Logs:In Which the Apocalypse Has Not Yet Stopped Fashion, But Does Briefly Stop A Video Chat

In Which the Apocalypse Has Not Yet Stopped Fashion, But Does Briefly Stop A Video Chat
Dramatis Personae Daiki, Taylor	2020-03-26 "It's hard to tell what I should find surreal, anymore."
Location Skype
It is solidly the middle of the afternoon when an incoming call pings Daiki's Skype. Right smack in the middle of working hours but then, what is time lately anyway? Clearly, not something Taylor cares much about right now. Usually he waits till evening but! Psh. Daiki answers the call in short order, dressed as though he were, in fact, at work -- a gleaming white broadcloth shirt with a metallic blue tie tucked into a sensible black vest. He is fresh-faced and clean-shaven, his glossy black hair neatly tied back, black-framed glasses polished to a subtle shine. Behind him, his living room has been converted to a home office, the camera positioned such that he is framed between two calligraphy scrolls and not some of the more colorful art elsewhere on those walls. "Hi," Daiki says, lapsing for just a moment into his artfully pleasant customer service face before smiling an actual smile that looks just a bit tired. "I'm sorry in advance if I get called away, but hopefully I'm done with meetings for the day. How are you?" Taylor, on the other hand, is dressed like WHATEVER, his tatty old Golden State Warriors hoodie looking long past due for a wash. It's not entirely clear where he is -- outdoors, from the wind rush background noise, though around him there's only the dingy grey of a cement wall. "You good, you good. Fashion don't stop for no apocalypse, huh?" "Fashion is slowing down dramatically for the apocalypse," Daiki hedges. "Let's call it a rolling stop. The shows are all going virtual, if they haven't been postponed or cancelled. The bigger houses will be fine, the smaller ones..." His slender shoulders give a minute shrug. "Some have filed for bankruptcy already." Though his face is effortlessly schooled to neutrality by long practice, Taylor can likely see the tension in the set of his neck and shoulders. "There's plenty of damage to control and ruffled feathers to smooth, but this is all kind of abstract compared to what your folks are dealing with down there." "Please tell me someone's putting out a good end of the world line. Apocalypse chic. Make sure we got all the right fits when we forming our street gangs." Taylor's eyes lower, his head rolling back against the wall. "We're surviving. Some of us. Food situation's been a bit..." His shrug is a little too casual, as is his addition, "Anole's got sick. Could be nothing." "It's high fashion -- clothes that look cobbled together from whatever you could salvage from the ruins has been a solid niche since the '80s." Daiki's chuckle is thin. "I haven't seen anything specific to this apocalypse, but admittedly it's come on fast." Bows his head slightly. "I pray it is -- nothing. Do you know how Mendel is on testing at the moment?" He frowns. "I can help. With the food -- at least to tide you over until first harvest from the gardens." "Tch." Taylor sucks at his teeth dismissively. "Man, they ain't eem a hospital. Test kits for the freak clinic ain't a real high priority for this city, we balls deep in real people dying." His picture shifts erratically as he moves, resettles, hitches one knee up against his chest. Wraps his arm more snug around his phone and carefully re-balances it for a more stable camera angle. "How swamped you been today? You catch the news?" "I was kind of hoping someone had social engineered some out of Health and Mental Hygiene," Daiki replies grimly. "Or procured some other way." He waits for Taylor to resettle himself, scrunches up half of his face. "Pretty swamped, but I have my news alerts are well-curated. I know about the APB." He shakes his head slightly. "It's weird for them to be gunning so hard for someone they'd risk that kind of exposure, but it's hard to tell what I should find surreal, anymore." "Iono what kind of clowns they got working for 'em. Nobody like you, s'for damn sure." This time when Taylor sucks his teeth, it's harder, short and sharp, his lip curling up in disgust. "Think they like doing things aboveboard. Ion though, he got our dogs some'a them. Not near enough, round the clock we full up." One slim arm rubs at the top of his head, his cheek pillowed against its side. "Is weird. Must be he got 'em scared, nah? You think there some truth in it? They leave Jax, they leave Hive, but this guy? City wide manhunt." His teeth flash sudden and bright, stark against his inky skin. "Maybe he kill someone important there. World owes us some good news for once." "I feel like they could have found someone to do that social engineering for them, even if just for this particular crisis. But I guess it's a bit much to expect them to advocate for patients no one else is going to care about." Daiki gives a quiet hum of consideration. "I really have no idea, though if there is I would guess was that they were nearing some kind of breakthrough...using him to work on this virus. Maybe they were getting ready to ship him off to the CDC." His smile is more sedate. "I suppose that's a possibility, too, though. They were conveniently vague about what that federal contractor was doing at a Rikers facility. I don't imagine he was a graphic designer or a software engineer." He splays his hands before him in a gesture of helplessness. "There's just no way to know." "'speck soon enough we gon find out. They want him this bad -- that's gon be more than just his problem, soon." Taylor's tongue presses up under his upper lip. He studies his screen in thoughtful silence a moment, before: "Yuh see the description dem give for he?" His head shakes, brows furrowing. "You be careful. Cops out here, they're already twitchy motherfuckers." Daiki's lips press into a thin line. "We'll have to see just how soon." The nod he gives by way of reply is stiff and jerky. "I saw, and I think I might have to hop on that already very crowded ordering-groceries-online bandwagon. It's not just going to be cops who --" His brows gather ever so slightly. "Banana phone?" he blurts, bewildered. "Sorry. I thought I was done with meetings for the day." He taps his temple with his index and middle fingers. "You sure you don't need my help with the food? I come leave you groceries on your fire escape. People they do not have a problem Social Distancing from me, I walk around unbothered now." There's a tightness around Taylor's eyes, an edge to his smile, that suggests this may not be the entire truth. His brows pull way up. "Banana phone?" he echoes right after Daiki. "Da fuck?" Only part of his confusion clears up after this. "You want I should go? I -- really can't tell if bananaphone is an important meeting." "I'll accept that offer on the condition you let me buy some stuff for you, while we're at it. I'd be paying someone else to do it otherwise." Daiki tries to smile, but flinches, raising his hand to his temple again, less glibly this time. "It's..." His face has gone pale and bloodless. The pause goes on for several beats. "...pretty important. I'm sorry." Hesitant now. "Would you mind calling again later?" "Never gonna say no to free food." Taylor's smile flees his face as he watches the shift of Daiki's expression. One slender arm lifts to touch lightly to the screen. "Yeah. Yeah, man, I got'chu. Stay safe."