Participants:
| Scene Title | A Side of Fun |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Melissa predicts a dark future for Felix if he can't get some downtime. |
| Date | April 26, 2010 |
While it may be well below zero outside, inside the Nite Owl it's warm and toasty. Which is probably at least fifty percent of the reason that Melissa is in here at the moment. She's sitting at a booth by herself, and has opted to leave her knit hat on, despite having taken off her coat, scarf and gloves. There's a cup of coffee on the table, but she seems to be focusing on her burger and fries. Well, sort of focusing. She spends two minutes dragging a single fry through her ketchup before nibbling on it. All the while she stares out the window with a thoughtful expression.
He's got a black fedora on, god help him, to go with the black overcoat. Fel looks like a cross between Humphrey Bogart and Death Himself, as he shoves open the plate glass door with an impatient motion of his hand, admitting a blast of chill air. Not a take out order, it'd seem - he pauses just beyond the door, to stamp snow out of the treads of his boots, before advancing to the counter.
It's the sound of boots stomping that has Melissa blinking herself 'awake' and glancing over. Huh? There are other people around? It takes a moment before recognition hits, and then she's grimacing ever so faintly. After all, last time she saw him she was busy sneaking a teenager out from under his nose. Yet she does nothing to prevent him from noticing her, just picks up her coffee, sips at it, and studies him.
Sempiternal winter has been intensely unkind. Fel's like a faded photo of himself, colorless and gaunt, blue eyes dull, hollows at temple and cheekbone and jaw. The structure of the skull under the skin is disturbingly evident. He takes off his hat, draws off his gloves one by one, with the finicking motions of a vulture plucking feathers off its meal, tucks them away in his coat pocket as he settles at the counter. If he's noticed her, he gives no sign. "Soup, ham sandwich, please," he orders, once he's caught a waitress's eye.
"Taking a break from catching the bad guys, Felix?" Melissa asks as she sets her cup down, replacing it with a french fry, again dragging it through the ketchup before eating it.
It takes him a moment for recognition to dawn. Like memory's on five second delay. "Something like that," he agrees, with a grin like a crescent moon.
One brow arches slightly. "Something like that? What, don't tell me you got canned," Mel says, before waving a hand absently at the other side of the booth in clear invitation.
He hesitates, and then comes towards her, unbuttoning his coat, clumsily. He's wearing his usual suit beneath it. "No. Just off for the day," he says, as he seats himself across from her.
"Ahh…Well, days off can be good. I'm personally all too ready to get to work myself. But that's because I haven't had a chance to really start because of the weather," Melissa says, nodding.
Felix wonders, in the middle of polishing his glasses with a paper napkin stolen from the dispenser, "Oh?" It's as if he can't remember what she actually does.
Melissa nods. "Got hired as a manager at a club. Hasn't really opened yet, because not much point in doing that right now. We'd get like, half a dozen people. If that."
He snorts at that, ungenteelly. "Yeah, no kidding." The fedora gets laid aside on the bench of the booth, and he puts his glasses down on the table, and sighs. And then promptly goes boneless and limp, as if he fully intended to take a nap, right there.
Melissa's brows lift. "You okay, dude? Not gonna like, pass out on me or somethin', are you? Tell me you don't got the 510."
"No, I'm exhausted. I got vaccinated, I don't have Captain Tripps," Fel says, as he folds his hands neatly over his belly, lets his head fall back against the faded glitter vinyl.
"Captain Tripps?" Melissa asks curiously. "And if you're exhausted, why are you here getting soup instead of at home getting eight hours of sleep? Or more?"
Felix notes, "Because I have more work to do. And I'm hungry, and where else is open at this hour, in these conditions?" Indeed, the rest of the street beyond is dark. It's enough to make it look even more like that Hopper painting, as the wind flings handfuls of snow against the plate glass windows, already dripping with condensation.
"More work? On your day off? Dude. You need to learn how to enjoy your days off," Melissa says with a faint smile. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you're supposed to enjoy those days? Not just…work more."
Felix levels a rather blank and incomprehending stare at her. I don't speak that language. "I've got a lot to do," he says, mildly, after a long moment.
Melissa shrugs at that answer and picks up her coffee again, draining the cup and signaling for a refill. "Your choice. But all work and no play makes Felix put a bullet through his brain." Someone's a tad morbid. Or maybe just highly pessimistic.
She's not the only one. That leaves him silent, before he's suddenly greatly absorbed in the menu. Nevermind that he can probably recite it in his sleep, from memory.
"Mmm…the lovely being ignored silence. Oh how it warms my heart!" Melissa says with a wry twist to her lips. "So should I bother asking how you've been? I'm guessing overworked would be the appropriate answer."
"So, you're evolved, and stating the obvious is your psychic power. Please register as soon as possible," Fel intones, in the soothing voice of a radio announcer.
"Hey, you decided to join me when I invited you. Generally, eating with someone usually involves this little thing called conversation," Melissa says with a shrug. "And you're not beign that chatty, so I gotta carry the convo for both of us. I'm more than happy to turn over your share to you though."
"I don't know what you want me to say," he says, mildly, as the waitress brings his order. "I am overworked, I can't talk about most of what I do, and right now, that's my life. So, what's this club you mentioned?"
"Well that's a good start," Melissa says, grinning and popping another fry into her mouth. "It's called Tartarus. It's a goth club on the lower east side. When it finally opens, it'll be fuckin' awesome."
Felix says, in all apparent seriousness, as he looks up from spreading mustard on his ham sandwich, "I used to be goth. I had my hair dyed blue, I had piercings."
Melissa cocks her head and studies him for a moment before another grin forms. "Seriously? Mister Fed was goth? Well maybe you should swing by there sometime. Unofficially, of course."
He nods, with magisterial solemnity, "I was. Bauhaus shirt and everything. I don't know. Not so much my scene these days."
"So? Nothing says you can't swing by for a drink or somethin'," Melissa says, shrugging.
"Maybe I will," he says, thoughtfully. "God knows I still have enough black clothing."
Melissa laughs. "Man in black…Should I start calling you J or K?"
Felix permits himself one of those thin-lipped, sphinxish smiles. And just stirs sugar into his coffee.
Melissa cocks her head. "Should I go ahead and scoot and just let you have your meal and get back to work?"
Felix pauses, sighs. "I'm sorry. I don't…it….you're right. I've sort of disappeared into my work. I don't have a lot to say outside of it. What about you?"
Melissa shrugs. "Well like I said, not really working since we can't open yet. Just moved, hating the weather, and…trying not to go crazy. A little crazy is fine, it's interesting, but mega crazy? Nuh uh."
"'Why do you stay here? Many've fled the weather, and who can blame them.," Fel notes, drily, as he doctors his coffee with his usual excess of sugar.
Melissa gives another shrug. "Where else would I go? I've got no family to go to, and I've got a couple of people here who depend on me. I'm not selfish enough to just say fuck 'em."
That gives him pause, and Fel nods, looking more than a little abashed. "Makes sense," he concedes, quietly.
Melissa smiles faintly. "Yeah…guess it does. What about you? You got family here? Or is it just your work keepin' you in the city?"
Felix shakes his head. "No. My remaining family is elsewhere," he confesses, between bites of sandwich.
Melissa nods, then asks, "So why stay? The weather is pretty fuckin' horrible. I mean, it's like, what, twenty-five below? At the end of April?"
"Work," he says, simply. "And….well, fuck, I'm from Moscow. I've seen worse."
Melissa shudders a little at that though. "I'm from the South. My winters consist largely of temperatures that stay above freezing. This? It was a novelty at first, since I'd never really seen snow. Now it's just annoying as fuck."
Felix just shakes his head. "There was this one winter when I was a kid….things were so bad, people were getting around the city by sled. Horse-drawn troika, even, it was nuts."
"No idea what a troika is, but if it's something to get around on snow, I don't wanna know," Melissa says with a faint smile. "I always figured I wanted snow, but I'm a warm-weather girl at heart. Though maybe a couple winters up here will change that."
"Honestly, this is more than enough even for me," he says. "I fucking hate it. I should ask to transfer to Miami, or something."
"So why don't you? If you can do your work there as well as here, then why not go someplace more comfortable?" Melissa asks.
Felix says, after a moment, "Because, honestly, I -can't-. I'm from there, this is what I know. The kind of skills I have….the specific ones aren't so useful down there."
"How so? I mean, I don't know what skills you have besides the Speedy Gonzalez thing, but it seems to me like a Fed can work anywhere there's people commitin' crimes," Melissa muses, sipping on her coffee.
"I speak Russian as a native language, so most of what I've done is organized crime focussing on the Russian mob. Not a lot of those goons down in Miami. I know New York, I grew up here. And….now that I do Evo stuff, this is the hotbed, really," he says, and now the remains of his meal gets handed off to the waitress.
"Though you were from Russia? But yeah, I getcha," Melissa says, nodding to him. "Gotta do what you gotta do. Just try to have some fun too, or you'll burn out fast."
"I was born in Moscow, I lived there until I was about eleven," he explains, settling back again. "And then we fled the country, because Mom got wind of them intending to use me for experiments." His tone is….matter of fact. Weirdly so.
"Found out your were evolved, huh?" Melissa shakes her head. "It's ridiculous how easy they decide to make the evolved lab rats."
Felix nods. "You think what's happened here is bad? You should see the former USSR," he says, quietly. "Also, Mom'd been quietly fucking over the KGB for the past twenty years, so it was time to go. We made it into Austria."
"Sounds like you had a more fucked up childhood than me. Kudos," Melissa says in a dry tone. Then she sets down her now empty coffee cup and reaches for her things. "And I…should probably get goin'. Got a dog at home probably whinin' to go out." Not to mention a teenager who wants to like beer.
Felix laughs at that. "It was perfectly normal for Soviet Russia up until then. And….then it was pretty normal for an immigrant family in New York. I can't complain," he offers her a little salute. "Have a good night."
"Yeah, but not normal for me," Melissa says, smiling as she stands up to put her coat on. "Take it easy, Speedy. And have some fun." The scarf is wrapped around her neck, before she nods to him and saunters towards the door.