2012 04 15 Misery And Company

Log Title:
Misery and Company

Characters:
Night Thrasher, Phantasm

IC Date:
15 April 2012

Location:
The Night Owl

Brief Log Summary::
Mike and Dwayne run into each other at a bar and exchange stories about how crappy their week was

Rating:
pg13

There is no TS in this log::
Yes

Post your log::
-==[ The Night Owl - New York ]==---------

One would notice immediately that this place doesn't necessarly fit into the neighborhood; for one, it's nice, and another, there's no gang bangers tearing down the place. Bouncers s are seen throughout the room and secure it from being destroyed by the rif-raf.

This room is very dimmy lit, the only light in this room is from the blue light above the bar and four dim lamps that quater the room; yet many of the tables will have small candles for singular illumination. Along the back wall is the bar, where people may sit, drink and enjoy a clear view of the bar via a wide mirror. You also spot two private booths where meetings of sorts maybe held, or just people that want to talk privately. Throughout the room are tables with chairs for patrons to relax and enjoy their time here. The sounds of music, people talking, laughing and having a good time fills your ears.

The Night Owl is quiet this evening. With the promise of a work week starting the next week for most, a lot of people are a little fearful of the hangover. With his work schedule being far from usual and some less than stellar events occuring this past week. It leads to it being a prime time for Mike to show up. It's not his apartment, there's beer, reasonably good security and there's no crowd tonight. Perfect. Opting to take a table, where the seats aren't quite bolted to the floor. The knit cap wearing Mike's working on his second beer with an empty dark bottle upon the table to witness another bottle suffer the same fate.

Kind of a similar vein in why Dwayne has showed up to the Owl today. Dwayne Michael Taylor has had a rough week. There's a bandage taped to the side of his head, so one can assume the type of week he has had. Dwayne sits, alone, at a table in the back. Usually you see groups in these tables, but Dwayne seems to be the only person to occupy it. He sits there, looking off at the empty bench across from him. There's a small plate of various finger foods in front of him and a glass of ginger ale in front of him, he's not old enough to drink afterall.

The second bottle doesn't last long, and soon the empty body is placed next to it's brother before the musician looks over to the bar, wating to get the bartender's attention before giving an uptilt of the chin and a 'one more' gesture. Left to waiting and not drinking, he sighs, glancing around the area once more, taking note of any new patrons, or those he may not have payed heed to initially in his wish to just get some beer. Pale blue eyes settle upon Dwayne. The general out of context environment of the bar not helping with his recollection too much but the general face does make him pause in his glance as he tries to place him.

A server comes up to Dwayne's table while Dwayne stares off into the space occupied by no one in the seat in front of him. The server stands beside Dwayne's table for a moment before clearing her throat and saying, "Mr. Taylor? Excuse me, Mr. Taylor? Would you like another Ginger Ale, sir? Or warm up your starters? Anything?" Dwayne snaps out of it and turns to look at the woman. He shakes his head, "Er, uh. No. Not yet, at least. Thank you." The server nods and heads off to another table or the bar or wherever she needs to go. After she has left, Dwayne takes a moment to scan the room himself. His eyes settle on the knit-cap-wearing musician. If their eyes meet, he will offer a nod of greeting.

When Dwayne's glance settles on him and their eyes meet, he returns the nod of greeting. It takes a few more moments before the young man before him finally rings some bells within and his expression starts to register this event. He also recalls something else that popped up in the news to which he frowns slightly. Well. Doesn't this beat all? still looking to Dwayne, He tilts his head questiongly as he gestures to the empty seat that Dwayne's been looking to earlier.

Dwayne grabs his glass of ginger ale and swirls it around idlly. When Mike gestures towards the seat directly in front of him, Dwayne jerks his head to the side inviting the musician over to join him. After the invitation is provided, Dwayne raises a hand to gingerly tap at the bandage on his head. The glass, meanwhile, is raised to his lips and Dwayne drains a little more of the sparkly beverage.

Invitation granted, Mike gets up from his seat just in time for the waitress to show up by the table with his beer. Murmuring thanks, he takes the drink and carries it over to Dwayne's table, abandoning his own to be cleaned up. "Haven't run into you in awhile," he says to Dwayne, opting not to mention his name as he pulls out the seat to seat himself down, "Took me a moment to recognize you in this setting."

Dwayne humphs in response to Mike, "I don't have one of those, 'Hey is that…?' kinda faces." He pauses and asks, "The rockstar, right? That was a fun event…" Dwayne says as Mike reaches his table. He nods, "It has been sometime. How's life treating you?"

Mike nods, "Yeah. The rockstar. " He grows quiet, taking time to study the bottle, as he works on a tactful response. It's not a successful endeavour. "It's actually been kind of a shitty week," he admits, "And how're you doing?"

Dwayne raises a hand and taps at the bandage on his head in response to Mike's question. He elaborates, "Know how Fridays are supposed to be pretty awesome because it's the end of the work week? This is what happened after I left work. I was attacked outside of a church." He humphs humorlessly at that thought.

"So, pretty shitty as well." Mike presumes, shaking his head as he takes another swig of beer. "Funny how a week could go by perfectly but one thing happens and completely changes how we describe it, huh?" He leans back in the seat, frowning, "Buried one of the guys involved in the festival tour on Wednesday. Turns out another one of the people injured from the attack took a turn for the worse in the hospital. Wade's still in."

"Sounds pretty rough." Dwayne says as he looks down to his Ginger Ale. He shakes his head, "So, you came here on a Sunday to drink the troubles away, I take it? Or you just taking a break before heading back to the hospital?" Dwayne looks back up from the beverage, "And I suppose any touring you may have been doing is called off, too?"

"Not the closer dates at least." Mike murmurs, shaking his head, "There's just a lot of things to try and figure out and other things to consider." The bottle lowers to set on the table, "Any ideas to who attacked you?"

Dwayne shakes his head in response to the question, "Nor do I know why. I am not really one of those high priority targets, you know? I don't believe in hiring bodyguards. I have money, yeah, but this gave me a different vibe than someone trying to intimidate me for money." He pauses, "From what I understand, Bazookas aren't really used for that kind of intimidation."

"A bazooka?" Mike repeats, "That's…kind of overkill if they're trying to kill y-" He pauses, considering the use of Scorpia, "…maybe they wanted to draw attention."

Dwayne grimaces at what Mike says, "Overkill." he repeats matter of factly, "Kind of, sort of. Yeah." He takes another swig of the ginger ale, "But 'why' is kinda the question that keeps floating around in my mind. Who wants to attack me? Outside of a church? Really?" He gestures towards Mike, "I suppose you've got a similar series of questions rolling around up there." He gestures towards Mike's head.

"More or less," Mike replies, giving a nod, lifting the bottle again, "Kind of figured I only had to watch out for that nutbag from the subway. But I guess I pissed someone off big." He downs a bit of beer before giving a forced chuckle, "Maybe I cut them off in traffic or something. Hear there's a problem with road rage." Great theory. If Mike had a car.

The young heir shrugs his shoulders, "Yeah. Road rage is pretty big in New York. However, I doubt that theory. You ever see road rage in Seattle or Washington D.C.?" Dwayne shakes his head and suggests, "Maybe, it was a case of mistaken identity? 'Cause that's what I am going with in my case…" He says this knowing it's not true in his case.

Mike tilts the bottle towards Dwayne, "Okay, I'll take that. That'd work. It'd have to be mistaken identity if it was Road Rage being I don't own a car." He considers, "Maybe I should check to see if the folks who mess with my mail came across any of the hate variety. They've got to be holding that stuff back." His eyes avert as he starts to sip some more beer. Ah the joys of not being truthful all around.

Dwayne slowly pushes his empty glass towards the edge of the table and humphs. He offers a nod to the musician, "Probably best so that you don't dwell on it too long." He pauses and asks, "The police involved in investigating the attacks? I would imagine at this point they would be."

Mike nods, "Yeah, all it took was a body count, some structural damage, and some publicity to kick them in gear." Considering this guy has participated in functions to help raise funds for some of the community outreach programs led by some police departments, his tone regarding them seems a bit, well, bitter. It must've been a really shitty week.

The server comes back by the table, "Mr. Taylor; Do you need a refill on your beverage or need more starters?" Dwayne turns his gaze away from Mike and towards the server. He gives her a nod in reply, "Yeah. Another Ginger Ale. And a bowl of nachos or something." He looks back over to Mike, "Yeah, I think I gave money to one of those events or one of those charities…"

Eyes shift over to the server, who is kind of cute actually. (Thank the poor economy for bringing back the the HOT waitresses WOOH!) He gives a slight smile but with Dwayne's comments, Mike blinks, looking back over to him. "They do have a lot of charity drives that's for sure. Makes you wonder how they can afford the salaries."

The Heir sees Mike looking at the waitress. He, too, checks her out as she leaves with his order. The look on Dwayne's face, though, doesn't appear to be one of interest. He looks away from the retreating waitress and back to Mike. He humphs, "Just another typical week in the Big Apple, I suppose. Can't go a week without a random attack or the Wrecking Crew tearing down a skyscraper…"

"Or a parade getting crashed by supernaturals, or a building getting set on fire…" Mike continues, listing other examples of 'New York moments', He shakes his head, sipping the beer before adding, "Well, I can say at least it's not boring around here. Although, I'd be willing to trade some of those moments for a bit of that."

Dwayne shrugs his shoulders just as his order arrives. The empty glass is slid to the edge of the table to be retrieved by the retreating waitress. Dwayne takes his fresh glass and swirls it around, "Hah. You know some would tell us we invite these kind of 'moments' simply by refusing to leave." He pauses to take a sip of his ginger ale. When he sets the beverage down, he grins, "Then I would ask those people where they expected me to live? Jersey?"

A brow lifts as Dwayne cracks a joke about Jersey. "I actually had a pretty happy childhood over there," Mike points out, frown deepening as he lifts up the bottle once more, "Well, except for the ending part."

Dwayne raises his free hand and waves defensively, "Ah, man. I'm sorry. I was just joking." he pauses, "It's New Jersey. It's a joke originating with love." His hand drops back to the table and he grabs his glass with both hands. He drops into some silence for a moment, the only noise he makes is the clanking of ice cubes against his glass as he swishes the ginger ale around.

The defensive gesture gets Mike to smile weakly "Yeah, but you got to factor in before I was eighteen, my living locations were Jersey and Hell's Kitchen." Mike replies, leaning back in his seat, "Chelsea's nicer though."

Dwayne humphs with amusement as he leans back in his seat, "Almost anything would be, right?" Another joke and he immediately raises a hand in defense after it is uttered. The young heir adds, "You're moving up in life. It just means having to survive New York and its… 'quirks'." He smiles a bit, "Even after having a bazooka shot at me, I wouldn't trade New York for anywhere. Though, we all have to work to make our community better."

"It's been a lot of hard work, regardless of what people might say." Mike says with a nod, eyeing the bottle as it's now emptied. He sets it back on the table with a sigh, "And we've got a lot of work cut out for us for making things better."

Dwayne shrugs his shoulders in response, "We do what we can do. Musicians, like you, have a great means of spreading information and awareness. You're in different towns and on different stages. Different audiences. An enviable position if you ever wanted to keep people informed." Dwayne continues leaning back in his seat, "People like me; We do our part by funding such things, I suppose. I guess I could give speeches and go out and do interviews, as well."

Mike nods, ignoring the empty bottle as he shakes his head to the questioning glance given by the server. Nah, that's enough for tonight. "Making appearances are pretty much what I can do for things. Income's not QUITE enough to be doing those big time donations… At least not with this city's cost of living expense."

Dwayne purses his lips a bit at the comment on the cost of living. The young heir doesn't really know much about that, he has never wanted due to the fortune that was his birthright. Dwayne rests his elbows against the table and steeples his fingers in front of him, "Yeah, I can imagine it can be difficult for a struggling artist sometimes."

Mike shakes his head, "That's the thing. I'm not exactly 'struggling'." He holds up his hands in quotation, "It's just things are just so damn expensive."

Dwayne has a thoughtful expression on his face after he listens to Mike's statement. He nods and shrugs his shoulders, "I didn't mean-" He stops and shakes his head, "Kinda not meaning a lot of what I am saying, huh? I concur; Gas, Food, Energy; All of it's too expensive. And the city's taxes don't really help, right?" An awkward smile forms on his face, "Add that to random supervillain and assassin and ninja attacks…"

"Insurance premiums are sky high." Mike supplies to the end of that sentence, nodding, "And then you have to consider what if you can't work for awhile-

AFLAC!!!!

Shut up! Stupid Goose.

-you have to factor that into the savings and emergency stuff."

Dwayne humphs at what Mike says, "Yeah. That totally sounds like something you'd hear on a TV Commercial." is his quip. He raises his glass back up off the table and drains the rest of the ginger ale from it. He waves a hand to ward off any attentive waitress.

Mike tilts forward in his chair a bit to pull out his wallet. "Or something you realize after you've seen friends get knocked into that unable to work category." He thumbs open the billfold, pulling out a couple bills before starting to put the wallet back, "Wade had to go through quite a few surguries and some recovery before he could play again… And now he's back in the hospital. Shit happens. Got to prepare."

The heir is quiet as Mike pulls out his wallet and his money. He's quiet even more when Wade is brought up. He offers a nod of agreement, "You are right. Just gotta prepare. Always be vigilant, I guess…" He cuts his eyes to the side as he thinks about his own situation with those words in mind.

The musician leans forward once more, putting up the wallet, "And maybe hope for some luck to compliment that too." He adds, starting to get up as he sets the cash down with his bottle for the waitress next time she comes around. "Alright, I probably should start heading back now. Nice running into you, Taylor." He cracks a small smile, "And stay out of trouble."

Dwayne nods and grunts at Mike, "Hey; I'm going to wish you the same thing. I'll stay out of trouble if you do." He cracks a forced smile and raises a hand to wave at the musician, "Take it easy."

Mike nods, smile strengthening a little, "I'll do my best." Giving a nod, he turns and heads out.

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