would discuss the intimacy part first…then bring up the technical details after. Because the second part is irrelevant unless y’both are seein’ eye to eye on the first, yeah?” "Well, he'd be willin' to see if latex worked...the um...level of intimacy might be somethin' different." There's a sip of coffee, then a roll of her eyes. "Gawd, is this conversation actually happenin'?" What with starting out in crimson territory, Micah is now all but /glowing/ with scarlet blush. “Ohgosh, ohgosh. I’m sorry! This was wildly inappropriate when it was a blurt-out kinda. I’m sorry. I don’t know you like… Ohgosh.” Rogue shakes her head, gloved hand waving. "It's fine. Ah just...Ah end up in the oddest conversations. " She can't help grinning. Micah smiles shyly over the rim of his coffee cup. “I do, too… I just try not to /awkward/ so hard at people I only /just/ met.” Rogue shrugs, smiling at her coffee. "Trust me, Ah've had worse moments. An' you aren't being mean or nothin', so Ah'll take it." Fingers snake through Micah’s hair, which is already taking on more hints of red with increased sun exposure, mussing it worse. “Well, I can certainly manage not-mean. Apparently can’t promise not-inappropriate.” He chuckles, a light, self-deprecating sort of chuckle. “You’re a good sport.” "If ya ever meet my best friend, you'll see why inappropriate isn't a problem." Rogue offers with a grin, before she polishes off her coffee. "That's me! Rogue, good sport and willing ear. But Ah should get, before someone realizes Ah'm gone. Nice to meet you, Micah. Maybe Ah'll see ya around." She gets up, giving him a wave before she's moving towards the door. “You, too. Have a good evenin’!” Micah stands long enough for Rogue to make her exit, offering a wave in return as she makes her way out the door.