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2046-05-06 Reconnaissance Poetry

From X-Factor

Reconnaissance Poetry
Date Posted 2016/05/06
Location Oddball Coffee - Mutant Town, NYC
Participants Alexandra, Tiffany
Summary Lexie is at Oddball totally not stalking Christian and Tiff is at Oddball writing poetry about someone she's totally stalked. (Don't freak out. She stalks everyone.)
 
Tiftiffany.jpg Lexlexie.JPG
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.

On the side of the Oddball facing 14th Street, anti-mutant graffiti has been scrawled. Impossible to miss as one enters. A circle with the words 'Staten Island' scrawled inside it is crossed out with a giant X, the words, 'X-GENE KILLS, NEVER FORGET' sprayed in over-sized script below it. It's accompanied by a more stylized graffiti drawing of a giant squid. Some might recognize that as the Kraken, a symbol that's become popular with the Friends of Humanity.


It is a spring day. The weather is warm and clear.


It's actually totally normal and not at all noteworthy for Lexie to be sitting in Oddball. The way she watches a certain young barista behind the counter goof off with another -- is that a hose involved?? -- is professionally subtle, certainly enough so that her target hasn't noticed. She sucks down her iced coffee and works on digital files that don't actually require much attention, or that she can fake her way through for now. Doot doot. Doot doot.

"She's totally fine," Tiffany chirps sweetly into her Ears as she enters Oddball, lingering in the doorway. Her voice is several octaves higher than her traditional speaking voice. "I was just there, I was borrowing some shoes." Despite the sing-song manner of her voice, the psionic is totally expressionless. She roll she rolls her eyes, but her voice reacts with happy amusement, "/And/ checking in on her. Daddy, she's fine. This sort of thing happens all the time. You know how she chooses to live her life. Mhm. Mmhm, love you, too. Mmkay. Bye-bye." She ain't even embarrassed.

The shoes Tiffany borrowed? High-heeled boots that go about mid-thigh, leaving a gap of exposed flesh between the brown leather of the ...footwear... and a pair of tailored tweed shorts.

Tiff sets her purse at Lexie's table, blowing the other woman a kiss as she strides over to the barista counter in a series of confident clicks, fiddling with the fabric of her deceptively modest top. She explains, producing an already empty coffee cup, that some maniac spilled her coffee after bumping into her. The end result is returning to Lexie's table with a full, free cup of coffee. "Oh, hi," she pants, sliding into the opposite seat without invitation.

Alexandra is clearly not expecting visitors: she blinks her gaze suddenly into focus on the purse now on her table, and then she follows Tiffany with her eyes as the other woman swans over to get her -- hah -- free coffee. She blinks again when she returns. "Hi," she says, only now really catching up to the fact that this is happening.

"What are you doing? Work?" Tiffany asks pivoting her legs out from under the table so that they are in full view when she crosses them. "I just woke up," she brings her coffee to her lips, scoffing like life is so hard.

"Uh. Yeah," Lexie says, because technically it's true. She squints at Tiffany a bit. "Man, it's even late for /me/," she says with the barest hint of a smile.

"What can I say? I'm a professional," Tiffany sets her coffee down, pulling over her purse to retrieve a small writing notebook. The pages are stuffed with loose leaf notes of scribble. As she shifts through the bag for a very specific pen, it might seem like she's getting settled in.

"A professional what?" Lexie wonders just a touch dryly as she lifts her iced coffee for another sip.

"Hibernating kodiak bear," Tiffany's tone is no less monotone than it usually is. Leaning forward, she lets out a low rumbling growl the closer she comes to her coffee. She doesn't lift the cup up. Instead, she takes a sip right from where it sits on the table. The angry bear within is satiated.

"That does sound like a pretty good gig," Lexie is forced to admit. She watches Tiffany lean over to sip the coffee hands-free from the table. "Are you having an issue with your paws?" she wonders.

As it so happens, both of Tiffany’s hands are still clasped on her purse. Leaning back again, she finally sets out her pen before hanging the bag off of her chair. “You mean my bare hands?” Her eyebrows flick up as if she just said something suggestive, even though she most certainly didn’t. Until she frowns. “Ugh. I think we’ve both been hanging around near Professor Wallace too much.” The poetess flips open her notebook, thumbing through it to where she wants to be.

"Oh my God," Lexie says, which leads right into an out loud cackle. "What, does he have some sort of monopoly on puns? Do we have to make royalty payments to him?"

"He'll dock our wages," Tiffany suggests mildly, pressing her hand against her open poetry journal in order to flatten it out. She clicks her pen, making a tiny notation in the margin of an already filled page. It's done with enough confidence to suggest that she'd had it in the back of her mind for quite a while.

Off at the counter, Alexandra's little research subject continues to joke around harmlessly with his co-workers.

"Hnng." Lexie catches her bottom lip between her teeth, a smile threatening her lips. Her gaze drops to Tiffany's page and then back up, curious. "Are you writing more sex poetry?" she asks. Restless, her gaze flits next to Christian behind the bar.

"It's about a man," Tiffany starts, chewing on her bottom lip as she writes, "Who sleeps with his gun." Looking up to Lexie, she lazily glances over to the counter as well but finds nothing of interest there. "He's afraid of something, I think. I'm not sure. But yes. To answer your question. Are you- are you out of coffee or something?" Why are you looking over there, Lexie?

"That sounds remarkably less sexual than your previous poetry," Lexie notes, but not without interest. She looks back at Tiffany, blinking. "What? Uh. No. I've still got some." She rattles her cup, ice tinkling, in clear evidence.

"It's got a more phallic vibe than I'm letting on," Tiffany drolls before backpedaling, "That's a joke. It doesn't." She taps her pen against the paper, glancing out towards the rest of the cafe patrons. "It's sad. Maybe invokes a little pity, even."

Alexandra's unknowing subject is on the move, now. He pulls on a ratty black hoody on as he skips around the counter onto the civilian side. Swinging in one hand is a heavy black guitar case stamped: Property of Saint Luke's. He waves an enthusiastic goodbye to his work friends, passing inches from Lexie and Tiff on his way out of the door.

"Sad poetry sounds depressing," Lexie says, but her voice is distracted as she catches Christian pulling on his hoodie and heading out of the shop. She shoots a quick glance at Tiffany, thinking fast. "Anyways, I've -- gotta run. Work and all." She starts gathering up her things.

Tiffany tilts her head. Her large, spokey-lidded eyes narrow in an expression of skepticism. "O-" Her mouth forms a small circle as she wordlessly watches Lexie suddenly scramble to be rid of her. "-kay."

It's definitely personal. Sooooo personal. Tiffany's just the worst. And she smells. Lexie offers her a quick, apologetic smile. "Yeah, I'll see you around!" she says as she totally abandons the woman she totally offered a threesome to once.

Tiffany does smell faintly ...of her sister's Vera Wang perfume, which she stole. (It's not like that, Jacque never even wears it.)

Within minutes some dude who wants to work alone on his laptop saddles up, placing his hand on Lexie's empty chair. "Do you mind if I work here?" He offers a chiseled jaw smile.

"I do mind," Tiffany says darkly, not even looking up.

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