Post-Carnage Coffee

Players:

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Special Note 1: This RP was played out on March 18, 2009, but it is set on March 16, 2009 right after the scene “The Anti-Amusement Park

Special Note 2: The scene moves from outside of the park to “Café King”. This café doesn’t really exist on the grid. It was invented for the scene. So…Don’t go hunting for it.

Summary: Ana and Dax go to a horrible little coffee shop to wind down after all the excitement at the abandoned park.

Date: March 16, 2009

Post-Carnage Coffee

Rating: G


Abandoned Amusement Park

Darkness seems to prevail here whether night or day as long shadows ebb and twist through the abandoned place. Upon first entry into the park, one is met with a long, chain fence in which the wires had been cut away at some point by someone, and allowing entrance into the place. Past the cut fence lies an old, rundown ticket booth. The ancient wood cracked and chipped in several places as a few stray old ticket stubs litter the ground around it. Some graffiti is tagged on to the booth of various gang symbols and 'decorations' that serve as a warning within the more dangerous motif of the place. The park itself is large and houses many attractions that once a long time ago served as a hot entertainment spot for this part of the city, though now only lies in desolation and ruin.

The ground is littered with various debris as well as some forms of used paraphernalia. A few needles, condoms, used drug bags and trash stain the floor here and there. Within the park are several rotting attractions. An old coaster, once roaring with screams of fright and enjoyment, now lies dead and silent upon its track. A few more rides reside within the park dotting here and there, though all now lie in an eerie quiescence within the abandoned place. For now the empty park seems to be used for other various means of enjoyment, whether it be a quiet place to bring a date for a good rumpage within the funhouse, or for a private spot for drug deals and the like. Sometimes other forms of degradation can be found here, as a few bums have taken up residence within the place for a good squatting spot. Every now and then the place is used for fights to be settled, or a meeting place for more nefarious uses.


It's been a terrible night thus far, even if the 'good guys' came out semi-victorious. The cops are fashionably late as always and, by the time they show up, the former captive of the anti-mutant group has been lead a good distance away. Ana lags a little behind the boy, glancing over her shoulder rather frequently to confirm that the police haven't caught onto their tracks yet. It's rare to see her shaking … and yet, here she is, shoulders hunched, hands jammed in her hoodie pockets with the bullets she culled from the gun, and shivering through a combination of the cold night air and the adrenaline as it starts to work its way out of her system.

The boy, for now, seems too stunned and relieved to say much of anything — he can't even remember if he thanked them for helping, really, but such is to be expected.

Dax stops to catch his breath as he looks between the two of them. He has long since replaced his goggles to prevent affecting Ana or the freed boy. "So…Um…Good job, I guess, eh?" He glances back toward the park, listening to the sirens. "Funny that it took so long for the coppers to show up, eh?" He crosses his arms and looks slightly puzzled. "I wonder if Mr. Glowy Arms survived exploding." He looks back to the boy. If it were true that he killed his parents, he probably has nowhere to go.

Her nose crinkles, dark gaze slanting over to Dax when he starts to speak. The young woman inclines her head toward him, mouth drawn to a side in what might be a sardonic or rueful expression. Shoulders rise and fall, her pace slacking a bit until coming to an eventual stop. She doesn't have any answers, but a momentary look of concern indicates that she seems to understand or at least shares his sentiments.

"Th- thank you," comes from the boy once he finds his voice again, his gaze downcast. "I need to go." Regardless of whether he has a place to go, he seems to have some sort of place in mind as he turns and starts to head for an alley to duck into.

Dax cocks his head and watches Ana's mannerisms with interest. Funny, this girl is always so quiet. He glances over at the boy as he wanders off. "Ah! Now what'd I say about wandering through dark, secluded alleys?" The boy seems to quicken his pace. "Oh fine, but do be careful this time, will ya?" He waves a hand dismissively at the boy and turns back to Ana, jutting a thumb toward the kid. "Probably be savin' him again, hmm?" He shrugs and rubs his chin, pondering for a moment. "You know, I don't think I ever learned your name. I'm Dax." He holds out a hand to shake.

Whatever her reasons, she's not sharing them. She withdraws her hand after a moment or two; though she nods to him, it's not at the mention of her name but his lattermost comment. Ana considers for a moment, and then proceeds to sketch out a few hand signs that roughly ask: do you know sign language? Though, from the difficulty she has picking the words — down to the need to chew fretfully on her lower lip — one might wonder if she's all that familiar with it herself.

"Ummmm…" Dax says as he watches her for a few moments and scratches his head. "I…Don't know any of that hand-stuff." He fishes around in his pocket for a moment. "But I do…Carry this around with me in case I hear something I want to jot down." He pulls out a small notepad and a pen and hands it to the girl. It is mostly filled with what look to be song names and a few drink recipes."

She doesn't seem too surprised by the revelation, though there's a vague sense of disappointment in the way her stance shifts. Ana blinks a bit when the notebook is procured, taking it as it's offered … and then proceeding to stare blankly at it until she's turned it every which way she can think to. Apologetically, she looks back at him, mouth contorted slightly with displeasure — though not at him. The book is offered back, her free hand lifting to rub at the back of her neck awkwardly.

Dax watches the girl expectantly, his expression showing more confusion as the girl looks over the notebook. "Um…Hmmm…" Is all he can muster as he takes the book back. "Can you not…Write?" That was a severe disadvantage if she could also not speak. Add that to the fact that the only 'sign language' Dax knows are lude or unfriendly…He decides not to try them here. He kicks at a rock idly and looks at the girl. "So…Now what?"

Her shoulders roll, nose scrunched up a little. A sheepish 'no' if ever there was one. And she seems all-too-aware of how difficult it is, lifting a hand to rap her knuckles on her forehead as if to indicate that it's the problem. Ana's hand drops and she glances away briefly, fingers flexing to work the rest of the shivering out of them. His query isn't immediately answered, but she eventually makes a suggestion by pantomiming getting something to drink with a curiously tired — but wry — sort of smile.

Dax watches the girl and raises an eyebrow when she confirms that she is unable to write. "Hmm…That's odd?" He nods again when she taps her head. Maybe she has some disability. She seems slightly uncomfortable about the subject to Dax, so he'll wait to ask how she can not write, but can seemingly work a gun expertly. "Um…You're thirsty?" He looks the girl up and down, she appears to be over 21. "You're 21, right? Wanna stop by a pub, or would you prefer something more along the lines of coffee?"

She glances around, then starts to walk — but toward the alley the kid went down not that long ago. Her explanation comes a moment later, when she pulls the gloves on and starts digging the bullets out of her pockets to dump into a convenient trash bin. Not the best of places, but better than carrying them on her; she's not stupid, much as her parents might believe otherwise. Ana glances sidelong at him when he speaks, listening in that peculiar way of hers; one shoulder lifts and drops in an indifferent shrug. She doesn't seem picky, at least? Or maybe she just doesn't understand. It's one or the other.

Dax is looking around and trying to get his bearings when he hears the tinkering of metal behind him. He turns to see Ana dropping the bullets in the trash bin. He hadn't seen her take them from the gun in all the confusion, but he's able to put things together easily enough. "Ah. Bullet thief, eh? Good on ya." He looks down the street and heads forward. "I suppose coffee's good. Don't want to be no where too crowded and loud after all that." He waves a hand behind him without looking back.

Either that, or she's a fond watcher of too many cop shows. With that done, Ana heads back to Dax on ghost-quiet footfalls, an expectant look given to him — he'll lead the way, right? And, much like him, she doesn't look back. That little bit of chaos was more than enough for her. She'll be more than happy just to follow him along to whatever coffee joint strikes his fancy, if only to get out of the cold and as far away from the memory of that madness as can be managed.

The two wander down the street some before Dax points and heads to one of the smaller shops. He holds the door open for the girl before going inside himself.


Café King

This Elvis themed Café is a little shabby to say the least. The walls are painted a horrible sea-foam green and decorated with pink ukuleles, some hibiscus and the occasional lawn flamingo. There is a tattered orange couch with a few mismatched chairs sitting around a central coffee table. Along one wall is a bar with specials written on it and a glass box with cookies and scones inside. Featured prominently on one wall is a life-sized painting of Elvis on black velvet.

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If you’re lucky enough to wander into this quaint little café, you may run into its proprietor, Thelma. Thelma opened this coffee bar in 1968, thus fulfilling her life dream. Unfortunately, she continued to live for many years after without ever updating that dream or the café. The 78 year old woman can often be seen behind the counter touching up her massive beehive or terrible clown-like makeup. If you’re lucky she’ll offer you a free sample of her dusty cookies. She speaks in a raspy old smoker’s voice that may cause some to question her gender.


Dax stops dead when he sees the wretched decor of this coffee house. He looks around as if to decide whether or not this truly is a coffee house…and not some old woman's dream home. He tentatively walks forward and rings the counter bell. An old woman comes out of the back, pressing on the sides of her beehive to keep it in place. God, what era did they fall in to? ""Um…Can I have a coconut late, please? And whatever she wants…"

The girl seems to have the good sense to hide her horrified expression behind her hands, feigning a need to yawn. What kind of a travesty /is/ this? Ana stands slightly to a side and behind Dax, warily eyeing the woman as she emerges from the back. With a distinct lack of pictures for her to point to, the young woman settles on pointing at Dax — she'll have what he's having, evidently. Or else just trusting him to order for her. Something like that, anyway, as she doesn't supply an answer of her own. Soon enough, her eyes are drawn to the various treats in the case, squinting a little at the contents as if attempting to discern just how old they are compared to the decor.

Dax squints at the old woman from behind his glasses. What made her think that neon blue eye shadow went with magenta lipstick…And that beehives were still a feasible hairstyle. He shudders slightly and looks back as Ana. Oh, she's pointing at him. "Um…She'll have the same. And a…cookie?" He points to the glass box filled with dusty cookies. He'd simply assumed that the girl wanted one by the way she was staring into the container. Dax watches the old woman make the coffee for a few moments before looking away and frowning at what appears to be a painting of Elvis done on black velvet. Classy.

Not that she'll complain; a cookie's a cookie, even if she's pretty sure that one there is furry. Ew. There's a passing glance given to the woman, a wrinkling of her nose, then Ana's looking around again with a worried crease to her brow. Much as she might want to watch the woman at work … it's perhaps better for her sanity if she doesn't. Which means she starts looking at whatever Dax is looking at, with a frown that mirrors his own. Eventually, she slides a sly look askance to Dax and makes the universal, twirly-fingered 'that lady is crazy' gesture at the side of her head.

Dax continues to frown at the poster before looking over at the girl. He smirks at her gesture when the old woman, 'Thelma' if her name tag is correct, begins speaking in her raspy voice. "You know, that cookie recipe was my mothers. I used to cook them all the time in Pasadena when I was just a girl. And then when Alphie went to the war…" She begins droning on and on. Dax looks like he may die, but the woman seems elated. Perhaps she doesn't get that many customers…for some reason.

And if listening was boring … imagine trying to pick up on whatever's being said by the old woman's body language — or distinct lack thereof, in this case. Which means Ana has to entertain herself somehow, which currently involves angling herself just so to block the flappy fingered 'blah blah blah' gesture she makes to Dax from the woman. It's not meant in a mean way, of course; it's done in a matter-of-fact sort of way, somewhat amused but otherwise indicating that she understands exactly how Dax feels.

Dax nods to the girl and looks back to make sure Thelma isn't going to start on some long rant again. Good, she appears to be busy polishing her precious moments figures while watching bingo on an old rabbit-eared TV in the back. Dax Takes a swig of his coffee and grabs the dusty cookie off the counter, offering it to Ana. He wanders over to the shabby couch and takes a seat. The couch makes a pained noise followed by a few clinks from the springs. Dax begins to doubt the structural integrity of this furniture…But oh well, the coffee's good at least.

Meanwhile, the girl claims an arm of the couch, perching lightly on it and with eyes half-shut. Tiredness seems to finally be kicking in, despite the impending infusion of caffeine; it's just been a long, long night. Ana rubs at her face briefly with a hand, then settles back into sipping in silence. Her gaze is distant, unfocused, and begins to drift across the collection of miscellaneous crap that festoons the coffee shop despite her lack of interest in any of it.

Dax frowns at a large lawn flamingo staring at him from a few inches away. If Mr. Glowy-Arms survived that explosion Dax is totally going to bring him here and piss him off. Hopefully he'll destroy this little hell-pit and save the world from its many horrors. He looks over at the girl and smiles slightly. "Ah, yeah I suppose it is a bit late. After all that. Maybe we should head out." He stands and stretches, walking over to the door and holding it open for the girl.

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