11527/=An Afternoon in Mutant Town

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=An Afternoon in Mutant Town
Date of Scene: 09 June 2022
Location: Bushwick <Mutant Town>
Synopsis: Buster and Hex go on a second date.
Cast of Characters: Cheyenne Brawley, Robert Marksman, Valerie Killmore




Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     The streets of Mutant Town are a network of filthy veins flowing with the blood of mutant kind, individuals swirling this way and that like cells through capillaries. A plaque of the homeless, and beggars, lines the sidewalks. Dilapidated buildings, some boarded with tattered plywood, are decaying organs.
     In the midst of this, one cell, picked out in stark black, is motionless. Speed Levitch said that the most radical thing someone can do in New York is stand still, and that is what Cheyenne Brawley has done. He wears a three-piece suit, silk and polished leather. Diamonds and platinum glitter on his waistline and his wrists, and his reddened eyelids are moist with the beginnings of tears. Now and again he turns by a few degrees, hands thrust into his pockets, posture diminished and vulnerable, watching with wide eyes.

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman is out and about walking through the streets, today, he has a backpack over one shoulder, and will nod and smile to this person or that as he walks past them. Those in the area, mostly seem rather friendly with the young man. He will stop and chat to a grocery store merchant for a moment, and says "Thanks Ron, put it on my tab, and send it to the hotel.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     "Excuse me, sir," says Cheyenne to the man with the backpack, once he's finished with the grocer, with a heavy Texan drawl. "Can I ask you for directions?"

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman turns and looks over to the other and eyes move behind the shades taking in the man, and his suit. He nods a bit and says "Sure, where do you need to get to, here in Bushwick, we try to help those new to the area as best we can.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     "I'm lookin' to get a message to a friend," the suited man says with a deep frown, his voice light and tender as he wipes moisture from his eyelids with the back of a thumb. "He works at a bar, called St. Margaret something-or-other. Jacob Walker's his name." Cheyenne takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his posture straightening as he goes; then he extends a hand for Robert to shake. "Mine's Buster."

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman 's brow raises a bit and says "I know of Sister Margret's home for wayword kids, but not a bar named St Margret. He pulls out his phone to say the name of the place. "Lets see if Alexa knows where it is, then I can give you directions. Robert seems relaxed the backpack hanging over one shoulder as they talk. He does shake the man's hand a firm handshake, but not a crushing one. Robert's hands might feel softer than a man who works with his hands all day, but calloused a bit from working out.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Cheyenne strokes the point of his beard, brow furrowed with thought, meanwhile retreiving his hand after they've shaken. "Well, that's strange, Mister. I might be inclined to think I misremember the name, but I'm certain of it - he said the bar's name was a bit of black humor on the part of the owner." He looks at the phone, a little non-plussed - it's clear he doesn't have a gadget of his own.

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman nods and will type it in and once he gets the address and says "Ok, easiest way would be to take the subway to " He gives the guy good directions on how to get to the place, seems he knows the city decently well. "Or if need be you could give your buddy a call and have him meet ya here at the dinner or something if your unsure about getting around the city.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Buster whips a notepad out of a pocket and scralls a hasty record of the directions he is given in his rolling chickenscratch. He reads the details back for confirmation, then slips it back into an unseed pocket of his jacket. "Thanks bud," he says with a broad smile, but it quickly fades. "Say, man, what in the world is going on here?" He lifts his arms outstretched, palms up, to indicate their surroundings. "I've only been here for a New York minute, but I've never seen any other place like this in the city." Almost as an afterthought, glancing down at the tip of a cowboy boot, which he shuffles aimlessly, he adds just above a whisper: "breaks my dag-gone heart."

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman looks to the other man and says "Well we are working on making it a better place but it takes time. This is Bushwick, also known as Mutant Town, the mutant ghetto if you will. Place may look a bit run down, but folks here look after one another, and as I said working to improve the place.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Nodding along as Robert speaks, Buster says, "Yeah," when he's finished, his smile returning. "Lookin' after one another." He slips his hands from his pockets and claps them together, once. "What can a body do to help?" He glances around, as if there would be a neon sign flashing somewhere, saying 'start here'.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
This space, it's almost like a second home. Sure it's no Hell's Kitchen what with all the violence at HK, but there's a fair amount of bodies that show up in Mutant Town as well. And of all people, even though she's not technically a mutant, she sure fits in what with the blue hair and the pink eyes that tend to seem like they are glowing albeit subtly. "No, I'm not!" Shouts Hex as she comes out of an alleyway, and then does a crossed arm motion that showcases how she's flipping someone off down the way. Who exactly? It's uncertain, there's a lot of people down the alley, and then she's turning and walking away. Hand fiddling with a large steampunk ish pistol on her thigh, holstered there, with a single wide barrel more fitting a shotgun or 'hand cannon' than a pistol.

"Making it better? Don't do that, I find all sorts of things here. Things get thrown out, people get thrown out, this place is perfect. All the discarded stuff." And it's a conversation she wasn't part of, but she intercedes easily enough as she's strolling through.

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman 's brow raises a bit and looks over to Valerie as she joins the conversation ""Well it depends, on what you can and want to do. A guy passing through not sure, I ended up moving here to help out, with my clinic." He motions towards the medical clinic. Basicly a lot like most inner city areas, you just need to figure out what your good at and how it will help folks." To Valerie and says "Helping folks and bettering their lives here is a good thing."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Buster nods along, once again, as Robert speaks. "Right on, man. I've got some ideas. And as it happens, I'm lookin' for a permanent place to stay, en lieu of a hotel. Maybe I'll find a little hole in the wall somewhere around here." After a brief pause, eyes distant for a moment, he adds quietly, "I aint no stranger to bein' poor." Then his demeanor abruptly changes; he grins and rolls his eyes as Valerie streaks by - he gestures her way with a thumb and makes an expression at Robert as if to say 'don't mind her'. "Hiiiii Hex," he says in a patient, good-humored way, "how's my favorite bluenette today?"

Valerie Killmore has posed:
"You're a doctor?" Looking over at the clinic and shaking her head, Hex sort of grimaces on one side of her face more than another, it's a smirkace, and she rolls her eyes, "Doctors ... don't trust them myself." Though to Buster she pauses and stops talking for a moment, right? Like that ever happens. And she runs a dirty gloved hand up and through her big forward bangs that come out almost like a ponytail, just from the front, and she says, "Uh, sure, buster, hey. Yep. Going ... well, I'm a bit further along on the owkay aserlay. Found a femur in the dumpster back over that way, some guy claimed it was his so I told him to 'fetch' then and tossed it... now I have to go find it." She says, in a serious tone.

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman 's brow raises a bit higher at the pig latin cow laser. He looks back to Buster, and says "There are a few opening in some of the apartment buildings, and a couple long term places open in the hotel." He motions towards the older hotel, that seems well taken care of "Bottom couple floors are community related places but we still rent some short term and long term rooms.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Buster turns and eyes The Centinel as Robert describes it, then pops with a flush of exicted energy, snapping as he makes finger guns at the other man. "Perfect, thanks bud! I'ma take a long-term room there and see about some things..." He looks around the street again, now fingering the point of his beard with inspired thought. "Hey Hex," he turns to her with a broad grin, "I don't suppose you'd like to do an art project for me? I'll pay ya, o' course. Ya know, with junk, er, I mean parts, or whatever."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
There's a pause, and Hex looks to Robert, then back to Buster, then back to Robert, then back to Buster. She sighs when he moves on to a different topic. The subterfuge worked, the small smile clearly saying she got away with something there, then turns her head clearly back Buster, "Wait, wait wait. People pay for art projects? I did 3 on my way here. On a car..." She counts on her fingers, "On a window to a building, not sure what it was, may have been a restaurant could've been something else. And on a person's forehead. Zero dollars, zero parts." She shrugs and shakes her head, her eyes getting a bit wide as she thinks about all the money/parts she's missed out on. "This WHOLE time, I've been workin' fer FREE!" And then she's taking in a deep breath, and then tilts her head to the side, so far that she's also twisting her upper body, and practically looking at Buster upside down, "Whaddya want? I could do a cheshire cat, that'll light up, real well." To Robert, "You pay for art? Are you also a landlord or something? Two terrible professions by the way."

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman looks over and says "Landlord? yes and no, I own the building, let others handle running them, just make sure the places are safe and reasonable prices, and all that. As for art, I have been known to pay for some, but never really had anyone pat for mine either, so don't feel to bad."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Buster pauses and looks to the sun-shaded fellow. "Wait, you OWN the hotel? Hot damn, buddy, the Lord meant for us to meet today." He positions himself between Robert and Hex, absent-mindedly venturing to drape an arm over each of their shoulders, with his attention focused somewhere in the distance, a la Buzz Lightyear. "Think of the possibilities, y'all... Mutants as far as the eye can see. Prospering. Happy. Showin' the world the kinda folk we REALLY are." He turns toward Valerie and waggles his eyebrows. "You understand economics, right, Hex? I mean, if everyone in Bushwick was gettin' paid proper, they'd have more money to buy stuff, more stuff'd get thrown out, and YOU, my gal, would have more choice parts and pieces for your, you know, projects." Buster busts with enthusiam, and can't help laughing. "Aw man, I caint wait to get started."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
"A doctor AND a landlord, ayup." And Hex just lightly shakes her head though there's a moment where she's about to take a step forward and then Buster makes some word choices and she shrugs, "I ... I guess. I mean, I've never really had a head for economics. And there are plenty of already discarded things, I'd feel kind of bad if there were more discarded things, but then... I'd have more things to fiddle with." She starts pacing, like that's required to think, and her arms cross under her chest as she bends forward a little, enough that her one arm can hold the other up and that hand can reach her chin, rubbing it in thought, squinting as she walks 3 steps, rotates in a wide stance and then paces back 3 steps. As she's talking. "And they said my idea to explode a bank over a poor neighborhood was insane... I know, no, not that plan, plan Y. Yeah, that's the one, with the zig zag detonator..."

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman looks between Buster and Valerie, a slight concerned look on his face but hey they are not the weirdest people he has met in the area. "You help people a lot more by helping them find a way to climb, rather than just picking them up one level." He offers in advice

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Snapping, then wagging an index finger in the air, Buster nods sagely. "Right you are, doc. We're thinkin' along the same lines." He makes an L7 frame with his hands and singles out a section of boarded building along the street. "Envision this - and stop me if it's a dumb idea: what if the neighborhood had a job placement service, specifically geared for folk like us. I mean, many a mutant has some type a' special skill, so why not connect those lookin' for work with exactly the right kinda work they can do." He makes a grandiose gesture at Valerie. "Take Hexie-Blue, for instance. She likes workin' with gears and whatnot, and blowin' stuff up. There's gotta be a junkyard, er, I mean a salvage yard for perfectly good spare parts, where they need someone with her kinda gumption to do a little demolition, ya know what I mean, jellybean? We start havin' mutants work for mutants, but next thing ya know, they'll be all over the city. Regular folk will be glad to have us around, because we're useful." His speech takes on a solemn note. "They'll regard as an integral part of society. First New York, then the country, then the world." He pounds a fist into a hand and affirms it all with a nod.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Robert's comment about moving people up a level gets a look of disgust, scrunching up her face, her eyes looking weird, one open more than the other, and then she hears Buster's idea about 'job placement' and it pauses her pacing altogether. Stopping, in her tracks. And she's about to say something, before she's called - HexieBlue. Confusion, contorting facial muscles, and there's visible twitching of her cheeks, her lips quirking to the side as she recoils in confusion.

Taking a literal step backwards, then another, like she's tip-toeing in reverse, she pauses and looks around. "Useful? Me? No, he doesn't know who he's talking about. Not at all, no sirry. I'm Hex. I'm a bad teaaaaaam player nope. A junkyard where I can blow things up does sound kind of nice, and world domination, it DOES have a nice ring to it, for... someone else." Aloud she thinks through some thoughts, and then raises her hand, leaning forward, to waggle it back and forth since she took so many steps backwards out of Buster's vision, but then she looks very young, shoulders brought in, hand raised to ask a question, face confused.

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman keeps an eye on both of them and at the hand raised, he does say "Something else on your mind Miss Hex?" He studies both of them for a moment, and seems to be forming his own opinions of the two.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Buster points to Valerie as she is called on to speak, and stands quietly attentive.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Waiting a moment, and Hex looks between the two and then mentions, "Uh, yes. Question." She pulls down her hand and brings up her other hand to push at her lower lip, "If you have poor people over here." And she blurringly moves about five feet to her right at a pretty fast speed. Hands extending out, "And wealthy people over here." She zips back to where she started and does the same thing, "And you have, this thing that connects, in the middle making one rich and the other poor." She moves just a few feet one direction and stands there, "And someone ... not saying who, but anyone, were to disrupt that middle ground, ruin it, blow up, or ... or break, everything in the middle so that there's no connection anymore. What would happen then? Just... as a thought, not that" She chuckles and runs a hand over to one of her long braided pigtails, fiddling with it, "There would be anything like that, it'd take WAY MORE" the loud part coming out as her hands spread suddenly as well, to mimic the explosive surprise her tone had, "Butterflies, than I have, but, just, asking."

Robert Marksman has posed:
Robert Marksman looks to her, and says "Well the majority of the poor people would probably be ok, and the majority of the rich folks would be lost unless they found new people to be the middle." He offers in honest opinion. Then his phone rings and he pulls it back out and says "Sorry I have to cut this short, seems I am needed at the clinic."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     "It's not the middle ya wanna blow up, Hexie-Blue. It's the rich. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Ya know, blow up a bank over a poor neighborhood so to speak." Buster grins, "That's exactly what I mean to do, in my own way."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
To Robert, Hex nods her head, slowly, and it looks like her eyes are getting wider, like a kid who's found a lollipop. "Thanks. Thanks, mister ... Doctor Landlord..." Though he heads off. She turns to Cheyenne and pauses, and squints a little, eyes twitching some, "Ya know that's not my name, right? I ... no one gives me nicknames, well, I guess Hex is a nickname, sort of, more of a description." And she stumbles over words, pausing, "Does he know you are a serial killer?"

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Buster rolls his eyes. "You can't say no one gives you nicknames, Hexie-Blue, because I just did. Learn to live with it. It's stickin'. And how did you know I was talkin' about you in the first place, if it's not your name, hmm?" He grins. "Now, the only thing I'm killin' around here is cockroaches. But, you, gal, are definitely a THIEF." Stepping up to the curb, he waits for an 80s model sedan to rumble by, then sets about crossing the street toward the Hotel. "Because," he says, turning to face Valerie, walking backwards, "I believe you done stole somethin' very precious to me." He places a hand over his heart and makes a thumping motion for a few seconds, before turning back around and jogging merrily toward the building's entrance.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Face, contorting again, and Hex has a facial expression somewhere between disgusting smell just hit her nose and awkward grinning. "Uh, what, no... um." Hex is hearing the words, but they are NOT making sense in her head. Clearly, her eyes seem strained. She starts to follow, and the jogging makes her jog, and she is pretty quick so it's not like it's tough to follow, though she pays NO MIND to traffic or cars, just hopping, sliding over hoods, and otherwise getting past them with acrobatics and them slamming on brakes over 'looking both ways' like a chump. "Come on, that was ... " Searching for a word, "LAME. Like, really lame, are you sure you aren't confusing me for someone else? I think you are, no that there's a lot of long haired blue freakishly skinny girls hangin' around, but... yeah. You, definitely are. Cause, wow, those... words, uh, they are not about me."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     "Nope," Buster says in an insistant tone, "I'd know you from anyone. I've been thinkin' about those gorgeous pink eyes nonstop, since I met you outside the deli." He nods in a 'true story' sort of way. Stepping up to the front desk, he quickly negotiates with the head receptionist - a sour-faced, formal looking fellow with greasy hair slicked down to his scalp - to receive an application for residency.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Blinking, and trying to now look away, and then back, and away, and back. She wiggles her nose inadvertently from how much her mouth is quirking to the side and then back, and about to say something, then she stops. "Um. No. You don't know me, and I'm a problem. A serious problem, so you should stop. Not that I've had to have this conversation before, I mean, look at me." She chuckles a bit, in that self-deprecating kind of way, just slinking her arms, "I'm ... well, me. And, people don't like me, for good reason. Really good reasons, in fact. Gorgeous... pink ... eyes... that's ... that's not, accurate."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Slumping into an over-stuffed leather chair, Buster chuckles, application packet and pen in hand. He crosses his legs, slips a magazine under the stack of papers, and props it against his thigh. "You caint fool me, gal. You're the pertiest woman I've seen in a LONG while, and about a thousand times more likeable than just about anyone else I've met in this concrete jungle." He nods once, vehemently. "Hell, I saw some other bluenette just yesterday, in fact. She streaked in outta the sky right quick, slicker than a boiled onion, and the first thing I thought was: I wish Hex was here instead'a her." He shrugs. A vaguely sad, wistful expression takes over his mein. "But, if you want me to leave you alone, consider it done." He pointedly looks away from her and sets about filling out his application.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Coming over to the same area, Hex is sort of 'following' along even though she's clearly in a state of confusion, "Uh, no. There's plenty of other pertiester women, out there. Right on the TV. Lots of them, I meet TONS every single day. Actually. With the big bumps and the bigger bottoms, and the way they curve about." She sighs and shakes her head, "I'm just... not that. And ... likable?" Her mouth, drops.

It's open and she turns her head to the right, "Did you hear that?" She pats her gun, that she's still carrying, "George, I mean, he kind of agrees, but you should excuse his lewdness. Cause, no, he's... he's a terrible, liar. I do not... do any of the things he said to get compliments. But maybe, that's the problem?" And she slumps her shoulders, and then hears the whole... bluenette spiel.

"What? Really? Like, you saw another blue haired weirdo and were like, I wish Hex were here? That's ... strange. You probably hit your head or something." And then it's a leave her alone question and she sits up a bit more, shaking her head, "No, um, I kind of like the compliments. You aren't the typical person -I- like, not experienced enough and well, you ... you are being strangely nice. Which..." She chuckles and full open mouthed laughs a bit, leaning back into the chair she's in arms spread, legs spread, like she's lazily hanging out there, all bad posture and all, "Is not on my list of types. I prefer it when people are accurate, but you don't sound like you are lying, it is probably you just don't know me yet." God she's rambling.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Attenion seemingly on his application while she speaks, Buster semi-slams his pen down and looks up at her with a blank expression once she's finished. "Plenty of pertiester women, huh?" He scoffs, stands, and strides over to a mirror. "C'mere and take a good, long look. I mean really rub those exquisite pink eyeballs on your reflection, and tell me you caint see the truth." He makes an inclusive gesture with a spread arm, indicating various other women in the foyer, plus some of the staff. "Then look around, Hexie-Blue. You're like a dag-gone super model. I mean multi-millionaire, French Riviera, celebrity magazine type a' model." He adds a little more quietly, "any of these gals in here would kill to look half as perty as you, except it wouldn't work." Another vehement nod and he returns to his chair, readying his application again. "And as for your, well, bumps," he blushes noticeably, "aint nothin' wrong with them either. So there. That's how the cow at the cabbage." As an afterthought, he adds, "And if you think I'm lyin' about that other bluenette business," he seems mildly angry to have his integrity questioned, "you can ask her yourself when you get a chance. Her name was..." he squints and thinks for a moment, "Rave. That's what it was. Met her at the ice cream shop beside Central Park, with m' good buddy Jacob Walker and a lil' gal called Gabby." He returns to his sad status quo, "But if I'm not your type, that's fair enough. Just because I like you doesn't mean you'll me." He snorts. "Aint the first time I've been rejected by a woman, and it won't be the last neither." Shaking his head, tongue thrust into the inside of his cheek, he starts scrawling on his application.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
About to answer, there's a slam of a pen, and she kind of blinks in response, but then is up. Hex is walking over, and has one of her arms length wise down her side, the other is 90 degree turned over and gripping her elbow as she's rubbing up and down her other arm, as she comes 'over to the mirror'. And she she looks at it, looking over it, and grimaces, "Yeah. I'm ... not ... a model. I have dirt in my hair, and my gloves smell like trash, and I have these weird tattoos, I got them, I like them, I did them myself, but that 'kind of shows'." She rolls her eyes, looking at the mirror, "And I put on too much eye makeup, makes me look... scary or emo. Both aren't good for pertiness."

And then she looks around, half-paying attention, "She's got a better, backside, and she's got a bigger chest. That woman's got better eye color, and makeup design, and if I weren't so scraggly, maybe?" She's saying in an undertone, of your words that are praising her more.

Walking back, a bit looking to the side, not wanting to look right at Buster as she still looks around, a pause though. The whole lying thing, taking a hit, as she brings up her legs to reach around them, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sits with her shoes on the soft chair, "Oh. Rave. I ... I believe you. It's weird. I think you have something wrong with your head. I... I I'm not rejecting ... you." Her eyes widen, she's looking around, "I've never, been in a ... position, to ... reject someone. I ... you don't think I'm a terrible person? I I know I'm not, perfect, in the head, or anything like that. Just, somethings are real and other things are really real. It's hard, to ... discern. And sometimes I see things people don't."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Buster's expression softens. He looks at her quietly for a while, then extends a hand for her to hold, his intention clearly to be comforting. "That don't bother me none. I believe in things that caint be seen, too." After a pause, he beams at her, flashing his teeth. "And of course I don't think you're a terrible person. You're a..." he pauses to find the right word, "well, you're a spitfire. You know, ya got spunk. And you've always got something interesting to say. Right up my alley, I tell you what. I like to be kept on my toes. And for the record, I think your tattoos are just about the coolest dag-gone thing I ever seen; didn't I tell you blue is my favorite color?"
     Then, after another pause, he gives her a conspiratorial look and indicates some of the other women in the room with a subtle gesture. "Now, let me give you a little insight." He points to the one Hex indicated as having a better backside and adds just loud enough for her to hear. "That one: take off her drawers and she's all cellulite. Yuck-almighty. You got her bottom beat three ways to next Tuesdee." He points to the one with the bigger chest. "That one: I gay-rawn-tee has aeriolas the size of a slice of bologna. And, well, stuff like that tends to be mushy. Like a water balloon full a' warm mayonaise." He silently mouths a 'blech' with furrowed brows. "While stuff like yours, well... I'll just says yours are better and leave it at that." Last, he singles out the makeup expert Hex mentioned. "And as for her, I'll boil it down real simple. She's about as plain as a church mouse. But pink and blue," he sighs and shudders slightly, "I mean, that combo is just... thrilling. And the black eyeliner really frames it well, with your skintone. I think you have impeccable insticts for style."
     He circles back, eyes taking on a kind demeanor, mouth set in a listless smile. "So listen good, cause I aint gonna say it again, at least not today: you're the PRETT-I-EST gal I have EVER seen. Got it?!" He settles it once and for all with a snap of his fingers. "And I like YOU, too. Not just your looks, gal. Now, enough of that badmouthin' yourself."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
The hand isn't really something she understands, so Hex just keeps her legs wrapped up letting you reach out in her direction for 'whatever reason'. And she doesn't look at the other people, even as they are being spoken about, she's grinning a bit behind her knees as that Texas accent is really hitting words in a bizarr-o way for her ears. "Tuesdee." She mutters quietly, and she keeps her eyes over her knees, looking in the direction of Buster.

"If, if, I kill someone. You'd be upset at me, and then you wouldn't like me. And I'm going to kill someone. I'm going to blow something up. I'm going to take something that wasn't mine, till I took it. It's ... it's just going to happen. And, I might not even mean to do it."

There's that, and she shakes her head a bit, before she sighs and looks up toward the ceiling, "I didn't ... look at things ... like that before." After the whole conversation about how bad other people look, "I really hate people. Most people. They talk behind my back, they lie, liars. Almost every single one of them. Most of people being nice is ... lying. And it ... it makes me want to take a chicken, put baby bombs in them, let people at them, and just wait to see the news call it spontaneous combustion... it makes me so MAD!" She tenses up, shakes a little in her wrapped up position. "B-but, you sound honest. So, at least, you think I'm ... pretty, even if I'm not ..." She quickly follows it up with, "As pretty as you think I am. But you have something... wrong with you, which is good. Wrong, is good, I get broken things. I ... I kind of, maybe, possibly, like you. You just just, can't get right. I'll murder you." All said in a quietish soft voice.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Elbow + arm of chair + cheek in palm = Buster rolling his eyes at Hex. "If you kill someone, it'll be because they were gonna hurt you. The Lord never meant for nobody to be a pushover. Hell, you might have get to 'em before I do. And if you blow somethin' up, it'll be because it weren't no good, or because it helped somebody; I might be there to do the thing with the thing," he makes a motion like pushing in the plunger on a TNT detonator. "And if you take somethin' that weren't yours 'til y'took it, well then you must'a needed it right quick. Otherwise, I might be there to give it to you, so you ain't gotta take it." He decides to be bold and attempts to lay a hold of her hand with the one he left extended; meaning to clasp it gently. "If there's somethin' wrong with me for likin' you, Hexie-Blue, then I don't wanna be right." He grins again. "I done told you once already, but it bears repeating. You can run yourself down all you want to, but I'ma pick you right back up. Ever time. You ain't foolin' me, gal. I see the goodness in you, and that's the part I like most of all."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Eyebrows rising, perking up, as Buster clearly becomes an enabler in words to a crazy woman. And Hex lifts up her head some, and she rolls her eyes, smiling, "I don't use plungers. More, yarn, hot pink, yarn. To be exact. It's like a reverse fuse. Though, I could, build some with plungers, it might be interesting, I'd need cabling" Thinking, and then she perks up more, and snaps her fingers cause the idea comes to her, "Of course. Ants."

Then there's a few more nods, and she waves her hand in your direction, "You get it. You ... really get it." Then her hand is lightly grasped and her eyes get big, and then she sort of holds her arm there, limply, and she stares, right at that hand. Holding her hand.

"People won't like you if you like me." And she just hits her gun quickly with her other hand, and sighs, "Sorrrrrrrrry." Wincing and furrowing her brow, "George has a one track mind." Taking in a soft breath she doesn't move, "I ... I guess I'm not -such- a terrible person. I do some good things. I gather up broken things, even if I broke them, but I repurpose them. That's recycling! Right? Right? I'm a recycler, I'm a planet saver. And and, there's too many people eating food, overpopulation, that's still a problem, right?"

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     "See there, now you're gettin' it!" The Texan beams at her. "You're not a terrible person at all, in fact, you're pretty awesome." Then a casual shrug. "Most people don't like me already, sug," as in sugar, says Buster. "Especially 'round these parts. Folk hear my accent and dock me room temperature IQ points right off the bat. Or they see stuff like this right here," he points to his belt buckle bling, "and they think I'm in to Elton John and Liberacci, if y'know what I mean. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) So, I'ma follow my heart, and like what I like, and let people think what they wanna think." As he talks, he absent-mindedly strokes the back of Hex's hand with his thumb, as he holds her hand in his. "But while we're on the subject, if you decide to like me back, some folk won't like you either. Because they don't like fellers with money. Or," his expression turns dark, and he looks the woman squarely in her gorgeous pink eyes, "because they don't like mutants."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
"I ... I'm not comfortable saying I'm awesome. Yet. I'm not, but I'm not ... so ... terrible." And then Hex sort of furrows her brow, takenaback about the accent comment, "Dumb people would dock you for just ... how you say things. That's stupid. WHO IS DOING THAT?!" Her anger boils up, as she start looking around, free hand sliding toward 'George' looking for someone to shoot. "I will ... I dunno, explode their heads and make THEM dumb."

Seething, her eyes are wide, she's breathing straight through her nostrils, hunting for someone, anyone who's making fun of the accent, but she can only turn so far with her hand still being held. There's no one nearby clearly doing so, but she stares at a person looking at her, "Are you? You, maybe?" And the person gets up and starts to leave quickly as she huffs, "No, probably not. Get me a list, I will take care of them."

A shrug, and Hex mentions, "You're a mutant? Whatever. You have money, that's fine. I don't care. I've never needed money, I don't think I'll ever need money. I even power my lab off pure alternative energy. Like I do my guns, and kind of me. It's all, free energy, sort of. Costs me some time to make the paint, and then I get to have some fun painting some art on walls. All of it works out though. IF someone doesn't like you cause you're a mutant and says anything, I'll crack their skull into the pavement." She smiles, "And, yeah. I uh, like you, back. I think. I dunno. I feel kind of good, like energized a little. It's a little strange, maybe I drank something?" Like, at all?

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     "No need for blowin' anybody away, now. I haven't been here long enough to make any enemies, but as soon as I do, I'll be sure to sic you on 'em." Buster withdraws the hand holding hers, seeking to draw his fingertips ever so gently in a teasing manner along the insides of her fingers as he goes. Then he places his hands about shoulder width apart. Immediately, with no obvious effort of any kind on the Texan's part, a vanishingly small grain of sparkling light grows between his hands. Little by little, the grain grows into a nugget of some kind of clear, white gem; it becomes a pea, then a grape, then a ping pong ball. Slowly turning, suspended in midair, the exterior of the gem takes on a subtle, repeating faceted pattern that makes it sparkle like a disco ball reflecting shades of gold, red and purple from various sources of light around the foyer. Meanwhile, a barely noticeable current of air flows from every direction, centered on the spot where the gem coalesces. "You like to be eco, huh? I can sequester carbon right outa the air. And other things too, of course." Once the gem is about the size of an apricot he plucks it out of the air and tosses it toward Hex's lap. "Another gift, for our second date." He grins.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
"No? But I'm I'm pretty awesome at blowing things and people, away." Hex smiles and tilts her head to the side, making a quick snicker chuckle, and then the hand kind of goes 'away' and she looks back at her hand. Just still, holding it 'out there' and then when it looks like Buster's hand isn't coming back she brings it slowly back to her knees where she's holding her legs pretty close to her face. Like a kid afraid of the dark under a blanket with a flashlight, but her eyes are open and watching while her mouth is smiling a little.

"Is this your power?" She questions a bit, and huhs, as things coalesce and then there's a gem in her lap. Putting down her legs so she can catch it with her hands and thighs, like a cat grabbing a bug out of the air and squashing it on the ground, she too doesn't quite know what to do with it. Picking it up she huhs, "Looks ... big?" To Buster with a worried look, she offers, "I mean, it is big ... yeah? Is it? I mean, I'm not a gem expert." She tosses it from one hand to the other, catching it easily, tossing it back and forth, "Wait, is this a date?" Back and forth with her eyes, "I've only been on, three dates. Ever, now, ever ever. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I have interrupted a fair amount of dates, but usually there's some words, and blathering on, and maybe people around, and then explosions." A shrug, as she recounts some history, "Does this mean I have to get you something? I ... I could get you a three pronged spatula, it's rather sharp though, stabbed me right in the leg. And I use it currently as a pretty integral component of a trebuchet in my lab."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Buster grins and, now that he's done his little magic trick, offers his hand for Hex to hold again, if she wants. "That ain't a big one, sug, that's a little piddly thing I can make in a minute. Give me a few days, and a big source of the right stuff, and I could fill this whole room with Q-carbon like that right there." Another smile and he, with his opposite hand, makes a warding-off gesture, "Please don't give me nothin'. I don't need a dag-gone thing, and have a hard enough time keepin' track of what I got as it is. But," he waggles his brows conspiratorially, "I would like to see your power." He makes a fizzing motion with the fingers of his off-hand, indicating electrical sparks. "As long as it ain't got nothin' to do with killin' somebody - and yes, this IS a date, and I'ma ask you out on another, soon as I get a chance."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
"Oh." And Hex holds up the gem and takes a look at it, and then, she hrms a little, squinting one eye till it's closed so she can look at it through the light. Like she did with the lens the other day, which is now doing god knows what to god knows who, well, likely cows. And setting it to the side she takes in a deep breath, "Nothing? Oh, alright. Well, I have some really cool things back at my lab - I could, uh, round up?" She tries on a Texan phrase, or what she may think is a Texan phrase, before she continues, "If you, change your mind. And want me to get you something. I'm better at acts of service though. You know, so if you want me to do something, I'm your gal. Blow something up, kill someone, beat someone up, destroy something, you know, call me."

Then her eyes get big and she offers, "Oh, fuck, I haven't given you my number and we're on our second date. Holy shit, I'm terrible at this, fuck fuck fuck." She grrs, actually grrrs at herself as she pulls up her phone, a monstrosity of steam punk design and mad max mashing up together in a far too large screen hooked to her waist by one of those looped chains. She pulls it up, "Call Buster." She says to her phone, and then waits.

A phone nearby starts ringing and a woman picks up to see who it is, Hex says, "No." And scrunches up her brow, then she calls again, "Call Buster." She says, and the phone dials, picking out another person in the lobby area, and she hits her phone against the soft chair, beating it in about 3 inches into the wood and cushion. Then she looks over to Buster, "Something's wrong with my phone. It isn't reaching you. It ALWAYS gets to a person I'm calling. Always. Unless they don't exist, or are dead, but not like living dead, just dead dead." She sighs, and grimaces, "Sorry, it's probably broken. I'll have to fix it later, but... my powers? I, I'm, I mean I could show you some things, but mostly I just build things. And improvise some ... runes and stuff like that. It's rather simple, things, they just make sense." Though she reaches out, slowly, using her fingers in the air like they are grabbing at the air, crawling forward till she has his hand, "Also I'm strong, and stuff. But I'm cursed."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     "When there's some killin' to be done, I promise, hand to God, you and your boomstick with be the first folk I call." Nodding, he arches a brow, confused, when Hex says 'call Buster'. He tries to interject with "oh, but I..." before he's cut off. When she tries again, so does he, with "you see, technology and me, well..." until finally he guffaws. "Naw, sug, your dealie-bopper works just fine, the trouble is I aint gotta phone. Or, well, maybe I do now, afterall." He points to the receptionist desk, "I think those calls were for me," he grins.
     "See, I stopped carrying a cell when I picked up clients in the jewelry business - they wanted me to hop-to at their beck and call, but that's not my style. I didn't want them to be able to reach me at the drop of a hat. And then, well," he says barely audibly, "I do have some enemies aroundabout some circles in the world." He adds at a normal volume, "So I quit the laptop and everthang else too, to ditch all the trackin' stuff. I guess you'll just have to march your cute little buns down here in person, if you want somethin' from me."
     With an affectionate, gentle squeeze, Buster spider-crawls his hand more snugly into hers. "I like strong and tough, er, I mean stuff. And I don't mind a cursed woman neither; adds a little excitement to sittin' around watchin' the paint dry." He strokes his beard in thought. "I wonder... Would you ever wanna build something for a party?"

Valerie Killmore has posed:
There is a grin to the whole killin' to be done, she'll be called and Hex is nodding her head, "Yeah? That's kind of nice. To know that you'd let me know, and have me do that for you. I appreciate it. I'm pretty good at it too." She offers, in way of making sure to seal that deal. And then the calling attempts are made, but when it is explained there's no phone on him, Hex ohhhhhhhhhs and then pulls her phone from the crevice she made, the phone no worse for wear, "Yeah. See, my phone, it finds people, and calls them. If it can't find a phone for them, it finds one nearby, and calls that one instead. So, that kind of makes sense."

She looks around to the other phones that rang and hmmms, "You have enemies?! Wow, we have so much in common!" She exclaims, "I have enemies too. All around the world. Some of them just don't know it yet." And then she chuckles a bit, grinning, eyes a bit too energetically looking at Buster, "I can teleport here, pretty easily, or just run it. I mean, I -am- kind of fast. Not like Super fast, but fast, you know?"

And she offers with more enthusiasm, leaning forward, grinning, "I'm suuuuuper cursed. Every friend I've ever had, save one" She pauses, still grinning, with some emphasis, "Dead. Every one. I'm like the most cursed, ever that you'll ever find." A pause, and she recoils some, "A, party?" She questions, "Like, where you don't want everyone to become itty bitty bits or frozen in place? Or elctrocuted... I'm guessing? Mayyyyyyyybe. That'd be a tough one though."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Eyes wide, he nods along wih the explanation of her device. "Hot damn, gal, that's one heck of a gizmo. You've got a real head on your shoulders, you know?" Continuing to stroke the point of his beard, Buster hmmms, "Not much for parties. I get it. I'll only call you for the grizzly work, and leave the froo-froo to someone like..." he ponders, "well, I'll have to find somebody. Thing is, I want to throw a big bash here in Mutant Town when the new employment office opens." He grins. "It won't be for a good minute, anyway, but you don't have to come if you don't wanna." The Texan stands, still holding the techno-wizard's hand, and tries to draw her into a standing position in front of him. "Cursed you may be, Sexy-Bl... er, Hexie-Blue, but you're blessed too. I won't let you forget it."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
The standing position is a bit awkward, but she does stand up with the drawing in. Sort of taking whatever lead Buster sends her way and she looks at him. "I like, gizmos and gadgets. A lot of people wouldn't call them very solid or good, but I like them. I'm not that flying man, SteelSuit Boy, or whatever his name is that helped to save the city. But I don't think his gadgets like him very much. Mine do."

And then she grimaces again, "I didn't mean, to say, I just, if I make something for your party, then all the people are going to die. I said, I'm cursed, right? And, things don't always work, when you are ... broken. I could ... maybe, show up, your people or whoever, would probably hate you for it. I don't hold back, I just say what I say, and what's on my mind, and it gets a lot of people frazzled! Look at that crazy girl, letting her mouth ramble on about crazy things!" She frustratingly says and huffs out, "I won't dislke you if you don't invite me, but if it's a place I should go cause, we're ... dating? I guess, then I could. I don't own clothes. I mean, just these. I ... like these."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     While Hex is talking, Buster is gradually inching toward her with a goofy grin on his face. When he's close enough, he tries to wrap her in a hug like feathered wings folding around her shoulders, gentle and warm, and not the least bit insistent. "Don't you get it, gal? I don't want you to be anything you're not, and I don't want to control you. If you were anyone else, I wouldn't like you. So just be yourself."

Valerie Killmore has posed:
A hug? A hug. Oh god, a hug. Hex starts to panic, and she breathes in and out kind of quickly, and is certainly wrapped up, and hugged, and wide eyed. She's looking around, and looking around, she then calms, after a moment, and buries her face into whatever part of Buster is closest, likely a shoulder or part of an arm, and scoots up. Close, really close, bringing her arms up and to her sides, and she starts crying, bawling in fact, so much, just down her face, "You're going to die, so badly. I know it. You are. Exploded, or split apart, just all over the place."

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Ever so gently, Buster reaches in an effort to sweep Hex's bang-tail behind an ear and cranes his neck down so that he can see into her marvelous pink eyes. "Everone's gotta die sooner or later," he grins. "But I ain't gone nowhere yet. Don't think you can get rid of me that easily, I'm tougher than an old snappin' turtle." Grinning, he makes to wrap his arms around her, hands affectionately stroking her shoulders, soothing, comforting. Eyes closed, he takes in a deep breath, his chest swelling, and as he slowly releases it, he wills countless imaginary seeds of love, some romantic, others strictly noble, through his hands and into her body, a form of silent prayer blended with intention.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Sniffling, Hex sucks in a terrible amount of mucus as she's just draining water as rivulets down her cheeks. She looks up, "It'll be... big, I'm sure, you have some good mass to you." And she ohs, smiling, "I have always wanted to blow up a turtle." The soothing doesn't so much work, but she is starting to grin, "Shells everywhere. Right? That'd be something to see. Maybe I need a turtle throwing fireworks generator." And her eyes squint, "Can you imagine? Spin spin spin spin boom, shrapnel that's shell. I wonder if there are really really hard shelled turtles out there. They'd be slow moving non-targeted bombs. No one suspects a turtle..." Giggling, she grabs Buster, squeezes him and twirls around with him in her skinny arms, then places him back down, "Thank you so much for the idea!"

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Laughing as he's spun around, Buster wobbles a bit before regaining his balance. "You didn't hear it from me, gal, but I hear tale there's giant turtles in the sewers; big as I am. That can talk. Heard it from a pizza delivery guy at a bar in Brooklyn." He nods seriously. "I didn't believe it at first, but now that I've been here for a while... well, I wouldn't put anything past this city." Then the Texan hops up slightly and spreads his legs just enough so that his face is lined up with her, landing with a boot-heeled clop. He reaches to craddle her face in his hands and leans in, hoping to plant his lips on hers with a kiss as light as powdered sugar.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
No loss of balance comes from Hex, she spins around on her own more than one might think possible, from exaggerated walking to emotional outbursts, to extra speed she's got it all. Plus it is probably fun to have her long hair pigtails whip around behind her, and her eyes get big, "People Turtles? Really?! Really Really!? I bet I could... mmmmphgghr." She talks for the first bit after her cheeks are cradled, as if nothing unusual is happening. Then. Lips meet hers and her eyes get wide, and she stands there, just, lips pressed against her own.

Awkward. She doesn't press back, she doesn't do anything, she just 'freezes' in place until its over. "Oh, hah, hah, yeah, haha. Oh. Hehe." She is burst giggling while looking around, then giggling, then looking around, then giggling, "I didn't know you were going to do that. Is that ... um, something..." Finger pointing at you then her then you, "That, happens on dates? I uh, yep. I think it is, oh, uh. I'm not good at that. Or, come to think of it, any of the..." She moves her hands back and forth, trying to express 'body stuff' and slumps her shoulders, and then perks up, "But, I... yep, I don't... I've never, you know, it's just. I ... wow. Okay. I should read up on this, whole... thing. Right? Right. I don't want to be terrible at this, maybe passable? Is that a goal." She is DEFINITELY rambling now.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     "Chill out, Hexie-Blue. I'm on this train with you. I'll teach you everything I know." He winks, "But for now, I really oughta skidaddle, I need to finish this here application right quick so they can approve me by tonight, and then I can have my stuff delivered over from the other hotel." He grits his teeth and places a palm on his forehead, "Dang it, my check out at the other hotel was at 11AM, but I got wrapped up walking around Bushwick, and then," he looks at Hex and sighs, a dopey grin emerging on his face, "an then I saw you again. Couldn't have been a better day." He darts toward the young woman like a blue heron, hoping to steal one more kiss if he can. "Thanks for hangin' out with me. I can't wait to see you again." Buster beams at her with a genuine duchenne smile.

Valerie Killmore has posed:
Buster is easily able to catch hold of Hex again, as she's stammering and stumbling, and trying to figure out who she can torture to learn more about relationship stuff. So, another, awkward kiss, with her just being there, talking through it a little, "I likedgh hungindg ousht tooh." She says past the kiss before she smiles back, though her eyes say 'worried' and her mouth says 'cutely awkward'. "Alright. Bye. I, uh, do I, is it, maybe, I what, look um, forward to seeing you again?" She upturns that with a question, "I, liked, hanging out, but I, probably should get back to my lab, cow lasers don't build themselves!" She makes a little joke, excuse, to turn and leave. Waving back, walking with stiff legs like she's in a weird military group, and heads out quickly.

Cheyenne Brawley has posed:
     Buster runs behind Hex to catch her, hoping to snatch one last hug from behind, around herwaste, if he can. "Don't be a stranger 'round here, now."