Logs:Room Service

Room Service
Dramatis Personae Polaris, Ryan, Wendy, Winona	2019-08-19 "It's got at least two flavors."
Location 305 - Village Lofts - East Village
It's been a surprisingly quiet day or so since the chaos of the escape. Wendy has spent a lot of it by turns sleeping and absorbed in the very well stocked Kindle that has been given to her. She's, right now, curled up in an enormous beanbag in a batik-dyed sarong with rainbow flowers and dragonflies and a soft red tee reading ALL MY HEROES HAVE FBI FILES around a picture of a monkey wrench, considerably baggy on her petite frame. In her hands is a metal contraption that looks very much like an orchid mantis; she's turning the robot bug over slowly and curiously. Polaris is pacing--has been pacing since she got out of the shower, having slept long but fitfully before that. She's wearing an oversized black t-shirt that reads 'Let's Switch Gender Roles' and loose black gi pants, her hair a chaos of damp forest green tresses, a combat knife hovering inches above the curved palm of her left hand. Coming to an abrupt stop in front of the window, she stares outside. Sucks in a sharp breath and turns away, the knife dropping lightly into her palm where she twirls it once, twice. Belly-flops onto the unoccupied beanbag next to Wendy. "Technology's come a long way," she says, her voice slightly muffled, gesturing at the mantis bot without looking at it. "Haven't seen any flying cars, but I'm low-key hoping for jet packs." Knock knock knock! It's firm but not commanding, and comes nearly at the same time as a cheerful voice outside. "Room service! If anyone's hungry, that is. I can leave it." Outside, Ryan is barefoot, in black denim shorts and a dark purple tee that reads 'Social Justice Bard' and, beneath, 'rallying the revolution'. He's carrying a large wooden tray balanced against a hip, several big glass snap-top food containers stacked atop together with a large pitcher. Winona peeks out of the room she had claimed, her eyes a bit puffy, upon hearing the knocking. At seeing Polaris and Wendy occupying the beanbags, she gestures to the door to indicate that she'll get it. She has on a black band t-shirt and a pair of khaki pants. "Hey, who is it?" she calls through the door as she opens it just slightly ajar in order to make out who is in the hallway, but pushes it open a bit further upon seeing the answer herself. An expression of recognition and confusion appears on her face. "Uh, sure. I could eat." "There was a dragonfly in the kitchen. I think it might actually fly. Cars are -- something else, though." Wendy runs her finger along one of the mantis's petal-like wings. She freezes at the knock, looking first to Polaris and then Winona and then the door. Her hands have tightened around the bot, her expression also frozen in wide eyed uncertainty -- that relaxes, quick and oddly relieved, when Winona handles Making A Decision and opens the door. "Um, food? Food would be -- good, I guess. Thanks. They said we could take stuff in the fridge but..." She bites at her lip, head shaking. Polaris tenses at the knock, her eyes snapping to the door though her gaze focuses inward, and she relaxes a fraction of a second later. She voices no objection to Winona answering the door, though she does scramble into a slightly upright slouch, knife held loosely in her right hand. "Hey, thanks." She cranes her neck to see past Winona, and waves--with the non-knife-wielding hand--at the man in the doorway. Frowns. "Say...you look familiar." "Hey, yo, hope it's been comfortable. We made some gumbo, some jambalaya, some blueberry lemonade, some peach basil cobbler that's genuinely too die for that last is -- not," Ryan clarifies as he slips inside past Winona, "my doing, my desserts are tolerable at best." He's heading straight for the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, setting his tray down so that he can start lining up the containers. "There's no meat in it, sorry if anyone's keen. And it is kosher, a little bird told us that would be preferred." Only after the food is out does he turn, lean back against the counter, his grin easy and bright. "I get that a lot. You never spent much time in Iceland, did you? Woman on my sheep farm out there looked a lot like you." Winona looks out past the door's threshold to check for anyone else who might be lurking out there, then closes it once Ryan comes inside. Her eyes widen slightly at the description of the food that was brought over, and she half grins while following. "Oh, for sure. Doesn't matter if it's got meat or not, so long as it's got some flavour. Been too long since..." She trails off and shrugs, glancing off to the window. Uncertainly, "You were a sheep farmer?" Wendy fixates on Ryan's shirt, watching as he unloads the food. "That's -- that all sounds amazing. You made..." She blinks, eyes lifting abruptly to the ceiling. "You made it kosher? That's... thank you." She's still holding the mantis as she stands. "You were a sheep farmer?" She echoes this nearly at the same time as Winona. Then looks to Polaris, brows raising. "You didn't farm sheep, did you?" Polaris rolls off of the beanbag, setting the knife down on the coffee table and wanders over to the counter where Ryan is setting out the meal. "Comfortable...yeah, um. It's--a big improvement." Her eyes dart to Wendy at her reaction, and a thin but genuine smile flashes across her face "This is amazing, thank you." She studies their visitor closely. "Never been to Iceland. Never been a sheep farmer, either--when the hell would I have managed that without you noticing?" She braces her hands on the countertop and cocks her head at Ryan. "But I'm sure I've seen you somewhere. What can we call you?" "It's got at least two flavors," Ryan assures Winona. The tray still holds silverware and some plates -- squarish, wavily edged, made in vibrantly colorful rainbow swirled fused glass with glittering silver flecked among the colors -- and variably colored glasses with dragonfly or hummingbird designs flitting through the smoked glass. Despite Ryan's understated promise, the dishes once opened are rich and redolent with the smells of spices. "I've been a lot a things. Sorry, I don't know where my manners are. I'm Ryan. I'm sorry we haven't done proper introductions yet, we thought maybe people might want some -- rest." "Rest has been good. Had the best sleep I've had in..." Winona studies Ryan a few moments, but he can't hold her attention longer than the smell of food with at least two flavors, and she carefully takes one of the plates, her fingers tracing over the surface for a moment before her hunger gets the better of her and she starts to dish up. Without looking up, she says, "I'm Winona- Sorry, Ryan? This might sound like a crazy question. Are you... Ryan Black?" The brightness that has stung Wendy's eyes back at the mention of kosher food only wells up further as she draws near and looks at the dishes. She sets the mantis down, hesitant before she picks up a purple hummingbird-decorated glass and fills it with lemonade. "Wendy," she offers quietly, "can I ask..." But Winona's question pauses her. She tilts her head to the side, studying Ryan curiously. Eyes flicking down to his shirt, back up to his face. "Oh, wow. Yeah, I think we saw you like. Six years ago in Baltimore raising money for the dock workers' strike?" She sips at the lemonade -- first tentatively, then her eyes widen and she takes a longer gulp. "How did you fall in with -- well, all this?" Polaris picks up one of the plates, tracing its wavy edges with her fingertips before heaping it with jambalaya. "Oh shit this all smells amazing," she says, starting to reach for a spoon even as the implement obediently flies to her hand. When Winona asks, her eyes go wide with recognition and she points emphatically at Wendy for her explanation. "Right, right! That show was awesome." She taps her cheek with the back of the spoon. "I think. I was high as fuck. Was it awesome?" she asks Wendy. Then remembers, and adds, "I'm Polaris." "Wait, you were at that show? That was a goddamn lifetime ago." Ryan leans back against the wall beside the counter. "I don't remember, I was high as fuck, too." His arms cross loosely over his chest, his eyes lifting to search the ceiling. "Same way a lot of people do. Woke up in a cage one day. I --got out of my lab about ten years ago, now. Kind of couldn't just sit back after that, right?" He looks back down, gives Winona a very quick quirk of smile. "This might sound like a crazy answer, but yes." Winona's eyebrows raise at receiving the crazy answer, though her response is just an almost disbelieving, "Geez." She purses her lips and pours a glass full of the blueberry lemonade. "So you were in one of the labs? Does that mean... that means you're a mutant?" Her eyebrows furrow down further as she processes this information. "And you broke out?" "Oh!" Wendy has gone to start filling her plate, but drops her spoon into the gumbo, her hand flying to her lips as her cheeks flush. "I'm sorry, I had no idea you also -- I wouldn't have just -- I thought you were just here to. Just." She bows her head, blush no less furious as she fishes the spoon back out. "Is everyone here... I just -- where are we? I know New York, but. People here are..." Her brows scrunch inward. "Safe?" "Whoa!" Polaris sets her plate down and leans forward. The intensity of her attention is almost physically sensible--probably is, to Ryan. "Shit. I'm sorry, that's fucked." She starts pacing again, food quite forgotten, her movements jangling with tension. "Pretty sure nowhere is safe, but I'm guessing we're going to run into other people around here who were also--" Stops abruptly, her eyes wide. "Wait, are you on Flicker's raid team?" "The East Village. It's just my friends' apartment, I'm right across the hall. It's not really any safer than anywhere else, there's just a lot of us around here so having some community helps. I'll get you list of who in this building you can talk to if you need anything, and what places nearby are more or less friendly." Ryan rubs a hand against the side of his cheek. "Yeah. To both of those. I didn't break out, though. Some people got us out of our lab and my friend and I started putting together a team to -- keep paying that forward. Been at it since." He hesitates, looking over the other three thoughtfully before he continues. "I've been doing this a while and as far as I've heard you all are the first people to ever manage a full lab escape on your own. We figured you might want some downtime before... reliving any of that trauma but. Some of us are dying to hear more about how you did it. It's pretty much the most badass thing I've heard." Winona puts down the pitcher, but does not pick up either the glass or the plate, instead staring down at them, silent while Ryan talks but clearly listening and trying to sort through what he is saying. "I'll be willing to tell about it once I process everything a bit more." She bites her bottom lip for a second. "I don't even know what to do right now. I don't even know what I can do, like, are we fugitives? Is the government looking for us? It'll be a bit before I can put everything to words." She exhales sharply and picks up her plate and glass. "Putting together a team?" Wendy hands her filled plate to Polaris, taking the one Polaris set down to get her own meal. "Do you mean -- are you --" She's looking at Ryan with a bit more intensity of her own. Her eyes soon drop, though, her cheeks deep crimson. "It didn't feel badass, it felt terrifying." Polaris watches Ryan raptly as he speaks, accepting the plate from Wendy and beginning to eat without comment. There's a suggestion of long habit to how naturally this happens. "Could be badass and terrifying," she mutters. "I would have liked more badass and less--" The rest of the breath she was speaking with leaves her in a soft hiss, and metal objects all around the room rattle ominously. "Anyway, we didn't do it totally on our own. You...founded the raid team." There's only a very slight lift to her intonation, and her brows. "So, where do I sign up?" "I know. It's a lot. And you don't have to talk about it now or -- ever, really." Ryan's brows knit, and he exhales slowly. "I wish I could tell you something really encouraging, like that you're just home free now, but it's not that straightforward. I can say that in most cases, people we've gotten out, Prometheus generally does leave everyone alone to go back to... whatever kind of lives we can make for ourselves. They don't actively hunt us down, usually. What they do kind of seriously skirts the edges of legality, and they haven't seemed keen to turn it into the kind of public fight they'd get if they came after us directly. But that doesn't mean --" He bites down on his lip, head slowly shaking. "If they have reason to be particularly wary of your specific powers sometimes they're brasher about coming for you. And if you have run ins with authority in future there's no guarantee you won't get sent back there after an arrest, a hospitalization, what have you. We try our damndest to keep in touch with everyone we've gotten out regardless of where you land up, so they can't just disappear our people over a fucking drunk and disorderly a year down the road." His smile is small, wan and kind of apologetic. "It's a lot to process all at once. Whenever you're up to it we can have someone sit down with you and talk more in depth about where you want to go from here and what you need to know. Everyone always thinks about smashing walls in when they think raids but you have no fucking idea how good we've gotten at wading through paperwork." His brows lift; he looks to Polaris curiously. "Are you serious? Cause at this exact moment we could probably use about ten more people on kitchen duty than we currently have, if everyone's gonna keep eating." The rattling prompts Winona to look around with slightly furrowed eyebrows, more concerned than startled. She listens intently to Ryan, but takes her first bite of the food around the tail end of what he is saying and her eyes widen and a small smile appears. “Not sure if it’s just because I’ve had nothing but cardboard fare for the longest time, but I think this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” It’s only a moment before her expression hardens again, her lips pursed, agreeing with the others. “It was terrifying... it still doesn’t even feel real. I still need to tell my parents I’m not dead.” A shudder passes up through her body as she remembers how real a possibility that was. “Think I’ll need a sec. Before helping in the kitchen. But I’ll let you know when I’m ready.” Wendy looks briefly to Polaris at the rattling. She pours another glass of lemonade, sliding it nearer to Polaris before taking her own plate and glass and returning to sink back into the beanbag. "Specific powers." Her brows crease, deep. "Do you know where Leo's staying? You should probably make sure he's safe." She scoops up a spoonful of gumbo, her eyes squeezing shut as she eats it. There's a soft hum in her throat, her toes curling against the floor. "Thank you," she says, quietly. "I don't really know what I expected after we got out, but I didn't expect -- this." "Get me drunk enough, I'll talk your head off about it." Polaris takes the lemonade offered her, too, her eyes lighting with--surprise? Pleasure? "You folks are...pretty amazing with all this. Not saying this makes it less impressive, but I get a depressing sense that's mostly because you've had tons of experience. I dunno how many times you've done it, but--ten years?" With a few more bites, she clears her plate and returns to the counter for seconds. "Hell yeah, I'm serious. I mean--this is unbelievably delicious and I am not even near this level in my cooking." She waves at the entire spread. "But I've done the Food Not Bombs thing, and as long as there's someone who knows from at least two flavors telling me what to do, I am down to chop so many vegetables."