Funny Thing Happened....
You know, I may be endowed with the mutant ability to change my outer appearance, but Humans in general are natural at not being what they appear to be.
Let's start with Mrs. Bisco, shall we? A lonely, caring old woman who's dissolving all of her fortune into charitable functions before she passes on. And, who also has a grip like a VICE! It took me FOREVER to get her to put my tabby self down after I was "rescued" from a tree today! And since I didn't want to hurt her, of course, I couldn't exactly use cat claws to free myself. That lady, takes her vitamins.
Finally, there's the guy who "rescued" me. Turns out, he was the same guy I drunkedly spilled my guts to in a bar last year! Well for one thing, he seemed like a very rude person. I mean, he called Mrs. Bisco a 'batshit crazy cat woman'! She's not crazy, and she's not a cat woman in the sense of keeping thousands of cats in her home! She just happens to feed the occasional stray she finds milling on her back porch. She does the same for dogs, too. And has a few birdfeeders dangling around... Anyway. But he did help her out, even though we had a few words in whatever privacy the tree allowed us to. And said he hadn't ever said anything about my past moment of stupidity. I probably shouldn't trust his word alone, but he was nice to Mrs. Bisco despite having a 'I'm not doing this 'cause I want to' attitude the whole time. Ah well. Nice people are everywhere if you know where to look.
And for the record, I wasn't stuck in the tree! I was going to turn into a bird and fly away, but instead of going back into her house and watching soaps, Mrs. Bisco followed me and made a scene. If anyone's interested, you should really visit her sometime. She's been widowed for twenty years and her own family really doesn't do anything besides send a card every now and then.
Note to self: Call parents and let them know how much I love them.
(WES) Salem Center
A small little escape from the hustle and bustle of the inner city whose skyline looms in the distance, Salem Center is a relatively small Westchester community that retains some illusion of colonial charm, about it. The stores and restaurants and small apartment buildings here are, for the most part, brick and wood with barely a steel-and-glass skyscraper in sight. The atmosphere is generally pleasant, if humble, and most mutants feel far more comfortable on these much more liberal sidewalks than they do in the depths of the city. Quaint little bistros, boutiques, and any number of alluring spots to explore are all packed closely against one another with few narrow alleys in sight. It's less crowded than the city, to boot, and on most days not much more than a few handfuls of people roam the sidewalks down the line of glass store-windows and colored awnings overlooking the Main Street.
How awkward is this day for Sydney? Not very, actually. He walked, ran and flew all this way across New York to do some shopping in a less expensive area, and that's prettymuch it. ... Except for the fact that as he also chose to pay a visit to an old lady-friend of his in the form of a stray cat. Can't go wrong with free milk and fish for lunch. And since she decided to stand out her door and watch him leave, he couldn't exactly turn back into a person, now could he? Now, his plan was to jump up a tree, turn into a bird and fly away. But, the old lady, bless her soul, sees a cat up a tree and instantly goes into doting_mode. "Someone? Someone please! Oh help, this kitty is stuck up a tree! Someone? Anyone?" And... Sydney sighs. . o O (Darn me and my love for milk and fish.) "Mew."
Logan is coming down the street when, inadvertently, he finds himself confronted with a crazy cat lady right in his face as he comes around a corner. And unfortunately, as an obviously large, young and healthy man, he naturally attracts her attention despite his obvious distaste for involvement. "Please, sir, you must help this poor pretty defenseless kitty!" she practicaly clings to him. Logan edges away hastily. "Okay, okay!" he agrees to get some space. "Jeez, lady, keep your corset on." He moves to the bottom of the tree, then jumps up to haul himself into the branches. "Here (inarticulate profane mumble) kitty."
Oh good, she found someone. Now all he has to do is play innocent, let the man rescue him, rubrub, then run off. But wait---Sydney senses, tingling. "...Mrow?" The emerald-colored eyes of this orange-and-black tabby dialate repeatedly as he looks Logan over. He looks familiar. Once upon a time... Something in a bar? While trying to recall where he's seen the man before, Syd backs up on his branch, then hops up a bit higher. Can't make it easy to rescue a cat out of a tree, now can he?
Logan's profane mumbling gets just a little bit louder. Cautiously, he climbs up another branch and edges further out, even as the branch support starts to sway under Logan's considerable weight. "C'mon, kitty," he grits out in a strange singsong between clenched teeth. "Come to uncle Logan so the batshit crazy cat woman won't cry." He reaches out a hand, trying to move slowly enough to avoid frightening the poor cat.
Batshit crazy cat woman? "Hey, Mrs. Bisco is a very nice lady and I'll thank you not to call her names," the cat says suddenly in a light, adult male voice; and suddenly, it hits Sydney where he's seen this guy before. "Oh my God, it's you!!!" He lets off a loud cat screech and hops to yet another branch out of Logan's reach. Fortunately, the small crowd that's gathered for this rare cat rescue probably can't hear or see past the tree's fall leaves.
Logan startles at the sound of the human voice, somewhat unsurprisingly. He nearly slips off his branch, grabbing the one above to maintain his balance. The crowd lets out a gasp at Logan's antics, but Logan's balance is exceptional, and he gets himself back on balance quickly. "What in the...?" He sniffs the air and spends a moment actually separating out the scents surrounding him. That one...it tickles the memory banks. "Oh, you have got to be freakin' kidding me," he growls. "I'm trying to save a goddamn metamorph from a tree?"
Sydney the Pussycat shakes his head. "No, you're doing a kind service for a little old lady who constantly donates to charities and is kind to stray animals! And I guess you don't remember me, do you? Pff, I barely remembered you. But you're that guy I drunkedly ran my mouth off to at a bar almost a year ago!" He mewls pitifully. "What is with my fortune today? You haven't been talking to anyone about that incident, have you?" Of course it might help if Sydney actually looked the way he did that day, but you know. Circumstances.
Logan glares at the cat as he hoists himself up another branch carefully and this one creaks ominously under his weight. "If you were a real cat, I'd be doing her a service. Now, I'm just helping you maintain your illusion, so you could damn well do me a favor and make it easier for me." He doesn't mention that he recognizes Sydney's odor, but he does take a minute to sigh. "No, I haven't been running my mouth off, which is a lot more than I can say for you. Now get your ass down here so I can 'save' you, or I'll freaking cut the top of the tree off and let you drop."
Sydney blinks at him. "Cut the top of the tree off? What, do you keep a machete in your back pocket?" He winces at the mouth-running comment, and resorts to lowering his voice now. One day, he will master the art of not suddenly breaking into a conversation while disguised as an animal. "Yeah, well... Thank you for having a scosh more discretion than me, then." "Have you got my little Spottyboots, mister," the old lady calls up, causing Syd to wince yet again. "... Ooookay, hero. Just be gentle." The cat mewls, then hops down to where Logan can reach him.
"You don't wanna know," Logan mutters, half to himself at Sydney's first question. He is gentle when he picks Sydney up, though he holds the feline metamorph awkwardly, unwilling to tuck what he knows to be an adult male mutant up against his chest like he would an actual cat. "Got 'im!" he calls down, and carefully descends to the ground, offering Sydney back to Mrs. Brisco, and restraining the urge to mutter under his breath.
"Mew!" "Oooh, my little Spottyboots," Mrs. Bisco takes the cat and hugs him, which makes Syd cough and choke under the pressure. The old lady has a deathgrip, for sure. The audience claps and eventually disperses. "Thank you, young man. Here, let me give you a little reward," Mrs. Bisco says as she turns sideways and reaches into her purse. Meanwhile, Sydney hangs lazily over her shoulder and looks up at Logan. He gives a nod of thanks as well, then mewls contentedly while Mrs. Bisco turns back to Logan and holds up a shiny silver dollar. "There you go! Now don't you go spend it all on candy and soda."
Logan takes the silver dollar with a degree of bemusement he just can't quite hide. He looks down at the coin. Then back up at Mrs. Bisco. "Thank you, ma'am. Just be sure little Spottyboots stays outta that kinda trouble again." He looks down at the cat with a little gleam in his eye. Good luck getting away for the next hour. He tips his imaginary cap to the old woman (almost two thirds Logan's age!) and turns resume his walk.
Let's start with Mrs. Bisco, shall we? A lonely, caring old woman who's dissolving all of her fortune into charitable functions before she passes on. And, who also has a grip like a VICE! It took me FOREVER to get her to put my tabby self down after I was "rescued" from a tree today! And since I didn't want to hurt her, of course, I couldn't exactly use cat claws to free myself. That lady, takes her vitamins.
Finally, there's the guy who "rescued" me. Turns out, he was the same guy I drunkedly spilled my guts to in a bar last year! Well for one thing, he seemed like a very rude person. I mean, he called Mrs. Bisco a 'batshit crazy cat woman'! She's not crazy, and she's not a cat woman in the sense of keeping thousands of cats in her home! She just happens to feed the occasional stray she finds milling on her back porch. She does the same for dogs, too. And has a few birdfeeders dangling around... Anyway. But he did help her out, even though we had a few words in whatever privacy the tree allowed us to. And said he hadn't ever said anything about my past moment of stupidity. I probably shouldn't trust his word alone, but he was nice to Mrs. Bisco despite having a 'I'm not doing this 'cause I want to' attitude the whole time. Ah well. Nice people are everywhere if you know where to look.
And for the record, I wasn't stuck in the tree! I was going to turn into a bird and fly away, but instead of going back into her house and watching soaps, Mrs. Bisco followed me and made a scene. If anyone's interested, you should really visit her sometime. She's been widowed for twenty years and her own family really doesn't do anything besides send a card every now and then.
Note to self: Call parents and let them know how much I love them.
(WES) Salem Center
A small little escape from the hustle and bustle of the inner city whose skyline looms in the distance, Salem Center is a relatively small Westchester community that retains some illusion of colonial charm, about it. The stores and restaurants and small apartment buildings here are, for the most part, brick and wood with barely a steel-and-glass skyscraper in sight. The atmosphere is generally pleasant, if humble, and most mutants feel far more comfortable on these much more liberal sidewalks than they do in the depths of the city. Quaint little bistros, boutiques, and any number of alluring spots to explore are all packed closely against one another with few narrow alleys in sight. It's less crowded than the city, to boot, and on most days not much more than a few handfuls of people roam the sidewalks down the line of glass store-windows and colored awnings overlooking the Main Street.
How awkward is this day for Sydney? Not very, actually. He walked, ran and flew all this way across New York to do some shopping in a less expensive area, and that's prettymuch it. ... Except for the fact that as he also chose to pay a visit to an old lady-friend of his in the form of a stray cat. Can't go wrong with free milk and fish for lunch. And since she decided to stand out her door and watch him leave, he couldn't exactly turn back into a person, now could he? Now, his plan was to jump up a tree, turn into a bird and fly away. But, the old lady, bless her soul, sees a cat up a tree and instantly goes into doting_mode. "Someone? Someone please! Oh help, this kitty is stuck up a tree! Someone? Anyone?" And... Sydney sighs. . o O (Darn me and my love for milk and fish.) "Mew."
Logan is coming down the street when, inadvertently, he finds himself confronted with a crazy cat lady right in his face as he comes around a corner. And unfortunately, as an obviously large, young and healthy man, he naturally attracts her attention despite his obvious distaste for involvement. "Please, sir, you must help this poor pretty defenseless kitty!" she practicaly clings to him. Logan edges away hastily. "Okay, okay!" he agrees to get some space. "Jeez, lady, keep your corset on." He moves to the bottom of the tree, then jumps up to haul himself into the branches. "Here (inarticulate profane mumble) kitty."
Oh good, she found someone. Now all he has to do is play innocent, let the man rescue him, rubrub, then run off. But wait---Sydney senses, tingling. "...Mrow?" The emerald-colored eyes of this orange-and-black tabby dialate repeatedly as he looks Logan over. He looks familiar. Once upon a time... Something in a bar? While trying to recall where he's seen the man before, Syd backs up on his branch, then hops up a bit higher. Can't make it easy to rescue a cat out of a tree, now can he?
Logan's profane mumbling gets just a little bit louder. Cautiously, he climbs up another branch and edges further out, even as the branch support starts to sway under Logan's considerable weight. "C'mon, kitty," he grits out in a strange singsong between clenched teeth. "Come to uncle Logan so the batshit crazy cat woman won't cry." He reaches out a hand, trying to move slowly enough to avoid frightening the poor cat.
Batshit crazy cat woman? "Hey, Mrs. Bisco is a very nice lady and I'll thank you not to call her names," the cat says suddenly in a light, adult male voice; and suddenly, it hits Sydney where he's seen this guy before. "Oh my God, it's you!!!" He lets off a loud cat screech and hops to yet another branch out of Logan's reach. Fortunately, the small crowd that's gathered for this rare cat rescue probably can't hear or see past the tree's fall leaves.
Logan startles at the sound of the human voice, somewhat unsurprisingly. He nearly slips off his branch, grabbing the one above to maintain his balance. The crowd lets out a gasp at Logan's antics, but Logan's balance is exceptional, and he gets himself back on balance quickly. "What in the...?" He sniffs the air and spends a moment actually separating out the scents surrounding him. That one...it tickles the memory banks. "Oh, you have got to be freakin' kidding me," he growls. "I'm trying to save a goddamn metamorph from a tree?"
Sydney the Pussycat shakes his head. "No, you're doing a kind service for a little old lady who constantly donates to charities and is kind to stray animals! And I guess you don't remember me, do you? Pff, I barely remembered you. But you're that guy I drunkedly ran my mouth off to at a bar almost a year ago!" He mewls pitifully. "What is with my fortune today? You haven't been talking to anyone about that incident, have you?" Of course it might help if Sydney actually looked the way he did that day, but you know. Circumstances.
Logan glares at the cat as he hoists himself up another branch carefully and this one creaks ominously under his weight. "If you were a real cat, I'd be doing her a service. Now, I'm just helping you maintain your illusion, so you could damn well do me a favor and make it easier for me." He doesn't mention that he recognizes Sydney's odor, but he does take a minute to sigh. "No, I haven't been running my mouth off, which is a lot more than I can say for you. Now get your ass down here so I can 'save' you, or I'll freaking cut the top of the tree off and let you drop."
Sydney blinks at him. "Cut the top of the tree off? What, do you keep a machete in your back pocket?" He winces at the mouth-running comment, and resorts to lowering his voice now. One day, he will master the art of not suddenly breaking into a conversation while disguised as an animal. "Yeah, well... Thank you for having a scosh more discretion than me, then." "Have you got my little Spottyboots, mister," the old lady calls up, causing Syd to wince yet again. "... Ooookay, hero. Just be gentle." The cat mewls, then hops down to where Logan can reach him.
"You don't wanna know," Logan mutters, half to himself at Sydney's first question. He is gentle when he picks Sydney up, though he holds the feline metamorph awkwardly, unwilling to tuck what he knows to be an adult male mutant up against his chest like he would an actual cat. "Got 'im!" he calls down, and carefully descends to the ground, offering Sydney back to Mrs. Brisco, and restraining the urge to mutter under his breath.
"Mew!" "Oooh, my little Spottyboots," Mrs. Bisco takes the cat and hugs him, which makes Syd cough and choke under the pressure. The old lady has a deathgrip, for sure. The audience claps and eventually disperses. "Thank you, young man. Here, let me give you a little reward," Mrs. Bisco says as she turns sideways and reaches into her purse. Meanwhile, Sydney hangs lazily over her shoulder and looks up at Logan. He gives a nod of thanks as well, then mewls contentedly while Mrs. Bisco turns back to Logan and holds up a shiny silver dollar. "There you go! Now don't you go spend it all on candy and soda."
Logan takes the silver dollar with a degree of bemusement he just can't quite hide. He looks down at the coin. Then back up at Mrs. Bisco. "Thank you, ma'am. Just be sure little Spottyboots stays outta that kinda trouble again." He looks down at the cat with a little gleam in his eye. Good luck getting away for the next hour. He tips his imaginary cap to the old woman (almost two thirds Logan's age!) and turns resume his walk.