|Location||Oddball Coffee - Mutant Town, NYC|
|Summary||Oddball is having a pre-Valentine's poetry night.|
| Oddball Coffee sits on the edge of Mutant Town, near the northern 14th Street border, which may be why it's managed to keep its windows intact and its varied clientele happy. An eclectic, open-minded place, Oddball regularly showcases mutant artists and performers on its walls and on the tiny stage near the back. Framed photographs covering every spare inch of one brick wall show off wild feats that are only possible with mutation, and a few of their baristas make a show of using mutant powers in the making of their drinks.
It's made Oddball one of the few businesses which manages to appeal to both tourists and locals. The shop is nearly always busy, and it's not unusual for a stranger to request the empty chair at a full table.|
| It is a winter evening. The weather is cold and snowing.|
Oddball Coffee is dimly lit this evening, giving it a more romantic ambiance. On the eve of Valentine's Day, the hip little mutant coffeehouse has elected to throw its monthly poetry open mic in the theme of love and lovers. Unfortunately, for those paired off and eager to hear something that warms their hearts and bellies -- it's Tiffany's turn.
In a v-neck sweater and black skinny jeans, Tiffany creeps up onto the tiny stage. Wearing all charcoal and black colors, she keeps her head and posture low. Her hands fiddle with the little slip of napkin which she's jotted down her reading and she lets a long moment of silence pass before she begins a poem that is anything but romantic. Surrounded by heavy black eyeliner, her large eyes scan the crowd. Her voice is a dry monotone as she talks about having someone spread her legs and pulling her hair. She paints a picture of being brought to ecstasy and then, being abandoned. Forgotten.
Wetting her red-painted lips, Tiffany pauses again before coyly slipping back off of the stage. The few claps that she gets are likely from the other regulars who also read, or those who recognize her from her brief stint as a barista here. She returns to the little bar area, crinkling up the napkin and sliding it into her back pocket.
Alexandra is not really here for the pre-Valentine's presentation, but she's managed to have the (good?) timing to be in line for a drink when Tiffany takes the stage. Her eyes go wide, first with interest, then with /delighted/ interest, and then with //interest//. She tracks the other woman making her way back off the stage and towards the bar -- where Lexie also happens to be waiting in line near. A hand lifts without thinking to fix at the mess of dark waves that are windswept and frizzed by the snow outside; she ends up doing a bit of hair tossing. Hey. Hey bb.
"Pretty hot, even with the ending," she calls over, trying to play it cool. Her hands are stuffed into the pockets of her coat, and a few snowflakes have melted on her mascaraed lashes. "Haven't I seen you around here?"
Sliding into the barstool where her latte and belongings await, Tiffany doesn't look up at first. She doesn't think anyone is talking to her. "Oh," she widens her eyes and blinks them slowly at Lexie, "Me?" Tiffany brings up a finger to press into her chest, "Uhm, thanks. I try to be pretty hot, so..." ... "I used to work here."
"Well, you do a good job of it," Lexie says, looking pleased with herself, like maybe she's internally scoring her own flirting. "Oh, yeah, that must be where I've seen you. I'm in here enough to feel partially responsible for keeping them in business, so." At which point Lexie's flow is totally interrupted by getting to the head of line. "Oh, one sec--" She orders her drink much more quickly than she might usually so that she can slide on over down the bar to Tiffany while she waits for it. "Hey," she greets.
Left to her own devices briefly, Tiffany angles her body to more easily observe the stage. She brings her latte to her mouth only to lower it as Lexie reappears in her orbit. She leaves a pop of red lipstick on the foam and rim of the mug, "Hey." She does her best to hide the glint of amusement in her eye at Lexie's return.
The next poem to be read is about a guy and his dog. It is very literal.
Lexie's gaze drops very briefly to the swipe of red on the rim of Tiffany's mug when she lowers it. "Hi," she says, which is kind of redundant at this point. "I'm Lexie."
Eyes widening once more, Tiffany shifts her eyes. "Hi," she repeats with a breathy chuckle. The corners of her mouth curve upward enough to reveal a row of teeth, "I'm uh, Tiffany." She sets her mug down on the bar and switches her crossed legs. She runs the tip of her ring finger under the line of her bottom lip to make sure her lipstick hasn't smeared, "Sorry. Did you want to sit down? I can move my bag." She's not sorry.
Alexandra shrugs in a totally Cool and Casual way. "I could," she says. "If you're not bothered." She glances over when her name is called out by the barista. "Um. One sec -- again." It's cold brew -- in the fucking snow, Lexie?? -- so it's a quick make. She snatches it up and tries to sidle back all smooth-like. "Your lipstick is so on point," she tells Tiffany.
"Thanks, it's my sister's. I think it's called something French," Tiffany reaches with a stick-like arm to lift up her purse and hang it on the hook just under the bar. Her body tips under the bag's weight. "I don't mind," she says dryly, flicking her eyes over towards the guy on stage starting to cry about his dog, "That's really sad." And yet, she expresses no emotion while saying that.
"'Something French?' Kind of a lazy name." Lexie's lips widen into a grin at her own joke. She slides into the seat next to Tiffany once it's free of the bag, managing to totally miss whatever the guy on stage has been talking about. "What?" Her gaze swivels around to spot him crying. "Oh. Um." She blinks.
"No, it's /in/ French. It's like 'whore' in French or something," Tiffany laughs, and then immediately whispers an apology to the crowd and reader when her LAUGHTER is glared at. She brings her fingers up to the tip of her nose to try and stifle it.
"I didn't take French. Alas." Lexie looks super broken up about it. But she does glare right back at the looks from the crowd, leaning over Tiffany a little so she can ask the nearest, "Can I /help/ you?" while the other woman works to stifle her laughter.
"Stop that," Tiffany swats playfully in Lexie's direction as the other woman defends her. Leaning back in her barstool, she appears to regain her composure, "My /dream/ is to be overtaken by a pitchfork and torch-wielding mob."
"Oh, sorry," Lexie says, resting a hand on Tiffany's arm and looking deeply apologetic. She looks back over at the glaring crowd and whispers, "She says 'fuck you.'" She offers Tiffany a smile. Look how helpful she is.
Tiffany's entire body gives a little jolt and she presses a hand to her stomach in surprise. "Oh my god!" She hisses, doing her best to contain her giggling which only manages to attract more attention. Her eyes give a slow, theatrical roll, "You're going to get us kicked out a /poetry jam/."
"What? No, didn't I just say I keep them afloat with all my cold brew?" Speaking of which, Lexie sucks down a gulp through her straw. "They can't kick me out. I'm, like -- the most beloved member of Mutant Town." Her smile spreads a bit despite herself at Tiffany's giggling.
Tiffany's eyebrows flick up, "Yeah, well, I'm not. And I didn't even pay for /this." She presses her smile into a smirk as she gestures to her latte, considering Lexie with a pleasant sort of skepticism, "Why would you get a cold drink when it's snowing out?"
"Because I'm rebellious," Lexie claims, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "It's not snowing in /here/. The heat's working. Why not?"
"I can respect that," from behind her heavy lashes, Tiffany maintains eye contact in a slightly predatory manner, "And I mean, yeah, the main patron of Oddball can do what she wants. You're hair is gorgeous." Tiffany offers as Lexie flips hers, fingering her own shoulder-length hair. The compliment lingers in her expression, as if she might have more good to things to say. "Must be all the coffee."
Lexie's smile widens, sudden and genuine and pleased. "Thanks," she says, twisting a lock around one finger. "I think conditioner is probably more likely, but who knows. Science is always discovering new things. Next it'll be the connection between caffeine and hair health."
Tiffany purses her lips and just shakes her head. Her hand flutters up in a flippant, self-deprecating gesture. "I'm not a scientist," she admits. Cat's out of the bag.
Alexandra props her chin on the bar and considers Tiffany with a smile lingering on her lips. "What are you, then?" she wonders.
"What do you think I am?" Tiffany asks, looking down to her drink momentarily before very slowly looking back up to Lexie. She runs her index finger along the rim of her drink and scoops up a bit of the foam. Bringing it to her lips, she slides just the tip of her finger into her mouth and gulps it down.
Lexie's gaze follows the trace of Tiffany's finger, briefly distracted, before lifting back to her eyes with a quick smirk. "A poet, of course," she says.
Tiffany isn't looking at Lexie's eyes. She's looking at her mouth. When the other woman looks back at her, it takes a moment for Tiffany to look back up as well. "That I am," she agrees quietly, offering the softest nod of her chin. She doesn't ask what the other woman does. She doesn't want to know, "An impoverished poet, though. So, you should buy me a drink sometime."
"Didn't you just say you got that latte for free?" Lexie teases, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Still, she says in sly agreement, "I could show you around a few places."
"I did," Tiffany laughs, again. Her Eyes glow momentarily as she connects, and transfers her contact info to Lexie. At the innuendo, or what Tiff takes as an innuendo, Tiffany innocently shrugs both of her shoulders and flutters her lashes.
"Well, I can't fault your honesty," Lexie says. Her smile lingers as her Eye shows the appearance of Tiffany's contact details. "Why thank you," she says. "I guess I'll have to figure out which of our local dives is the diviest."
"I can't wait," Tiffany smiles coolly, sliding off of her stool. "I should get home," she tilts her head, as if disappointed that she has to be super mysterious at go. She pulls on her coat, sliding her purse strap up her arm to rest in the crook of her elbow, "But maybe sometime next week. -Oh! You know, what?" Tiffany was just about to step away, but she looks to the corners of her eyes in thought, "I'm going away next week. I have to go on a road trip with a bunch of gay dudes I work with to 'deliver a package.'" She does make the air-quotes, "But soon."
"Oh, that's funny, my--" Lexie stops. She considers. Nah, no way. "I guess it's road trip season," she decides instead. She slides her hair back over her shoulder again, since Tiffany was all complimentary about it earlier. "Sure, maybe we can hang out when you get back."Tiffany notices the movement, eyes following it momentarily. "I guess it is," she accepts. Everyone goes on road trips when it's snowing out. "When I get back," she agrees quietly with a smile. She nods a little goodbye and turns to walk coolly out of the cafe, waving goodbye to someone she knows along the way.