While I am posting logs...
This is a scene I started with Dominic from late September. He was having some RL issues and we never had a chance to finish it. I'm hoping to catch him on-game again soon, but we're far enough removed from this particular scene that I think we'd just start a new one the next time. I am posting this anyway because it is further setup for what is hopefully going to be an awesome rivalry.
=NYC= McLaughlin Alley - Greenwich Village - Manhattan
Compared to some of the more scenic alleyways and leafy enclaves of Greenwich Village and SoHo, this back alley doesn't particularly stand out to a tourist's roving eye or even that of an urban explorer. Quite the opposite, actually. Winding between mostly residential buildings with iron-wrought fire escapes looming overhead, it's cluttered with discarded bits of plywood and dumpsters that have spilled wet newspapers and rats to the path of dirt and broken cobblestones. Should one explore far enough down, they might find a few seedy, underpopulated bars, but none more impressive than the few shabby, hole-in-the-wall doorways that can be found as well.
[Exits : [O]ut and [T]he [S]anctuary]
=NYC= The Sanctuary - McLaughlin Alley - Greenwich Village
Accessible through one of the nondescript doorways from the filthy, unpopulated alleyway outside, those who find their way to The Sanctuary usually have been pointed in the right direction. The single room of the coffee joint is deceptively large, despite the only natural lighting being from a pair of windows almost too grimy to see through. The remaining dimness is cured effectively, however, by a series of well-placed wall sconces amidst bookshelves and abstract paintings by little-known local artists. The main counter with its impressive menu of caffeinated goodness dominates most of one wall, but arranged in the still plentiful leftover space are any number of seating arrangements from small, iron-wrought tables and chairs to a battered old couch and stained table as well as patched and repatched beanbag furniture.
But the focus of The Sanctuary is not so much its comfortable atmosphere as the eccentric crowd it runs with. A crowd so eccentric, in fact, that it's no secret to the patrons of this joint that the majority of them are mutants. No doubt the owners and operators of the shop are mutants themselves, and in this easygoing crowd it's not uncommon to have your double espresso served to you by a fellow with three eyes and a tail.
As the day draws into evenings, those who linger in the shop at this hour may begin to detect a rhythmic pulse of music from underfoot. Not loud or obtrusive, per say, but present nonetheless, and wanting of investigation.
[Exits : [O]ut and [U]nderground [S]anctuary]
Andre very well appears to be breaking the rules. The transplanted Californian sits in one of the old armchairs, coffee in one hand and a paperback book in the other, not at all paying attention to the clock on the wall behind him. Closer investigation would show, though, that there are several empty coffee cups on the table nearest him, and that he seems to be pretty far into that book. Perhaps he slipped in before the cutoff time.
A breeze flicks into the coffee shop as Dominic pushes his way into the room, blatantly disregarding the threat of his lack of ID. As the tall greek slowly scans the bar his lips hook into an inquisitive grin as he spots a familiar. Winding his path across several tables, he sits at a chair adjacent to Andre. "Makes more sense why the riots bothered you."
Andre looks up over the top of his book to see the source of the sudden nearby speaking. This is an attempt to be subtle and not stare, but his eyebrows go pretty far up when he identifies Dominic. He lowers the book, his brows going quickly back down parallel with the edge. "Oh?"
"Sure. We all know how pissed they get at us." Dominic remarks casually, leaning back to lounge appropriately. "I could see that makin' some of us nervous."
Andre lowers the book further, pulls a bookmark out from the back of it, closes it, and puts it on the tables between his coffee cups. All of this is a surprisingly unjittery movement for someone who has had so much caffeine. "They bothered me because I came upon them by accident and happened to get involved," Andre says rather flatly, glancing indicatively at the healing scrapes on his arms.
Smug satisfaction evaporates into a solemn understanding as Dominic tilts his head to fully inspect the cuts. "Not bad." He remarks, nodding his head in approval and grinning back up to the man's face. "How many did you take out?"
Andre withdraws his arms now, picking up his book again, balancing it on the one forearm, and tapping the cover with his other hand. "Take out?" Andre seems almost offended by the question. "If I was so upset by it, why d'you think I would have been taking people out in there?"
A look nearing that preceding a tired groan washes over Dominic's face at the reply. He releases a deep breath instead. "I don't know; you don't look like much of a fighter, maybe you took a few to the kidney? I figure 'You're still here.' You didn't thump some skulls on the way out?"
Andre seems like he's about to say something, but catches himself for a moment, his lack of self-censoring still fresh in his mind from the previous day. He continues to drum his fingers against the book. "I was kinda pressed against a wall the whole time. Couldn't get away from it. No swinging punches."
Dominic arches a brow and leans forward with visibly heightened curiosity. "How'd /that/ happen? Didn't swing as they were trying to pin you?"
Andre is not doing so well at dodging this, though he's still managing to hold on with it to some degree. "Best place to be to avoid getting swung at, really." He stops tapping and starts idly flipping the pages of the book, which is still balanced on his forearm.
The way Dominic's face contorts looks as if he bit into a lime, broken only by the rough chuckle that bursts out of his lungs. "Are you kiddin'? That's vulnerable to kidney shots. When people get in gangs they're like jackals: they take what they can get."
Andre moves his arms from across his belly to the arms of the chair, the book dangling out of one hand. "No kidney shots." He's just not smiling at the laugh. "Why d'you want me to have made it even worse in there?"
"Made it worse?" Dominic repeats with a lingering snicker, leaning back and running a hand through his stringy hair. "Boy, oh boy. If someone pushes you, you push 'em back. If they throw a fist, you throw one better. Sit down and you get your ass beat."
Andre isn't going to pretend he's not a bleeding-heart California liberal of the sort that finds Dominic's type of logic to be repellant. "My ass isn't beat. If nobody was throwing punches at /me/, why would I escalate it in my direction? You said I don't look like a fighter." He's actually somewhat glad things have turned in this direction, though. He doesn't have to explain the building now.
"Then you get beaten and, eventually, that bullshit gets you killed." Dominic replies sharply, leaning back and letting out a huff. "What the hell is your power anyway? Lets you sit around and do that crap?"
Andre wrinkles his nose and grimaces, leaning forward again, snapping the book shut. "So the other day you were talking about humans whining and being stupid and looking straight at me. What gives on you changing that interpretation?"
"They're whiny, stupid, and weak!" Dominic fires back, leaning in with a warmonger's grin. "If you're taking shit from a human, you damn well /better/ kick their asses. How do you figure that goes against what I said?"
"I mean," Andre snaps back, "you sure seemed to think I was human the other day." He's not doing so well at being vague, even though he's still not outwardly saying anything. The flipping of the book pages becomes a little faster. "Plenty of people have called me whiny this week, including you." Oooh, contradictory humor.
"Take the hint and /stop/ whining!" Dominic returns, his lip curling into a sneer. "I didn't say mutants can't be whiny; I said humans normally are. If you would stop whining about stupid shit and start acting, well- damn. /Imagine that world/."
Andre's snipey expression, to the contrary, actually becomes less severe. "Dude, seriously, what makes you so sure?"
Dominic holds his hands up and looks around himself. "We are in the United States of America. You Americans did that with the British, right?" He says, crossing the arms and kicking back into the chair. "They didn't do that by turnin' the other cheek."
Andre exhales sharply. "I mean, what makes you so sure I'm a mutant?" The question is actually far more of a genuine inquiry than a challenge. "And what makes you sure all mutants can kick butt? I mean, I'm reading a book about /plate tectonics/. Not quite badass." Of course, he thinks it actually is, but that is not the point.
Dominic quirks his brow and looks around the duo curiously. "Are you fucking kidding me? You don't get here if you're not a mutant. If you're a human in here, you're fuckin' a mutant. And let me tell you somethin', buddy. Earthquakes are bad-/ass/."
"Point, point," Andre gives Dominic, placing the book on the table, the proceeding to be evasive again. "They are pretty freaking awesome. Just can't say I've ever really felt one." Says he with the UCLA shirt, entirely too confidently. "But reading about them? Nerd."
"That's pretty nerdy." Dominic agrees, softening his face as he considers the situation. "Earthquakes are /fun/. Where you from?"
Andre's expression relaxes considerably as his nerddom is acknowledged, only to tense back up again when he realizes that he's walked up against another wall here. "Berkeley." He shrugs.
Dominic furrows his brow and shrugs. "Berkeley? I do not know where this is."
Andre clenches his jaw, frustrated with himself, then elects to go with the casual route. "Just out side of San Francisco. Then I moved to LA for a while, then here. You?"
Dominic ahs and slowly nods his head, a small smile forming across his lips. "I see. This is in California, yes?"
"Yes," Andre responds with a cheerfulness that can only be artificial at this point. "Far nicer weather than here."
Again, the man's brow knits with consideration and a hand reaches up to rub at his neck. "I thought California had a lot of quakes."
Andre nods, still smiling in nerdish delight. "Yeah, that sucker's moving really fast, an inch and a half a year! That's, like, Olympics fast for a bunch of rocks."
Mirth fades into distrust as Dominic eyes Andre. "I thought you said you've never felt an earthquake..."
Andre squints a bit, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "Well, not any worth noting." And he grins again. That statement is entirely true, of course, just not in the manner that most people would take it.
=NYC= McLaughlin Alley - Greenwich Village - Manhattan
Compared to some of the more scenic alleyways and leafy enclaves of Greenwich Village and SoHo, this back alley doesn't particularly stand out to a tourist's roving eye or even that of an urban explorer. Quite the opposite, actually. Winding between mostly residential buildings with iron-wrought fire escapes looming overhead, it's cluttered with discarded bits of plywood and dumpsters that have spilled wet newspapers and rats to the path of dirt and broken cobblestones. Should one explore far enough down, they might find a few seedy, underpopulated bars, but none more impressive than the few shabby, hole-in-the-wall doorways that can be found as well.
[Exits : [O]ut and [T]he [S]anctuary]
=NYC= The Sanctuary - McLaughlin Alley - Greenwich Village
Accessible through one of the nondescript doorways from the filthy, unpopulated alleyway outside, those who find their way to The Sanctuary usually have been pointed in the right direction. The single room of the coffee joint is deceptively large, despite the only natural lighting being from a pair of windows almost too grimy to see through. The remaining dimness is cured effectively, however, by a series of well-placed wall sconces amidst bookshelves and abstract paintings by little-known local artists. The main counter with its impressive menu of caffeinated goodness dominates most of one wall, but arranged in the still plentiful leftover space are any number of seating arrangements from small, iron-wrought tables and chairs to a battered old couch and stained table as well as patched and repatched beanbag furniture.
But the focus of The Sanctuary is not so much its comfortable atmosphere as the eccentric crowd it runs with. A crowd so eccentric, in fact, that it's no secret to the patrons of this joint that the majority of them are mutants. No doubt the owners and operators of the shop are mutants themselves, and in this easygoing crowd it's not uncommon to have your double espresso served to you by a fellow with three eyes and a tail.
As the day draws into evenings, those who linger in the shop at this hour may begin to detect a rhythmic pulse of music from underfoot. Not loud or obtrusive, per say, but present nonetheless, and wanting of investigation.
[Exits : [O]ut and [U]nderground [S]anctuary]
Andre very well appears to be breaking the rules. The transplanted Californian sits in one of the old armchairs, coffee in one hand and a paperback book in the other, not at all paying attention to the clock on the wall behind him. Closer investigation would show, though, that there are several empty coffee cups on the table nearest him, and that he seems to be pretty far into that book. Perhaps he slipped in before the cutoff time.
A breeze flicks into the coffee shop as Dominic pushes his way into the room, blatantly disregarding the threat of his lack of ID. As the tall greek slowly scans the bar his lips hook into an inquisitive grin as he spots a familiar. Winding his path across several tables, he sits at a chair adjacent to Andre. "Makes more sense why the riots bothered you."
Andre looks up over the top of his book to see the source of the sudden nearby speaking. This is an attempt to be subtle and not stare, but his eyebrows go pretty far up when he identifies Dominic. He lowers the book, his brows going quickly back down parallel with the edge. "Oh?"
"Sure. We all know how pissed they get at us." Dominic remarks casually, leaning back to lounge appropriately. "I could see that makin' some of us nervous."
Andre lowers the book further, pulls a bookmark out from the back of it, closes it, and puts it on the tables between his coffee cups. All of this is a surprisingly unjittery movement for someone who has had so much caffeine. "They bothered me because I came upon them by accident and happened to get involved," Andre says rather flatly, glancing indicatively at the healing scrapes on his arms.
Smug satisfaction evaporates into a solemn understanding as Dominic tilts his head to fully inspect the cuts. "Not bad." He remarks, nodding his head in approval and grinning back up to the man's face. "How many did you take out?"
Andre withdraws his arms now, picking up his book again, balancing it on the one forearm, and tapping the cover with his other hand. "Take out?" Andre seems almost offended by the question. "If I was so upset by it, why d'you think I would have been taking people out in there?"
A look nearing that preceding a tired groan washes over Dominic's face at the reply. He releases a deep breath instead. "I don't know; you don't look like much of a fighter, maybe you took a few to the kidney? I figure 'You're still here.' You didn't thump some skulls on the way out?"
Andre seems like he's about to say something, but catches himself for a moment, his lack of self-censoring still fresh in his mind from the previous day. He continues to drum his fingers against the book. "I was kinda pressed against a wall the whole time. Couldn't get away from it. No swinging punches."
Dominic arches a brow and leans forward with visibly heightened curiosity. "How'd /that/ happen? Didn't swing as they were trying to pin you?"
Andre is not doing so well at dodging this, though he's still managing to hold on with it to some degree. "Best place to be to avoid getting swung at, really." He stops tapping and starts idly flipping the pages of the book, which is still balanced on his forearm.
The way Dominic's face contorts looks as if he bit into a lime, broken only by the rough chuckle that bursts out of his lungs. "Are you kiddin'? That's vulnerable to kidney shots. When people get in gangs they're like jackals: they take what they can get."
Andre moves his arms from across his belly to the arms of the chair, the book dangling out of one hand. "No kidney shots." He's just not smiling at the laugh. "Why d'you want me to have made it even worse in there?"
"Made it worse?" Dominic repeats with a lingering snicker, leaning back and running a hand through his stringy hair. "Boy, oh boy. If someone pushes you, you push 'em back. If they throw a fist, you throw one better. Sit down and you get your ass beat."
Andre isn't going to pretend he's not a bleeding-heart California liberal of the sort that finds Dominic's type of logic to be repellant. "My ass isn't beat. If nobody was throwing punches at /me/, why would I escalate it in my direction? You said I don't look like a fighter." He's actually somewhat glad things have turned in this direction, though. He doesn't have to explain the building now.
"Then you get beaten and, eventually, that bullshit gets you killed." Dominic replies sharply, leaning back and letting out a huff. "What the hell is your power anyway? Lets you sit around and do that crap?"
Andre wrinkles his nose and grimaces, leaning forward again, snapping the book shut. "So the other day you were talking about humans whining and being stupid and looking straight at me. What gives on you changing that interpretation?"
"They're whiny, stupid, and weak!" Dominic fires back, leaning in with a warmonger's grin. "If you're taking shit from a human, you damn well /better/ kick their asses. How do you figure that goes against what I said?"
"I mean," Andre snaps back, "you sure seemed to think I was human the other day." He's not doing so well at being vague, even though he's still not outwardly saying anything. The flipping of the book pages becomes a little faster. "Plenty of people have called me whiny this week, including you." Oooh, contradictory humor.
"Take the hint and /stop/ whining!" Dominic returns, his lip curling into a sneer. "I didn't say mutants can't be whiny; I said humans normally are. If you would stop whining about stupid shit and start acting, well- damn. /Imagine that world/."
Andre's snipey expression, to the contrary, actually becomes less severe. "Dude, seriously, what makes you so sure?"
Dominic holds his hands up and looks around himself. "We are in the United States of America. You Americans did that with the British, right?" He says, crossing the arms and kicking back into the chair. "They didn't do that by turnin' the other cheek."
Andre exhales sharply. "I mean, what makes you so sure I'm a mutant?" The question is actually far more of a genuine inquiry than a challenge. "And what makes you sure all mutants can kick butt? I mean, I'm reading a book about /plate tectonics/. Not quite badass." Of course, he thinks it actually is, but that is not the point.
Dominic quirks his brow and looks around the duo curiously. "Are you fucking kidding me? You don't get here if you're not a mutant. If you're a human in here, you're fuckin' a mutant. And let me tell you somethin', buddy. Earthquakes are bad-/ass/."
"Point, point," Andre gives Dominic, placing the book on the table, the proceeding to be evasive again. "They are pretty freaking awesome. Just can't say I've ever really felt one." Says he with the UCLA shirt, entirely too confidently. "But reading about them? Nerd."
"That's pretty nerdy." Dominic agrees, softening his face as he considers the situation. "Earthquakes are /fun/. Where you from?"
Andre's expression relaxes considerably as his nerddom is acknowledged, only to tense back up again when he realizes that he's walked up against another wall here. "Berkeley." He shrugs.
Dominic furrows his brow and shrugs. "Berkeley? I do not know where this is."
Andre clenches his jaw, frustrated with himself, then elects to go with the casual route. "Just out side of San Francisco. Then I moved to LA for a while, then here. You?"
Dominic ahs and slowly nods his head, a small smile forming across his lips. "I see. This is in California, yes?"
"Yes," Andre responds with a cheerfulness that can only be artificial at this point. "Far nicer weather than here."
Again, the man's brow knits with consideration and a hand reaches up to rub at his neck. "I thought California had a lot of quakes."
Andre nods, still smiling in nerdish delight. "Yeah, that sucker's moving really fast, an inch and a half a year! That's, like, Olympics fast for a bunch of rocks."
Mirth fades into distrust as Dominic eyes Andre. "I thought you said you've never felt an earthquake..."
Andre squints a bit, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "Well, not any worth noting." And he grins again. That statement is entirely true, of course, just not in the manner that most people would take it.